#but i swear to god i genuinely hit a couple goods this time around

[rubyrhythmposts-archive]

What in the world...

Okay so for context: I was playing Pretty U to clear daily missions. And I had like 3 Goods and 1 Miss. And I figured "yeah, par for the course" and obviously didn't take a screenshot of those results (because why would I unless it's a full combo).

BUT. Apparently that still counted as Perfect Hits??? I guess it's a bug considering that that definitely shouldn't happen. But I recently had this happen with Fear too. Even though I tried fc-ing Fear for ages and just 1 Good would screw me over. And a long time ago that happened with Hot too.

I mean I guess I can't complain considering I did kind of get those shiny gold badges handed to me for free. But it just doesn't sit right with me that I didn't genuinely get a full combo on those songs.

[retrosabers]

I am so glad you've found your spark again to write!

Could I please request a smutty Logan fic with "I can't control myself around you" and "Fuck, make that noise again"

Thank you!!

thank you anon :( that genuinely means a lot to me, i hope you know that! sorry this took a little while, my brain was trying to cook up the most delicious scenario possible and this is what it came up with. thank you so much for your patience & your request! i hope you enjoy 😋

𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐈 𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐊 𝐎𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔.

logan howlett x fem!reader

summary: logan shows you just how much he likes seeing you in his clothes.

contains: smut content below the cut. MINORS DNI. oral (fem receiving), fingering, a wee bit of overstimulation if you squint, swearing, logan being hot as fuck per usual, somewhat rushed ending

word count: 2k

it’s nearly impossible for a man like logan to die.

the adamantium fused to his skeleton coupled with insane regenerative capabilities meant there were only a select few scenarios that could end his life. those usually involved a lot of science; insanely specific logistics requiring lengthy explanation.

but this? the simple sight before him? just might be what takes him out.

you’re standing in the kitchen making coffee clad in nothing but one of his flannels, humming along to some random tune that was playing on the radio. it shocks him, stopping the man dead in his tracks on his way out of the bedroom. despite having spent the night with you a few times before, your relationship was still fairly new, and clothes sharing was one of the few intimacies you had yet to indulge in.

until today.

a mixture of emotions begin to stir in his chest. logan’s heart warms over the domesticity of it, realizing he didn’t want to wake up any other morning if it wasn’t like this. if it wasn’t with you. there’s a hint of possession, knowing his scent was lingering on your skin. he hopes that maybe you’ll wear his clothes out of the house one day, a physical reminder to everyone around you that you were his, and only his. the lust hits him the strongest as he really takes a second to look you over.

the hem of the shirt sits at the top of your thighs. logan knows if you bend over in any capacity, he’ll catch a glimpse of the skimpy little panties he ripped off your body last night. his favorite pair to be exact. one of the sleeves hangs slightly off your shoulder, granting him a peak at some of the marks left just a few hours ago. the man smirks to himself, recalling how you mewled beneath him while he bit and sucked at the delicate skin of your neck. then, when you finally turn around and catch him staring, you give him a bird’s eye view of your cleavage where the shirt was barely buttoned.

you look like something out of a dream. and he almost can’t believe you’re real.

“it’s rude to stare you know,” you tease him, leaning your hip against the counter. it makes the shirt ride up even further and logan nearly salivates.

god, do you even know what you’re doing to him?

logan moves from his position against the wall, pushing off it and slowly stalking towards you. his voice is rough and gravelly, still heavy with sleep.

“can’t help it bub. not when you look this good.”

you scoff. his large hands come to squeeze at your hips while yours rest across his bare chest, softly scratching at the layer of hair that sits atop it. “could say the same thing about you handsome.”

logan hums in content as he presses his lips against yours. it's slow and saccharine, a nonverbal good morning that makes you melt into him. his hands wander across your figure, caressing every curve he’s gotten to know like the back of his hand. when his palms slip under the hem of the shirt and begin to paw at your ass, you sigh into his mouth.

“i like you in my clothes,” he mumbles against your skin as his mouth travels to your neck, pressing languid, sensual kisses against the blooming marks.

“yeah?” you breathe out in reply, hands finding purchase in his messy hair.

“yeah,” he replies right next to your ear, voice dripping in desire. “let me show you just how much.”

you hum, amused by his arousal. “last night wasn’t enough for you, bub?”

it’s logan’s turn to laugh. a deep, almost condescending sound that vibrates through your entire body.

you whimper at the loss of contact when he pulls away, only to let out a squeal seconds later when he hoists you onto the countertop in one swift motion. you flush, eyes widening at the display of his strength. the way he could manhandle you with ease was something you had yet to get used to.

“darlin’ you should know by now i can’t control myself around you,” he coos. “especially when you’re parading around lookin’ like this.”

you preen at his words, letting out the softest little sound and he gleams with pride. his eyes rake over you once more, setting your skin ablaze with all the hunger that was swimming in those hazel irises. one hand rests snugly around your hip, while the other inches towards the apex of your thighs.

logan’s thumb rubs soft circles into your skin, his pointer finger teasing the waistband of your underwear. your breath hitches at the touch, a barely there gesture that makes warmth pool in your belly. how he manages to get you so worked up over so little, you have yet to discover. he retracts his digit, letting the elastic snap against your skin. you flinch in his hold and he chuckles.

“relax,” he says, pressing a gentle kiss to the corner of your mouth. “i gotcha.”

there’s no better way to start your day than by watching logan sink to his knees in front of you. the early morning light peeks in through the curtains, casting a golden halo around his head while he starts his path up your bare legs towards where you needed him most. he looks heaven sent, and you silently thank whatever gods existed for the beautiful man kneeling between your thighs.

his kisses against your skin grow sloppier the closer he gets to your core. logan inhales deeply, catching wind of your arousal. the scent was maddening, a perfume he could never grow tired of. knowing that he was behind it, that you were just as hungry for him as he was for you, rials him up even more.

his voice is low and sensual, bordering on smug when he states, “clearly last night wasn’t enough for you either.”

logan yanks the hem of his shirt up, exposing your lower half. he presses a wet kiss against your clothed mound, inhaling your sweet aroma. you sigh, your hips moving forward on their own accord, desperate to feel more of him.

“logan,” you breathe out. “don’t tease.”

“don’t tease?” he parrots your question. “you’re one to talk.”

“s’just a shirt.” you reason meekly, still not fully awake yet, and somehow already drunk on logan.

“not to me darlin’” his breath is hot and heavy against your cunt as he finally grants your wish, pulling your panties to the side and licking a long stripe up your center. “not to me.”

you’re almost embarrassed over the moan that comes out of your mouth, but god do you feel good. logan doesn’t waste any time, yanking your underwear down your legs before he starts to devour you like a man starved. his tongue darts back and forth between your entrance and your swollen clit, a delicious rotation that has you feeling boneless in record time. you throw your head back, hand reaching out to grip onto his brown locks.

its moments like these where you wonder how you were ever with anyone else before him. nothing and no one could compare to the pleasure that logan brought. his desire for you was never fully satiated, and when you look down to catch logan staring back at you with lidded eyes, you don’t think yours will ever be either.

“feel good?” he asks rhetorically, knowing the way your body responds is answer enough. all you can muster out of your mouth is a high pitched whine as he slips two fingers into your entrance without warning.

logan’s cock twitches in his boxers at the sound. “fuck, make that noise again for me baby.”

with the combination of his fingers pumping in and out of you, and his lips sucking harshly on your clit, you unintentionally obey his command. it’s music to logan’s ears, encouraging him to pick up the pace.

you can feel the muscles in your abdomen growing taught. a sign that your orgasm was approaching. logan, ever the observer, yanks you closer, throwing your legs over his shoulders and dangling your ass off the edge of the kitchen counter.

with the new and better angle, your back arches, causing the shirt to fall even further off your shoulder and exposing more of your flushed skin. with your eyes fluttering and your mouth dropped open in the most perfect pout, logan thinks you’ve never looked more beautiful.

not as beautiful as when you’re cumming however. that part he was determined to have happen sooner than later.

“fuck,” you preen, beginning to grind against his face as your hips fall into a steady rhythm. “don’t stop.”

“wasn’t planning on it.” he mumbles against your folds, his tongue now accompanying the thick digits.

his cockiness only expedites your release. with one hand gripping the counter and the other tugging at your boyfriend’s hair, you teeter close to the edge. at the pull of his locks, logan groans into your pussy, his nose nudging at your clit. the shockwaves that spread through your body feel like wildfire, and it’s the most wonderful way to burn.

“gonna cum for me honey?” logan questions, curling his fingers in just the right way, knowing that’s the spot to hit to guarantee your climax. you nod, too focused on the growing pressure in your core to speak actual words. the only thing you’re capable of right now is a string of curses with logan’s name sprinkled in between. it falls from your lips like a prayer as your orgasm creeps up the back of your neck.

when it hits, it washes over you like a tidal wave, drowning you in the most electrifying kind of bliss. with one final, loud moan, your hips jolt foward, thighs tightening around logan’s head all the while his ministrations continue. he always rode out your high until you were gently shoving him off from the overstimulation.

“lo,” you breathe out, slowly coming back down to reality. he hums between your legs in acknowledgement, ceasing his actions and offering one final kiss to your sensitive clit before rising to his feet.

his already sleep mused hair was ruffled even further from your grabby hands. there’s a dreamy sheen in his eyes, from the early morning or your release soaking the lower half of his face, you’re not sure. whatever it was, he was beaming, smiling at you with so much affection and adoration you felt like you could explode. a stark contrast to the filth that took place mere moments ago.

“if i had known that wearing your shirt was going to result in that, i would’ve stolen it a long time ago,” you joke, pulling up the sleeve to cover yourself.

logan snickers, slotting himself between your spread legs and finding your lips once more.

“looks way better on you anyways” he murmurs between kisses, ravaging your mouth while caressing your jaw. tasting yourself on his tongue was always a dizzying thing, even more so at the thought of what was in store as you felt his very prominent bulge rubbing against your thigh.

“is that so?” you challenge, tracing your fingers along the trail of hair that travels below his waistline. you don’t miss the way his muscles flex under your touch, the way he grows even harder at the jest.

logan pulls back, the picture of sex and smugness as the corner of his mouth turns up in a smirk. he makes a show of sucking your juices off his fingers, groaning dramatically as they enter between his spit soaked lips. when he nods in the direction of the bedroom, you’re already getting wet again, knowing exactly what the rest of your morning is going to entail.

“go in there, and lay down with your pretty little ass up for me will you?”

you quirk a brow, loving to push his buttons. little acts of defiance always made the end result worth it after all.

logan smacks his palm against your bare ass, taking pleasure in the little yelp you let out and the dazed look in your eyes.

“m’not done with you just yet.”

thanks for reading! <3

[hanglimi]

opposite - yu jimin

jimin is sick and tired of the stupid, good for nothing student who keeps throwing parties in the dorm room above hers. but woah, she's the complete opposite of what jimin imagined, and really hot too.

TAGS - jimin x f! reader, fluff, college au

WORDCOUNT - 2100~

WARNINGS - substance use, swearing, suggestiveness,

A/N - this is really dialogue heavy, and i can't tell if that's a bad or good thing.

“oh my god, does this ever fucking stop?” ningning whined as she sat atop jimin’s bed, her feet crossed over each other, laptop thrown onto one of the multiple pillows.

jimin threw her friend a questioning look over her shoulder. the girl was acting crazy, and she had no time to engage if she wanted to finish the paper her professor had given her weeks before. the longer she left ning alone, the better chance of there being no continuation to the conversation.

“seriously, jimin! this is driving me insane.”

“what the hell do you mean, ning,” she groaned, laying her head down on her table.

“the dorm above you! i can genuinely feel the ceiling shaking with how loud the music is, and it’s been like this everyday this week!” ningning was practically hyperventilating at this point, and sure, while jimin thought she was being a tad bit dramatic, she also had a point.

but unfortunately, jimin had gotten so used to the girl above her, and her endless parties, that she barely noticed it anymore.

“here.” she reached down into her backpack by the base of her desk, grasping around in the pockets for what she was looking for. she finally felt it’s wire as she pulled it out of the bag and threw it over to her friend, glancing back down at her respective laptop.

“earbuds? really?”

jimin ignored her question, getting back to work. If she wanted to pass this class before the end of the semester, she had no time to idly chat with her friend, no matter how much she loved her.

“jimin!” ningning screamed again a couple seconds later, her head in her hands. “how the fuck do you live with this?” she curled into herself on the bed, as if that would help with the walls literally bouncing with each bass hit from upstairs.

“remind me to never come to your dorm again. from now on, we're studying in the library,”

jimin simply giggled at the comment, tuning out the bass boosted audio and her best friend’s whining.

“damn, jimin!” aeri said, snatching the girl’s phone from her, pausing her music so she could hear what was happening, “how loud do you need your music to be to actually hear it?”

jimin gave her a sneer, and reached back for her phone, but it was just so far across the table, and minjeong was faster than her, grabbing it, and pocketing it. aeri chuckled at her struggles before slapping a hand over her mouth, slowly turning her head towards the front of the library, hoping she wouldn’t get a third warning from the librarian just today.

“her eardrums are probably nonexistent because of the bitch above her,” ning noted as she scrolled on her phone, obviously distracted from what they actually came here for.

“you’re still on about that?” jimin drawled, dropping her head and leaning down in her seat, giving up on trying to retrieve her device. “and was i the only one still on task? it’s literally only been thirty minutes, guys.”

“on about what?” minjeong asked, leaning into the gossip, “who lives above jimin?”

“dude, if i knew what her name was i'd tell you.” ningning sat up, getting ready to entertain her. “all i know is that she throws a party like every other day, and plays overly obnoxious bass boosted music. and the RA of their floor just doesn't care.”

“jimin’s on the fourth floor, right?”

jimin nodded at aeri’s question. she just wanted to finish the discussion, and get back to studying, but her friends obviously felt otherwise.

“oh my god, jimin, i fucking know who that is! it’s that y/n chick,” aeri said, laughing, but her eyes widened as she heard the loud shush of the librarian.

“as i was saying, everyone on the fifth floor despises y/n, like genuinely hates,” she said.

jimin groaned as the three of them continued to talk about every single rumour y/n was involved in, and she pressed at her eyes with the palms of her hands until she started seeing dots.

“i’m literally the one who lives below her, and i don’t care this much,” jimin complained, adjusting her body so she was sat in the chair properly. “unlike you guys, i actually have things to do, so give me back my phone, minjeong”

they all groaned at her words, minjeong muttering as she handed the device to the girl’s outreached hand.

“you’re such a buzzkill, jimin,” aeri let out a sigh, shaking her head.

“yeah, fucking buzz killer,” ning followed up.

“buzz kill~.” minjeong sang, giggling a bit with the other two girls at the end.

“shut up!”

the librarian near the main entrance lowered her glasses down her nose at the outburst, glaring at their table. “you four girls over there! out!”

jimin made sure to flip her friends off as she snatched her things away from the table, walking back to her dreaded dorm, with a huge headache caused from the three.

it was never this bad.

like sure, jimin would often notice how loud y/n’s music was, but she never really got this mad about it. it was only a passing thought usually, but today, she couldn’t ignore it. and somehow, her body betrayed her, leading jimin out of her dorm, into the elevator, and facing the perpetrators door.

she knocked once, letting precious seconds pass as she stood in front of the dorm room, tapping her foot against the floor, slipping into the beat of the drums that was in the song playing from inside the room. no one answered, even though she could tell from the yelling that there were at least ten people in there. she let out a deep exhale through her nose, and raised her fist to knock, hitting the door again.

jimin waited there a little bit longer, still tapping her foot to the song as her mind wandered to how she would deal with the infamous y/n. she waited for what she thought was eternity before she got impatient, and raised her fist to knock again, but before she could make contact, the door swung open.

“who are you?” the girl who opened the door asked, while jimin strained to hear her over her overbearing chewing of gum. the stench of liquor infiltrated her nose from the open door, and there was a light fog covering the room, hazing up her vision of any furniture in the dorm. the loud music was piercing her brain now, closer than ever, and it was making her headache stronger.

“is y/n here?” she asked in response, but the girl only stared blankly at her, continuing to chew. jimin’s jaw clenched at the lack of reaction, but assumed y/n's friend couldn’t hear her over the music.

“is y/n here!” she repeated much louder, leaning closer to the girl’s ear, but the girl shoved her backwards immediately, and sneered at her.

“i’m not deaf yet, bitch. i was just trying to figure out if you were one of her exes,” the girl scolded, leaning an arm on the doorframe and turning her body to face the inside of the dorm.

“y/n! did you invite one of your flings to our party again?” the girl screamed into the fog while jimin scowled at the back of her head. apparently, y/n responded, because she turned back around to face her after a couple of seconds. “y/n will be here in a few,” and she shut the door.

jimin already hated the girl, and she didn’t even know her name.

the door reopened after a few moments to who jimin assumed was y/n, and her heart leapt out of her chest at the sight. the girl was the complete opposite of how jimin thought she would appear, and she couldn’t believe she fell for what aeri had said before. the clothes she wore leaned to the pink, feminine side–her tank top a cute combination of red, pink and yellow–and she wore a pearl necklace to accompany the soft vibe. the look was coupled with a pink cardigan over top, which was falling down to reveal one of her shoulders.

jimin was definitely gawking at her too long, because the girl cleared her throat in annoyance.

“what do you need?” the girl’s voice was also the complete opposite of her look, siding more with what jimin had thought y/n would be like originally. the deep, rough tones of it scratched her brain in a way she never imagined before, and she almost melted right there on the spot.

“oh yeah! i’m so sorry about that. my name is jimin, and i live on the floor below you, right under your room, which is actually pretty cool, huh.” jimin stuttered through her introduction, her face heating up at the intense staring contest y/n had her locked in.

she quickly averted her eyes, wanting to look anywhere else but the student's face, “anyways, it usually hasn’t been a problem but-”

the girl cut her off, rolling her eyes at the long winded explanation. “i get it, you want us to lower the volume of the music, right?” she drawled, and her tone grated against the headache jimin had, further enhancing it.

jimin nodded her head rapidly.

“well we can’t.” y/n started, lifting her hand up to take a look at her nails which were–once again a contrast to her voice–painted a mix of pink and yellow. “not that we can’t, just that we won’t.”

jimin cocked her head in confusion, “you… won’t?”

y/n stood there, still observing her fingers, “you heard me the first time, cutie,”

even though she was slightly infuriated, she felt her heart jump at the pet name, and warmth rushed up to her cheeks once again, but she quickly shook away the feeling, steeling her face in anger.

“what do you mean by ‘you won’t’” jimin said, crossing her arms over her chest.

“exactly what it means, babe. we’re having fun, and if it’s really bothering you that much, you can leave the complex for a couple hours.” y/n finally looked away from her nails to stare up at jimin, giving her a smile, as if she was trying to soften the words.

“uh, no the fuck not.”

the girl’s eyes flashed with something jimin couldn't recognise, and y/n stood up straighter, a smirk playing on her lips at the words.

“so you stand your ground, huh?” y/n noted aloud, eyeing jimin from head to toe. “how about you come in here, and we can party together?”

“fuck you.” jimin said.

“that’s what i’m asking for,” the girl replied in a dull tone, rolling her eyes.

the girl was annoying her, and the constant flirty jokes weren’t helping jimin’s case either. she couldn’t tell if she wanted to feel flustered, angry, or perhaps a mix of both.

“i’m gonna get the RA on you. you’ll be kicked out of the dorms, or probably even the school considering the amount of weed i smell off of you right now.”

“you wanna talk to the RA about me?” y/n laughed loudly at the statement, covering her mouth with her hand, as she turned around to face the fog.

“hey, chaewon! come here,” y/n screamed over the music that was still playing, and she stood aside after a bit, letting chaewon pop her head through the door.

“meet the fifth floor’s RA!” the annoying girl cackled, doubling over at the look on jimin’s face.

the girl was wasted–jimin could tell by the dazed look in her eyes, and how she had to lean against y/n to stabilise herself.

“don’t tell anyone i’m here.” chaewon slurred, and hiccupped, slowly raising her pointer finger to press it against jimin’s lips, but she missed, and ended up poking her in the eye. “or we’ll all end up in trouble.”

“shit!” jimin exclaimed, pressing a hand to her eye trying to soothe the pain.

y/n’s mouth curved into a smile, and jimin couldn’t tell if it was from her pain or chaewon’s actions. she lightly pushed chaewon back into the room while telling her to ease up on the drinks, and came back to face jimin straight on.

“see what I mean?” y/n said, shaking her head at jimin’s poor attempts, further belittling her.

jimin scrunched her forehead up in thought. she wasn’t going to accept defeat, and let this go–that wasn’t who she was–and she didn’t want to see y/n’s stupid hot smirk again anyways.

“if you lower the volume of your music, and keep it there” she gulped, “i’ll do anything that you want me to.”

“really?” y/n eyes widened, “if so-”

“nothing sexual, of course.” jimin cut her off before she had the chance.

y/n giggled in response, “well then.”

[redclercs]

DELICATE✰ CHARLES LECLERC.

iii. one for the money, two for the show.

— the one where you were never ready, so you watched him go.

warnings: war flashbacks to the miami gp, more insight into y/n (look i have to give a lot of context for my own sanity), not really proofread sorry, 2.4k words.

masterlist ✢ next

FROM “WHAT’S NEXT FOR AIDAN KIM?” POSTED IN THE US WEEKLY YOUTUBE CHANNEL MAY 2023

You are looking at the top comments.

aidanbabes nooo my baby😭 he looks so sad!

flowerbedkim I swear to god y/n better count her fucking days

halleyc don’t come at me but this sounds like he proposed

ynbby why is he talking about this though? y/n has been super private and he’s telling US WEEKLY THIS?

ynaidan i hate being a child of divorce😭

Miami, Florida May 6th

GRAND Prix number two with Elix, attempt number two by Mr. Stuart Schafer to get into your pants. Can it get any worse?

Yes, yes it can. Because as long as you have “a job” you don’t have to come to these sponsor events. Which sucks for you, not having an acting job for the moment has never felt more like a punishment from the universe.

Artists, from actors to singers are here promoting their gigs while all you do, again, is take pictures with men in jeans and loafers and try not to barf every time you consume Elix.

You’re watching your career crumble in front of your eyes and you can’t do anything to save it from burning when it hits the floor. Mildred has called you several times during the course of the weekend to inform you of canceled interviews, revoked invitations and “sorry we’re just looking for something else” calls from casting agents.

Part of you is in disbelief that a five minute interview from your ex-boyfriend is feeding the fire, part of you expected it all the same. Women are the preferred villain in the narrative, and if it means putting a man above them, the media has had the choice made for a while.

Did you really have it coming, though? There have been endless comments about how it was about time people realized the type of person you are.

But what are you? Who are you really?

You’re a coward. You tell that to yourself in the mirror first thing in the morning.

Many people have the luxury to say they can’t pinpoint the exact moment where they went wrong. You can’t afford the pleasure of such obliviousness, because the exact moment everything went wrong was when Aidan got down on one knee.

And when the question that left his lips went from "Will you marry me?" to "Why won't you?" You knew there was no turning back.

Marriage wasn’t a foreign concept to you, but while it is generally seen as a milestone, for you it was just another stepping stone. The roles of The Wife and The Mother were something you might eventually grow into, but on the night of your third anniversary, you realized you weren't even ready for that of The Fiancée.

Was it genuinely a surprise for Aidan that you had to close the velvet box he was holding in front of you, hiding the diamond ring from your sight, before he dropped his other knee to the ground and whispered 'Why?'

Never, in the three years you'd been together, had you seriously talked about marriage. It was another bridge you would cross once you got there, and in your mistaken calculations, you thought it would be around the time your relationship turned five. That's the limit for romantic relationships without a ring involved according to most women's magazines, and your own mom. At least neither know the ring was the cause of the breakup.

It's a little pathetic how lucky you consider yourself that the tabloids don't know you rejected an engagement. They're cruel enough as it is, things can only go further downhill, straight to hell.

"You good?"

Your best friend in the world, Victoria Presley, is able to join you in the VIP area of the Paddock thanks to a couple pictures on instagram where she tagged Elix. God bless the era of influencers. Or, family connections. Being the daughter of Sony Music executive Luke Presley and celebrity life coach Claire Walker can open many doors. Well it isn't Vic's fault being born into a rich and influential family, at least she's doing her own thing with her beauty products.

"Yes, I am," you shrug. Q3 is going on right now and although you try your best to keep your focus on the two red cars around the circuit, you find it hard to get out of your head. Plus it's so hot in here you feel sticky and gross.

"I lost you for a moment there," she insists, sipping her glass of champagne, the eyebrow raise she gives you after means she needs more info into what was going through your head just seconds ago.

"Not getting any call backs right now," you sigh, taking the flute from her although all it would take for you to get your own is a few steps. "I'm kind of frustrated."

"I'm sorry babe," Vic rubs your back, unbothered by your stealing. "You'll get something soon."

"And E! cancelled my interview, AND—"

Tires screech and an 'ooooh' goes through the grand stands before the screens show a red car embedded in the barriers. A groan of "It's Leclerc!" passes through the people around you in the VIP Lounge.

You grimace, focused on the circuit again as Charles leaves his car, shaking his arms before hitting the halo several times, frustrated.

"See everyone has bad streaks," Vic has gotten her own champagne again and is pointing to the screen, where the Ferrari driver is being followed on his way out. "It's his second crash, no?"

Other people's disgrace doesn't soothe your own, so you give Vic a stern look, causing her to shrug.

Q3 is done and Ferrari has mixed feelings about their two drivers' results. As for you, the faster you can get back to your hotel, the better.

─────────

Vic drags you to dinner with a couple of her influencer friends. Everyone and their mother is in attendance at Miami, and they’re here to have fun.

"They're here!" the girl to Vic's left whisper-yells, stretching her neck to look over at the entrance of the restaurant.

The place has been completely full the whole time you've been here, which has been a while, you're done with your dinner and have a few drinks on you, yet Vic has begged you twice to stay 'just a little longer'.

Of course Vic is having the time of her life, talking about promotion agreements and posting schedules, and although you hang out with lots of influencers and social media stars on your daily life, you're not clicking with any of them tonight. Have you become bitter? No, of course not.

"y/n knows them, she can just introduce us," another one giggles, and she cheers with her tequila sunrise to your own half-empty drink that's resting on the table.

"Hmm, what?" you chuckle, unsure of how you missed the part where you entered the story.

"The Ferrari Drivers," the first girl answers in that 'obviously' tone you hate when people use with you. "You're with Ferrari all the time lately, aren't you?"

"I'm with Elix," you clear up, best as you can as they're not really paying attention, their eyes following the group of men that are being escorted by a hostess to their table. "So you know, it's not really—"

"But you've met them,"

"Well, yes but..."

Yes but, you've seen them in scattered moments where they nod and smile at you passing by and the three times you've had to take pictures drinking Elix. You don't even get to the coworker level of knowing them.

"Well let's go!"

"Hold on Holly," Vic speaks up for the first time, "I mean, they literally just got here."

"Which is why we came here," Holly can't seem to get rid of that know-it-all tone, and it's frankly starting to annoy you even if she has a different target now.

It's time to use the angry eyes with Vic, again,in less than 24 hours. That's why she kept asking you to wait just a little longer.

"How did you know they'd be here?" you question, although you already know what a cleveage can do to get any information you want. Can't blame a girl for using her tools.

“I have my ways,” Holly says, and does in fact, fix her cleavage. Fair enough.

"Vic..." you whisper, as the rest of them regather in their own conversation. "What's happening?"

"I just– they said they really wanted to meet the Ferrari guys, y/n," Vic half whines. She's doing the most to impress the other girls, which is a very Vic thing to do, but still you don't like it. "And since you work with them, well it would be easier to approach them, right?"

Wrong.

"I- Vic, I don't work with these guys. We don't even work for the same people, and... it would be weird to approach them while they're trying to have dinner peacefully."

You are not a big fan of interruptions because you've heard enough of your coworkers talk about how annoying it is. As for yourself, sometimes you mind, sometimes you don't. It all depends.

You can barely distinguish their table with all the movement around the restaurant, but you manage a peek at Carlos' hair. Both of them are there, surrounded by a bunch of other Ferrari guys.

"So? Let's go," Holly is speaking again, downing the rest of her alcoholic Shirley Temple.

"I have to use the bathroom," you announce, dropping the napkin that covered your lap on the table.

"Right now?" the other girl—you feel guilty for not remembering her name— groans.

You refrain from replying, and try not to stomp to the bathroom like a toddler throwing a tantrum. If there’s anything that you hate is feeling used, and it hurts a lot more when it comes from Victoria.

It’s something else when she uses her doe-eyed stare and says “please, please, please” to get her way even with you, rather than set you up to impress her other friends.

You take your time to reapply lipstick in the bathroom and soothe your annoyance. You have told Vic before that she needs to ask for things, not just push you into awkward situations. At least she didn’t follow you to the restroom.

Taking a deep breath, you step out of the bathroom, wondering how to go on about this. It’s very likely that things get twisted and it is you who’ll look like she wants to brag about knowing the Ferrari guys, which you’re sure they’re used to—being bragged about. But you don’t want that.

There are many clichés that you have experienced, both as a character in RomComs where the biggest makeover that is done to your character is to apply a little mascara and remove the glasses (you hate that, what’s wrong with wearing glasses?). And in real life, with big romantic gestures like receiving a bouquet with a hundred roses and one is artificial… Blah blah.

This cliché is a little more ridiculous, though, as you crash into Charles Leclerc while leaving the restroom.

“Oh, sorry,” you half-smile back at him, he’s already smiling, showing dimples and everything. You see his appeal no matter how much you don’t want to notice it. Tall, green-blue eyes and those stupid dimples. Not to mention the fact that you suddenly find accents charming. Again, stupid.

“Hey y/n,” he says still smiling, “Did you just get here?”

“Uh, no actually we’re leaving in a few minutes,” you move out of the way of a lady that wants to get into the restroom, she eyes you both for a moment before continuing on her way.

“Are you here with your friends? Or is it with Elix?”

“My friends. Thank God I get to be away from Elix for a few hours.”

Charles chuckles and the moment runs long enough to become awkward. You’re still outside of the bathrooms and another guy has too given you an off look as he made his way inside.

"Let me walk you back to your table," Charles offers as a way of breaking the silence and you shake your head no.

"You don't have to, my friends are probably on the way out already, anyway."

Are you being selfish by keeping Vic's friends away from him? It doesn't matter to you, not really. But really a small part of you doesn't want things to go their way.

Charles doesn't listen to your refusal anyway, and asks you to lead the way with a gesture.

"I didn't see you at the Ferrari Suite after Quali," he mentions as he follows you a step behind.

"I was in the VIP Lounge with a friend," you explain, "I'll be at the Suite tomorrow, though."

You stop at your table, where the three girls are still doing their best to ogle at the Ferrari guys.

"Hey," you get their attention back and not one in the three of them even attempt to hide the pleasant surprise that Charles' presence gives them. "Are you ready to go?"

It's Vic's turn to give you a look. One that tells you to not be unfair, things have just started to go as they planned.

While you return the pointed look to Vic, Holly strikes a conversation with Charles. Lightning quick.

"Let's go," you repeat, "Gotta be up early tomorrow."

"Can we get a picture, though?" the other girl—lord, if you could remember her name you'd feel a little better —adds quickly.

"Do you mind?" you ask Charles before he can reply. You don't want to make a fuss and have half the restaurant acknowledging his presence and his disposition to take pictures and sign autographs while he's trying to have dinner.

"Not at all," he shakes his head and waits patiently for everyone to be camera-ready while you stare. "Aren't you getting in the picture?"

"I'll take it," you hold your hand out for an iPhone, and get Holly's bedazzled one. Charles frowns but you just say 'okay, ready?' before pointing the camera at them.

No one else argues the fact that you're not in the picture.

A chorus of 'thank you's' passes quickly as you return the iPhone and the three influencers start checking the picture. They're probably better photographers than you, you can accept that.

"So I'll see you tomorrow, y/n," Charles leans towards you, leaving the group to their own thing after he pleased their request. "Right?"

"I'll be the one drinking Elix," you joke, half-whining.

"I'll be the one in the red car," Charles jokes back, a wide smile spreading on his face.

You laugh, fighting against the sudden shyness caused by the familiarity.

"Goodnight," he calls quietly, and the girls wish him a goodnight and good luck for the race before he snakes through tables back to his friends.

Not another thank you is directed at you as your group leaves the restaurant to wait for the Uber back to the hotel.

─── team principal radio: ❝hello! thank you for reading! I'm really grateful for everyone who has interacted with this story, I hope you're enjoying it so far ♡❞

[zabala0z]

I’m very scared to watch the next episodes. Anyways hi, it’s me, your friendly neighborhood host. I got a lot of thoughts and I’m dying here 😭

MAG 72: Takeaway

Another meat thing oh god. Like I physically grimaced when Goodall had his Achilles heel cut like genuinely that’s one of my fears. Also another direct connection to like Christianity and meat. Or like kinda because in Rations I think, that guy made a prayer that was originally a Christian prayer I believe but altered it to put meat in. ALSO, Haan killed his wife but apparently she had self-inflicted wounds as well. I’m thinking this is maybe cult or some kind of like sacrificial thing going on. Maybe the wife wanted to die.

We also have Haans nephew who appeared in “Killing Floor”. He had his own meat sort of story. Guess it runs in the family 💀

MAG 73: Police Lights

I feel like Maxwell Rayner is not dead simply because it’s not the most implausible thing considering Michael Crew pops up in a couple episodes after jumping out a window. But who knows maybe Rayner is truly gone (I am betting not) also Natalie was there which definitely made me feel a little sad. I always feel a lot in terms of cults. I’m trying to figure out what Rayner and like the cult was planning on doing to the kid. Maybe kill him? But I feel like that’s too basic, they were probably doing something else. The fog seemed to hurt when it hit that one police guy like it burned him. Came out of that dusty old man’s mouth after all.

Also Basira quitting? Queen shit. I cannot blame her.

MAG 74: Fatigue

Oh yeah this is good. Something about the disjointed events really adds to the sleep deprived perspective I love it. Also MICHAEL. What is Michael I swear to god. Every appearance of this weirdo makes me more and more confused. What does he get out of this? Is it just for fun? He didn’t seem to benefit at all, like he even told Lydia she looked terrible 💀

It was said he was making spirals out of grass blades. What is with this creature and spirals, like that corridor was trippy too. I’m wondering if spirals are fractals. Lydia was drawing them for some reason. Similar to Evo’s dad in Burned Out.

And I KNEW Sasha was going through the tunnels. Like duh. I think she was the one who screwed up the quality because multiple times have electronics have been screwed around like tape recorder and the computer. I have no idea who that man is though.

MAG 75: A Long Way Down

This statement takes place after Michael jumps out the window. I guess he changed a lot. And he got some drip because why is he wearing a full suit?? I can’t tell if he actually contributed to Grants disappearance because maybe he was doing something else y’all 😭 (I’m in denial.) I am wondering what his little spell did back in Literary Heights. Did he like- bind himself with the lightning thing? I don’t know how that would work. He did say “I am yours” so did he like..sell his soul. That’s what I’m thinking.

Feeling really bad for grant. I don’t have a major fear of heights but the way the situation is described, I’d develop one.

MAG 76: The Smell of Blood

Wooo Melanie King! First time a character gave two statements which is cool. I’m wondering what kind of meme she ended up. Someone draw that.

Not much to say about this episode but oh my god I’m so happy someone noticed Sasha. I’ve been waiting for this moment for so long. I miss Sasha dude 😭

One thing I’m curious about is like…what is going to be the ending. Because right now, the institute, or technically Jon, has so many probable enemies right now. Like you got the Church of yada yada, the circus, Fake Sasha, all those diseased people, Michael, the Lukas family, etc. Who is going to drop the other shoe? Because right now, they all have the other shoe istg.

[basu-shokikita]

Your skwistok duel rants have actually made me ship them. I've been rewatching the series and I'm starting to see more sparks than I did on my first couple watches. Any other big series moments that have you seeing more of their compatibility?

ahhh really?? that's so nice to hear ;o; i love my silly boys

hmm well, tbh skwisgaar accepting toki into the band was what sold me out on skwistok for good. but it's exactly because it explained EVERYTHING for me. before watching dsr i liked skwistok but i was convinced it was a one-sided deal on toki's part. but once that we were shown that it was skwisgaar who welcomed him into dethklok, that it was skwisgaar and skwisgaar only who wanted him in it i was like oh shit...he loves him back....

so rewatching the series with this origin story in mind, made me see them under a new light, particularly when it came to skwisgaar. whereas before i saw skwisgaar being uncaring of toki, i was now realizing that he did care, he just had a shitty way of showing it. he's a tough love kinda guy. yet, he's still a bit possessive of him and pretty protective for his cold bitch standards.

but anyway for skwistok moments that i find important in no order:

skwisgaar's weird jealous tantrum when he walks into toki and his guitar teacher in dethlessons. it's fucking hysterical but i'm also fascinated with the way it's framed like toki is cheating on skwisgaar. which skwisgaar definitely thought, by the way. yes, he was worried about toki becoming better than him but imo he was also upset about toki having a guitar bond with anyone that wasn't him. and hey, after the duel? it makes total sense.

skwistok drunk driving and shooting at the beginning of dethrace. i've already talked about how funny it is to me that skwisgaar was doing that with toki but mostly i think it speaks miles about the both of them that they chose each other to go fuck around and break the law. like, these guys are actually close???

in the same vein, skwistok pranking murderface in prankklok. the way toki lies in skwisgaar's bed so comfortably, like he's been there soo many times that it's essentially his room too. his two little feet dangling in the air, silly laugh while listening to skwisgaar on the phone. it's so fucking cute they love each other's company so much

the infamous 'stop copies me' from dethcarraldo. not only does it send me to tears everytime but it showcases their competitive nature in a way that i find both endearing and cute. i mean, toki repeating everything skwisgaar says and refusing to acknowledge it??? and skwisgaar acting like an offended child about it?? these guys share the braincell, how can you ever separate them?

toki dressing up as skwisgaar in the dethklok tribute band. stealing his clothes. acting stupid when skwisgaar pointed it out. looking absolutely elated when he was called skwisgaar skwigelf in that shitty club. shit out of a fanfic i swear. and then not only that but skwisgaar being fine with being toki in the tribute band?? you guys get a room my god

toki hitting skwisgaar the most in doublebookedklok* considering charles said toki was hitting his bandmates cause he wanted their attention...does it mean he wants skwisgaar's attention the most? look, it might be obvious by this point but having the narrative acknowledge that toki not only idolizes skwisgaar but wants his attention...

the unforgettable, the iconic 'i'll sees you in vallhaska' scene from the s1 finale. i feel like it truly bares skwistok's dynamic to its core. skwisgaar unable to say goodbye properly, so he tells him he'll see him again. toki unable to admit how he really feels about skwisgaar so he says he hates him. skwisgaar smiling because he KNOWS that's not what toki really meant. peak romance right here

skwisgaar actually trying to save toki in bookklok. it's played for the laughs but i can't stop thinking of how skwisgaar genuinely thought toki was going to die and, despite toki essentially ruining his life, he didn't hesitate to run and try to save him. 'comes back to me toki' lives rent free in my mind like what the hell was that. what in the WORLD. was that. jesus christ. how could they end the ep like this really

the entirety of the staresdown. skwistok canon, i'm afraid

last but not least i'd say the entirety of army of the doomstar tbh. it might not be focused on skwistok but the skwistok moments we got out of it were GOLDEN. narrative wise i give a special shoutout to toki carrying skwisgaar on his back + giving him his guitar cause he knew skwis needed it. the amount of love and concern in here. that's his beautiful guitarist wife that he adores.

these are the big moments of the top off my head but really it is about the details with them. a lot of nuances in their relationship are kinda lost to the background because it's not their dynamic that carries the plot, so you just gotta focus on them haha. for example one of my subtle faves is toki going catatonic in dethfam and skwisgaar going 'what?? you're not talking to me??' because like. damn this bitch can't handle his little guy not talking to him for 5 seconds. talk about being codependent

anyway, i hope i answered your question somehow anon ✌️

*upon rewatching doublebookedklok, i've realized toki hits murderface just as much as he does skwisgaar but my point still stands. at the very least skwisgaar is one of the members toki wants the most attention from

[gingersforeverbox]

Hi, no one asked for this, but have some Nathan Bateman x Reader headcanons/ drabble ideas

A/n: Howdy, I know it's been a hot minute since I posted something of my own, but I've been a simp for this stupid-genius bastard for a while now, and here is just a dump of the thoughts that are bouncing around in my head about Bitchman himself :)

Fem!Reader x Nathan Bateman btw

Content warnings: Nathan for obvious canonical reasons, the good kush🍃, swearing (probably), suggestive material that is +18 (If I find a minor on my lawn I swear to all that's good that I will tell your parents/guardians that you're being inconsiderate of boundaries Ya lil gremlins), that's all I can think of for now, but let me know if I missed anything! <3

Pretty little homemaker Reader? Yeah. Pretty little homemaker Reader who got to happily retire once they married Nathan and be a domestic, feminine person without care? Even better!

Pregnant Reader where we learn about what it’s like to be expecting with him (spoiler: he is a pain in the ass up until you have to snap at him to be considerate to the person who will give him his child, then he surprisingly gets his head out of his ass to try and be better for you and y'all's child).

Reader and Nate have to go to a gala or some shit for the first time as an official couple then there’s a bunch of questions from the press and coworkers about y'all being together, and he is basically like "Honey, I own the planet, whatever you don't want public won't be public. it's that simple, now let me show you this ice sculpture that looks like a dick if you look at it right >:)"

Stoned Nathan and Reader. She does it for fun, he insists that he’s gonna be chill, but he is such a fuckin nerd that he babbles about how scientifically interesting weed is while Reader is just like “M’kay babe, keep talkin’, you’re cute like this iloveyou” and Nathan kinda just buffers for a minute before then is high as a kite when he realizes "oh fuck this woman makes me feel things and I'm too high to try and hide it iloveyoutoo"

Nathan getting genuinely confused when Reader treats Kyoko with basic dignity despite her being an AI, and Reader basically being horrified with how he treats her and actively goes out of her way to be nice to Kyoko. Does Nathan learn to be nicer to his AI? Does he still treat them like shit and it bites him in the ass? YOU DECIDE!

Bossy!Reader who is one of BlueBook's communications experts, and he can't wrap his head around the idea of Reader, the same lady who doesn't hesitate to call one of his ideas bad-shit crazy, being the same lady who easily schmooses his business partners for him until he sees her in action at a conference they both have to attend. Nathan then realizing that he likes his organic women to be a lil fiesty.

*forewarning that this one is a little self-indulgent:* Nathan and a Psychologist reader? I would pay Money to watch those two bicker about everything. like come on, Nathan's fuckin' nuts and Reader deals with emotionally/ mentally troubled people for a living. Just imagine BlueBook deciding to assign him a psychologist since he lives in the middle of nowhere all the time, and Reader taking one look at him and being like "Oh, he's not just a narcissistic rich man, he's a narcissistic rich man with a literal god complex.... interesting :)))" then proceeding to actually help him regardless. Bbgorl wouldn't know what hit him.

That's all for now folks, as you were 😊

....psst, hey, if anyone is interested in reading something with any of these ideas I would happily see what I can do to make a lil somethin'-somethin'. Also, if you wanna take a stab at writing any of these, all I ask is that you tag me so I can get some credit and so I can see y'all's awesome work <3

[greazyfloz]

Youtube Couple w/ Jack Hughes

Fluff

Warnings: swearing?

Word Count: 0.9k

“Hello, and welcome back to my channel” I say smiling at the camera, Jack laughs at me looking the other way. “Today I am joined by my boyfriend, Mr. Jack” I introduce Jack to the camera. Jack laughs waving to the camera, I look away from the camera and to Jack “What are you laughing at?”, “You’re a nerd” Jack laughs. I roll my eyes laughing and look back at the camera, “Today we will be answers questions people have been dying to ask us-”, “Babe I doubt they are dying to ask” Jack says interrupting me. I ignoring him continuing “Earlier I asked you guys on instagram to ask us questions and we will be picking the juiciest ones and answering them” I say and looking at Jack, “Yeah what she said” Jack said laughing at the camera. 

“Okay, Jack” I hand over my phone, “You start”. Jack takes the phone swiping through the questions before finding one he wants to respond to, “Are you guys living together” Jack says reading off the phone quietly. “You have to say it to the camera” I remind him, “I didn’t like that one though, let me find another”, Jack scrolls through more questions then finds one “Are you a virgin?” Jack says. “Sometimes” Jack responds. I roll my eyes taking the phone back. “I will ask the questions then” I say making Jack laugh.

“Okay, so this person asked. Do you think you are a good kisser?” I ask, “Oh the best, she can’t stay away” Jack says first. I nod in agreement “It’s true” I say, “She’s alright” Jack jokes pointing his thumb towards me, I hit his hand down laughing, “You think you are so funny” I say, “So do you” Jack quickly answers. 

“Okay, next question. When are you guys getting married?” I ask elbowing Jack, Jack blushes scratching his head, “I’m joking, I’m not going to put you on the spot like that” I say and Jack responds, “I was going to say, damn I don’t even have a ring yet” making us both laugh. “This one is juicy” I say reading the next question, “oh god” Jack says. 

I laugh before ready the next question, “When is the last time you guys fought? What was it about?” I ask, “I genuinely don’t know this answer I say after” I continue, Jack gave me an are you serious look. “The other day-” Jack started, “oh my god! No! I forgot!” I say laughing. “I threw her in the lake the other day and she lost it” Jack starts, “okay no, I told you I didn’t want to go in. You know I hate lake water! And i did not ‘lose it’” I say looking at Jack, Jack started laughed, “Okay you did yell at me and then ignored me for the rest of the day” he said. “You are making us sound so bad” I laugh, “Well we don’t fight that often” Jack defends. “True, it’s not really fights either more bickering and it’s usually resolved quickly” I say. 

“This question follows, Have you fought in front of your family?” I ask, “Not your family, no” Jack starts, “We are around mine more, so not in front of your parents. Ahhh” Jack starts to think, “I’m trying to think about mine, because it definitely has happened” Jack starts then shakes his head, “I can’t think of a time but I know it has happened because they almost take your side”

“This person asked, do you guys even like each other?” I say laughing, causing Jack to also laugh. Jack pulls me closer bringing him into his side and and kiss his cheek, “Yeah as you can see we actually hate each other” Jack laughs

I turn my phone at Jack showing him the next question, Jack laughs out, “Call a relative and tell them you cheated on Y/n, but you also just found out she is pregnant” I read out. “Not mum” Jack says, “She would have a heart attack. Quinn or Luke” Jack continued, “Oh the best reaction would be Luke. Jack pulls out his phone and clicks Luke’s contact. “Hello?” Luke answers, “Hey, where are you at?” Jack asks, “With Quinner, your on the bluetooth. We are on our way back up to the lake house now. Mum and Dad there yet?” Luke responds, “No they went out for dinner. It’s just me here, listen I need to tell you something” Jack says smiling turning his head so his silent laughs can’t be heard. “Wait, you’re alone? Did Y/n go to dinner too?” Luke says causing Jack and I both to cover our mouth laughing, “No, she left to go shopping but listen that is what I called about” Jack starts, he takes a breath before starting again “So Y/N told me she was pregnant yesterd-” Jack gets cut off my Luke, “Y/n is pregnant?! Does mom and dad know?!”, “Luke, let me finish. She told me she was pregnant and I froze because I’ve been cheating on her”, “Fucking dumbass” Quinn says, causing both Jack and I to cover our faces from laughing. “Okay, how are you going to tell Y/n?” Luke says. “Well, I wasn’t going to actually” Jack says. The call abruptly ends. Jack and I both laughing and ending the video.

“I should call them before Quinn tells your mom” I say before the door opens, “Jack, get down here now!” I hear Ellen call out. Jack and I both get up making our way downstairs. “Yes?” Jack says, “Quinn called me and- oh- nevermind” ellen says. “It was a prank” I say, “Quinn called you some fast” Jack says laughing

[rachel-archer]

'cause karma is my boyfriend

Returning at Royal Rumble had been the goal, the dream, the only thing that made sense. Liv had been more than happy to show up and show out, with her new cry about it gimmick in full swing. She’d had an absolute banger of a showing, if she was honest - and being number thirty had been nice enough that she could skirt most of the stars she didn’t want to see or interact with. Namely Rhea Fucking Ripley.

Old wounds were a bitch to heal.

She’d been Rhea’s once, now Dominik Mysterio stood in her place - and honestly if Liv hadn’t worked with Raquel for months (both in the ring and on her own self-worth following Rhea breaking her like a fucking cracker and sprinkling her crumbs on the ground to grind her combat boots on to-) she would probably harbor some levels of hatred for the younger SuperStar. Instead she was worried about him, genuinely worried about him. She’d kept up with the backstage gossip while she’d been away healing, and had kept up with the storylines (both real and kayfabe) while she was out. Making sure that she was up to date for her impending return.

And what had she noticed?

Just how fucked up the Rhea&Dom situation was. 

The double standard of it all left Liv livid on Dom’s behalf. Countless times Rhea left him literally out to dry, or the other members of the Judgment Day had seemingly ‘forgotten’ about him in the hustle and bustle of attempting to win gold - and it had only gotten worse once they won gold. Dominik’s own belt was a cautionary story, and Rhea had issued an ultimatum (which had left another sour taste in Liv’s mouth, a hark back to another, “We win tonight or I swear to god, Gionna, you are going to regret it….”, and it had all been too much). 

Then Dom was expected to paint a smile on his otherwise adorable face and parade around with his stablemates like he wasn’t the butt of some long-running joke that didn’t have a punchline. All of it grated on Liv - but she had no way to get to the boy, she’d talked with Seth and Becky, hell she’d even reached out to Corbin when she saw that the pair were chummy on NXT, but there was a wall according to them all, a Rhea-shaped wall that seemed to paint a shadow over all his interactions with anyone outside the Judgment Day.

So, Liv resigned herself to watching him from the sidelines, careful not to be caught. 

Which was why, accidentally, she found herself hiding in the locker room (loosely termed, it was more like a office room, but whatever) beside the Judgment Day’s, hand over her mouth to keep herself quiet, as she pressed her ear to the wall and listened. The men’s Royal Rumble had just finished up, and all the Judgment Day men (R-Truth included) had made it back to have Rhea assess them. “...I mean you did at least cover for the fact that Brock wasn’t out there, but why were you in the corner so much, Dom Dom?”

Liv bit her lip - so Rhea did the sticky sweet accusatory tone with him, too. “Jey was hurt.” Dom defended, “He tweaked his arm, and I was checking on him-”

“For half you're time out there?” Damian’s voice sounded sharp, angry, pointed.

“I…” Dom seemed resigned, “I hit all my marks.” Is what he settled on, “I did everything I was scripted to do, everything I was supposed to do, I…” He trailed off, “What should I have done?”

There was a long beat of silence, “Well if you don’t know, then I guess it doesn’t matter.” Rhea’s tone was cutting. Liv heard the locker room door slam a couple times, she felt tears on her lashes for Dom, and for a memory of herself hearing those same words.

“Dom.” It was Finn’s voice, he sounded worried, “Don’t, ah, fuck, ‘mere kid.” There was shuffling then a soft hum and, “Don’t let them ruin your night, you were good out there, kid, so good.” Finn sounded soft, “Honest, you were in the longest of all of us, and you did good - checkin’ in on Jey and the others when they looked like they were hurt for real, got the makin’s of a legend in those bones, buddy.” There was a sniffle, “Rhea’s only hard on you because she cares, and Damian’s all tangled up in that briefcase right now, JD isn’t sure where he fits, and Truth, well he doesn’t know what planet he is on most of the time…” 

“I just wanna make her proud, Finn.” Dom sounded wrecked, and it made Liv shake with anger she couldn’t place. Rhea had no right to break apart a perfectly good boy, shake him down to his core, and mold him into a fragile little bird. Dominik Mysterio used to have a bite that matched his bark, he used to push himself, he used to grate on the nerves of older SuperStars just to get a shot at something more. 

“Dom, baby.” Finn sounded resigned, too, Liv realized, “Sometimes it’s not about making her proud, but making yourself proud. I’m proud of you every time we go out there.” Finn promised, “I’m going to keep being proud of you, even when the stable breaks up, even when I’m not tag team champions with Damian, even when we are on opposing sides, because Dominik… you’ve grown so much in the last year. You're more than you think, sweetheart.” 

Dom let out a whine, “Thank you.”

“Clean your face up, lad, I’m going to go meet the others, you come join us when you're ready for our pap walk to the car.” The door to the locker room slammed again, Liv thought about going to Dom then and there, but changed her mind, there were too many risk involved, too many people who might see her - she jumped as her phone chimed (internally she cursed herself for not cutting the volume off), it was Becky asking her where she was - they had plans. Liv waited until she heard the door to the room next to her slam again before she snuck out, only the retreating silhouette of Dom ahead of her. 

Finding Becky, Seth, and Bayley Liv settled into step with them. “Where have you been?” Seth asked, as he tossed one arm around Becky and the other around Liv, “Stalking someone?”

“No, yes, sort of?” She ventured, a pout on her lips.

Bayley blinked, “What are we doing?”

Becky snickered, “Liv is worried about the wee Mysterio.”

“That is one hundred percent not allowed.” Bayley objected, “Like beyond not allowed, like so not allowed that he’s practically wrapped in NDAs and government levels of red tape, Livvy, there is no way, no way, you should be anywhere near him.” She lowered her voice, “You were practically destroyed last time you even… last time she caught you alone, when Raquel first went out.” Liv rolled her eyes, Bayley was one of her longest friends, “Don’t do that, you can’t… you can’t save him, Liv, just like we couldn’t save you, you have to let him figure it out.” Bayley asserted.

Seth snorted, “He’s a good boy, misguided right now, but good. He’ll figure it out.” Becky looked at Liv, the pair quietly agreeing that Dominik Mysterio was a good boy but would not figure it out on his own, “Come on, let’s get that steak we talked about, I want Roux!” 

“Well it feels like ages since I’ve seen the cutest little nepo baby in the world!” Liv agreed, giggling. Becky shoved at her around Seth, who chuckled gleefully, even as Bayley caught Liv’s free arm and pressed closer to her side. “How are things with Damage Control?” Liv asked, “I can never get a read on Dakota.”

“Oh, uh, me either.” Bayley admitted, “Pretty sure they are going to throw me out sooner rather than later.”

Liv snorted, as they finally pushed out into the chilly air, ahead of them Dom was trailing along behind JD and Finn, clearly Rhea had left already (and with her Damian), Liv scanned the parking lot but couldn’t see Truth anywhere, so she sort of hovered closer to Bayley, eyes watching across the parking lot as Finn and JD both bundled Dominik up into a hug before they were hustling him - obviously still crying - into the rental they had.

Seth frowned, “Maybe he does need help.”

“Oh, for fucks sake.” Bayley hissed, “We… we aren’t really, this seems risky, like Rhea is on the cover of…”

Becky elbowed her, hard, “The lad needs a hand, Bayley.”

Bayley looked heavenward, “And what do you propose?”

Liv was silent for a moment, “I’m not sure, but I bet tomorrow is going to be a bitch.” 

“Oh, shit, are you back back?” Seth asked her, “Like on the road?”

“I will be, soon.” Liv assured him, “Have to do some wellness checks and get through the legal stuff in Florida.”

-/-

Monday Night RAW had been a rollercoaster, Liv wasn’t cleared enough to be on the show, per say, but she had been backstage. Liv had giggled for Dom when he, JD, Damian and Finn finally attacked R-Truth, only to have the Miz intervene, she honestly thought the boy was going to make it through the night without Dominik getting any sort of underhanded comment from Rhea in regards to Dom - then Rhea had to fuck around and find out with Nia.

Of fucking course Rhea got her ass beat by Nia, Liv was shaking with anger - when she heard the start of an argument backstage, “Where the fuck were you?” Rhea’s voice was almost shrill as it sounded, Liv immediately ducked to avoid being seen, “I just got… Do you not even care about me?” Rhea was posing questions that Dominik either didn’t have an answer for, or wasn’t being nearly as loud in response. “I always come to help you! I’ve never let you look like that big of a fucking idiot, WHERE THE FUCK WERE YOU ALL?”

Dom quietly offered, “No one was with me when I lost my belt…” 

Liv felt her fist tighten, nails digging into her palm, “I WASN’T IN THE COUNTRY!” Rhea shouted, and really, that was enough to make Liv’s eyes burn, her heart in her throat. 

“Mami, please-” Dom suddenly sounded winded, and Liv had a good idea why. Rhea was a lot of things, she was harsh in her love, and had no problem being more physical - Liv had been on the receiving end of displeasure a couple of times before they’d even started to split. Liv ducked quickly, hiding more, as Rhea slammed by, her bag over her shoulder, trialed quickly by Damian.

“Dom, kid, I’m sorry.” Finn sounded desperate, “JD and I have to fly out, or I’d…”

“No, no, it’s… it’s ok, I’m ok.” There was a sniffle there, then Liv watched Finn and JD disappear down the hallway opposite the way Rhea and Damian had disappeared. Liv looked heavenward, sent a quick text to Bayley that read something along the lines of tempting fate, playing with fire, then shot into the locker room the other four had just vacated. She locked the door quickly, seizing the opportunity to be alone with Dom. 

At first Liv couldn’t see Dom, the locker room was admittedly wrecked. Most of the ‘staged’ furniture had been shoved around, Dom’s clothing had been tossed around all over the place (or at least Liv assumed it was Dom’s clothing), and in the far corner, curled up with his head on his knees and shoulders quaking, looking as small as he possibly could was Dominik Mysterio. He didn’t even flinch when she entered, didn’t look up as she made her way across the room, just let out a weak little, “Finn, that you?”

“Not exactly.” Liv offered, which had him jerking up hard enough his head hit the wall, his eyes were huge.

“You shouldn’t be here.” Dom said very seriously.

Liv sighed, “Probably not, you're right.” She agreed, but then sat down a few inches from him, “Look-”

“No.” Dom shook his head, “She’s my mami now, she loves me-”

“Love isn’t an excuse for her to hurt you, for her to be intentionally mean to you, or for her to withhold love and kindness, and basic human rights.” Liv assured him, “I’m not here to like… bad mouth her or anything. I know what it’s like to be loved by Rhea, to be the center of her universe, to hold all her attention. I just, I know how hard it can be to-” Her speech was interrupted by Dom’s phone sounding off, her’s vibrated in her pocket. The pair both looked at their phones - Rhea had thrown Dominik’s own words back at him on X (formerly Twitter).

Dom’s shoulders hunched downward, as he put his phone face down on the floor.

Liv tucked her own phone back into her hoodie pocket, then cleared her throat, “I’m here, if you want to talk.”

Dom was silent for a few moments, “Could you maybe just hug me?” Dom asked, softly, “I don’t get hugs when I…” He trailed off, “If I’m not good enough out there.” He added, a little sheepishly. Liv scooted forward, and opened her arms, Dominik dropped against her, letting his head fall onto Liv’s shoulder, sniffling as he did so. “I… I thought you were lucky, when you were Rhea’s.” Dom offered, quietly, “I thought you were the luckiest girl in the world.”

“I thought that about Nikki and Raquel, too.” Liv offered, softly. Liv rubbed his shoulders, and petted at his mullet, trying to comfort him, “I know you care about her, a lot.” She added, sweetly, “I just… I’m here if you need me, or if you want a friend outside of Rhea and the Judgment Day. I mean, I’m not scared of her.” 

Dom let out a dark chuckle, but wiggled closer to Liv, his head curled against her shoulder, arms around her loosely, as she cradled her head. They stayed like that for long enough that Bayley and Becky had both called Liv four times each, it was Seth who found them, hand knocking hard against the door. Liv untangled Dom, and opened the door, Seth raised his eyebrow, but took Dom’s tear streaked face in, before sighing, “How about you come back to the bus with us, Dom.” Set offered, “Roux is being a handful and I’ve got it on good authority that you are amazing with kids.” 

Dom bobbed his head, slowly. Seth and Liv helped him pack up his stuff and put the room back right. Seth led the pair to the bus where Becky, Bayley, Charlotte, and Andrade. Dom started to back off, redirect himself but Becky caught his wrist, “Come in, lad! We’ve got chinese, but got some chicken tenders for you and Roux.” 

Dom blushed but nodded, and let himself be corralled onto the travel bus, he was quickly hugged by Andrade, then Charlotte, then Becky, and Bayley, and finally he was allowed to sit with Roux. Liv watched him through the meal, he was quiet and downtrodden, but mostly he just looked like he wanted to disappear - everyone tried to pull him into conversation, but the only one other than Liv half-way successful was Andrade and they spoke mostly in stilted-silence. 

His phone ringing had Dom scurrying away from them and out of the travel trailer, one chicken tender in hand and half an apology on his lips. “Ok.” Bayley observed, “I see what you mean.” She looked pointedly at Liv, “Something is wrong there.”

Charlotte and Becky shared a look, while Seth frowned down at his plate, “I’m not sure we should meddle in this, we’ve tried in the past… Nikki, Raquel, Tegan, you…”

Becky frowned, “Its hard to love someone when you don’t love yourself proper.”

Andrade huffed, “Mysterio needs more than women worrying about him.”

Charlotte eyed him, “What do you think we do?”

“We do nothing,” The man offered, “He has to show her his anger, until then nothing we do matters.” 

That answer was not satisfactory for Liv, she leaned back in her seat, and frowned. If she couldn’t get through to Dominik, if she couldn’t make him understand his anger was valid and needed to be expressed, maybe the only voice of reason the Judgment Day seemed to have could help. Finn Balor owed her, after all, he’d betrayed her to be part of the Judgment Day’s stable in the first place. Admittedly she’d been planning to hold onto that favor for a bit, but this seemed more important.

-/-

TikTok was fun to slide through when she was otherwise bored. Hanging around NXT was always iffy, in Liv’s current opinion, but tonight she had wellness checks and physicals to get through, not to mention her legitimate legal team and her trainer worked out of the performance center, so… she was sort of tiered to the building until she was green-lit to move forward with her plans. It was on TikTok, a repost from Insta, that she found a video of Rhea, Dom, and JD obviously recorded at RAW the night before. 

Dom spilled water on the video, called out for Rhea, she ripped JD’s shirt, and used it to clean Dom off. 

Liv wondered idly if that was before Rhea got her ass mauled by Nia Jax?

Probably after. They all looked pretty happy in the video (except JD who looked so over being victimized by Rhea it wasn’t funny, which temporarily sent Liv on a Mean Girls side trip about how Rhea and Regina George would have probably gotten on like a house fire). Liv watched the video a few more times, contemplating. She wasn’t going to involve Rey Mysterio - the man thought his son was a lost cause, both in real life and kayfabe currently. She was limited in the people she immediately trusted, and didn’t need word getting back to Rhea, who could and would make her life a literal hell. 

“Finn!” She said aloud, making Lyra look at her bothered, as the girl walked past her, “Nothing!” Liv promised, waving her off, Lyra had some sort of weird girlfriend problem, which Liv thought was hilarious, above her Roxanne’s music blared to life, Liv exited out of TikTok, and pulled up her messages (she had Finn saved as Irish Demon, don’t ask questions), she sent him a quick text.

To: Irish Demon - > Hello Fergal I need to talk to you, in private, in person.

From: Irish Demon - > To what do I owe this random texting bout, Gio.

To: Irish Demon - > Maybe I miss your weird ass.

From: Irish Demon - > I have me doubts, luv

To: Irish Demon - > Are you in Florida still?

From: Irish Demon - > Maybe

To: Irish Demon - > If you are want to grab a quick bite to eat, need to talk to you for real.

From: Irish Demon - > The Glass Knife, nine o’clock?

To: Irish Demon - > Ok, come alone, Fergal.

From: Irish Demon - > Color me intrigued Jersey!

It wasn’t until she put her phone away that she realized she’d essentially asked Finn on a super secret date, and demanded him to come alone (and in theory not tell his stablemates that he was sneaking out). “Oops.” She hummed to herself, then shrugged her shoulders. It was for the best, really, Dominik needed something - and Liv was starting to think maybe she could be the something, or at least the path to the something. Shaking the thought from her head, she watched Elektra walk past her, she gave her a bit of a wave, the other woman ignored her, and continued walking away. “Rude.”

“Do you always talk to yourself?” Ava Raine asked, Liv yelped as she turned to look at the youngest General Manager. “Shawn asked me to come get you for your health readings.” Ava added, a smile playing on her lips, “And I think it’s super cool that you talk to yourself, I do that and people make fun of me.”

Liv hopped off the crate she was sitting on, “Uh, I normally only talk to myself when my head is super loud.”

Ava grinned, “It helps you organize your thoughts, right?” Liv nodded, and let the younger woman link their arms together, “I’m so excited you're back, you're one of my favorites! I love watching you work, all that stuff you did with Rhea - I got goosebumps! She was practically my big sister when she was still down here in NXT with us peasants.” Ava offered, “Her work with Dom is so good…” And that was the point that Liv stopped listening, letting Ava ramble on endlessly about how ‘amazing’ Rhea was. 

Shawn didn’t clear her but he didn’t bar her from traveling either, just cautioned her to continue checking in with her lawyers and abiding by Florida state laws. Her follow up appointment for wellness was pretty quick, in no time she was sliding out the door, putting distance between herself and the Performance Center. She called for a driver to take her to The Glass Knife. 

Finn was already there, dressed like a normal member of society in a pink shirt and jeans, he had a beanie on and looked like he was doing his best to hide from cameras, “I already ordered us drinks, love.” Finn called to her as she slid into the booth across from him. “You still like the vanilla Affogato, yes?”

“Yes, thank you.” Liv took her seat, “What did you order?”

Finn shrugged, “Water.” 

“Weirdo.” Liv murmured, “Do you ever do anything normal?”

“Should ask you the same thing, Gio.” Finn mused, “Check the menu, gotta order soonish.” Even as he said it, their waitress was quickly approaching so Liv ordered a Roasted Turkey Club Sandwich and two Chocolate Onyx Pastries. Finn patiently waited, then ordered Avocado & Egg Toast and added an order of Chocolate Raspberry Tarts. “Got a sweet spot for chocolate.” Finn murmured, as Liv raised an eyebrow at him. “You like it too, ordered two massive chocolates.”

Liv blew out a raspberry, annoyed, then, “I want to talk about Dom.”

“Thought that might be it.” Finn murmured, “You forgot, love, that Bayley and I are best friends.”

“I didn’t forget, I just figured since she thought I was signing my death warrant that she wouldn’t bring it up.” 

Finn snorted a laugh, “The writing is on the wall, we won’t make it past Mania as a stable, there are too many unstable parts. I… I don’t know where Dom shakes out, I know he wants to have a promo with Rhea, soon, one where he can ask her about her… recent behaviors.”

Liv raised an eyebrow, “Tell me more.”

“He’s gone to Trips about it, and thinks that if he can do it backstage, it might not be the hardest thing to do. Apparently he has a new friend who told him that just because someone says they love him in any capacity that person isn’t allowed a free pass for bad behaviors or near-cheating episodes.” Finn was regarding her carefully, “Sounds familiar, since I’m pretty sure myself and AJ told you something along those lines once before.” 

Liv rolled her shoulders, “It stuck, yeah?” She ventured, “Now I know… being the center of Rhea’s attention its fucking addicting, the way she can look at you, and it feels like you are honestly the only thing she sees, but there is a flip to that-”

“Where being the only thing Rhea sees means she picks and pokes at your soft underbelly in a way that is borderline abusive?” Finn mused, “She doesn’t mean to be harsh, I don’t think.”

Liv barked out a laugh, “You’ve obviously never been in her bed.” 

Finn was silent for a moment, “Gio, what is it that you want to accomplish with this?”

“I want him to know I’m here for him, but to do that, he needs to be able to take plausible breaks, if or when he wants to escape, Fergal I want you to help him.” Liv gave him a pointed look, “I know the pressure of being Rhea’s, know how isolating the whole thing is, I know what it’s going to be like on the other side when he’s coming out of this. I just want you to let him know he’s safe with you, safe enough that if he needs to tap and come to me, that you’ll help him.” 

“The stable might be in trouble, Gio, but we aren’t dead yet.”

“I’m not asking you to betray anyone.” Liv countered.

Finn huffed, “You are asking an awful lot, Rhea is our leader.” 

“She’s a shit leader.” Liv snapped back, irritated, the waitress had returned and dropped off their food.

Finn shoved half of his first tart into his mouth and chewed violently, before, “Alright, love, I’ll help.” 

-/-

“Are you insane!” Bayley caught her arm and yanked her into a closet at the arena for Monday Night RAW, pushing her hard against the far wall, “Are you literally insane?” Bayley added, “I told you to stay away from him - he is like NDAs and red tape had a baby, so you went over me and went to Finn?”

Liv blinked, “What is happening?”

“It’s called an intervention, keep up.” Bayley hissed, “You shouldn’t have went to Finn.”

Liv sighed darkly, “I asked him for a little bit of leeway, Bayley, not to give me Dom on a silver platter.”

Bayley sputtered for a moment, “You actually are insane, Liv this has gone past you protecting him.”

“What, no-” Liv started.

“No it fucking has!” Bayley sassed back, “You want him, and not to protect him. Jesus, are you kidding me? Liv, this is… this is insane!” Bayley nearly shouted.

Liv narrowed her eyes, “Do you know a word other than insane?” She paused, then, “Ok, so maybe I want to be more than friends with Dom, but that’s on the back burner here, like… I just think we could be a good couple, both of us having survived… uh, let’s call it a stent in the school of Rhea’s affection.” Bayley gapped at her, “Its not insane, I have a teeny, tiny, very small, nearly invisible crush… I want to protect him.”

Bayley let out an aggravated snarl, “Insanity is not the only word I know, let’s see, deranged, lunacy, neurotic, mad, manic, psychotic, potentially suicidal…” Rolling her eyes, Liv pushed around her and shoved out the door, nearly falling on her face as she shoved around Bayley, and made her way down the hallway, “INSANITY!” Bayley shouted after her, loudly. 

Liv flipped her off over her shoulder, and hustled down the hallway, and promptly collided with a solid mass.

“Oft.” Dom caught her before she toppled backwards, “You ok, Liv?” Dom asked, sweetly.

Liv looked at him - really looked at him - he looked tired, he looked like he had been crying recently, his skin was a bit washed out which made her sad, and he looked like he was thinner than the previous week. “Uh, I am now.” She looked up at him, momentarily marveling over their height difference (she was a stunning five foot three of insanity, while Dom was six foot one), “Hey, are you ok?” She asked, softly.

Dom frowned, “I’m struggling with this promo I want to do tonight.” He admitted, sheepishly.

“Maybe I can help?” Liv suggested, eagerly. 

Dom looked at her, head cocked, adorably, “Uhm, ok?”

“Where do you want to work on it?” Liv asked, curiously.

Dom bit his lip, “I would normally do it in the Judgment Day Clubhouse…” Liv hummed, how long had they been calling it a clubhouse, she decided that wasn’t important, not when Dominik was looking so adorable and sad and obviously needed to be aggressively cuddled by her, “Uhm, think we can find an empty office or something?”

“Or something.” Liv agreed, “I know just the place.” She backtracked to the closet that Bayley had shoved her in earlier, opened the door and waited for Dom to step in, she followed, shutting the door behind them, and sitting down on the floor. After a second of confusion, Dominik joined them, sitting down across from her, their knees pressed together. “Ok, what are you working on?”

Dom bit his bottom lip, “I want to cut a promo about uh, about the thing that Rhea did.”

“Ok, babe gonna need you to be more specific.” Liv suggested.

Dom looked heavenward, “She used my own soundbite against me, when I lost the title and no one was there to support me. She put it on X, she made it a thing, fans are ripping me apart… are ripping the men of Judgment Day apart, and… and like, she’s always flirting with Jey Uso, Drew McIntyer, hell anyone she wants to, but if I did that the Universe would dissect me. There was no way for me to go out there and help her with Nia, it’s a bad form for us men to hit women, yeah I took a bump or ten with Beth Phoenix, but that was practiced, that was something both of us were comfortable with. Nia likes taking men and women alike out, but I’ve never actually worked with her, and like Damian and them weren’t rushing out there to help her either, but somehow I’m the only one in the doghouse, and-” 

Liv covered his mouth with her hand, it required her to nearly climb into his lap to do so, but he flushed pink and stopped talking altogether, as she gazed at him.“Ok, let’s… let’s start with a list.” Liv released his mouth, but didn’t back out of his space. 

“I’m such an asshole, she was your girlfriend before mine and I’m asking you for help-”

“It’s no big deal.” Liv lied through her teeth, it was a big deal - but she was thankfully far enough removed from her own broken heart that she could separate her messy feelings from Dom’s current very real, very valid, very loud feelings. “Honestly, just, let’s make a list and organize your thoughts.”

-/-

Liv bit her bottom lip as she watched the viewing screen. Dom’s promo was coming up at the top of the third hour, he had been anxious and worried as they wrapped up his actual speech, but she was confident in his abilities (and overjoyed that he’d given her his cell phone number, so she could send him a text, and he would have her number - for talking he’d stressed, but Liv could sense a change in him). 

The framing was awkward at best. There was no purple lighting behind Dom this time, only a soft yellowed hue, he wasn’t wearing his Judgment Day gear, instead he was in his hoodie and jeans, clearly ready to leave and quickly. His hair was smoothed down, and his eyes were wet with unshed tears. “I uh, I want to address the WWE Universe, The Judgement Day and my Mami.” Dom said evenly.

Liv tugged on the hem of her shirt, watching him as he licked his lips, “First, I want to say that I have always wanted to be by Rhea’s side, sometimes Mami doesn’t want me to go out to the ring with her, and I’ve always respected that, because out of all of us, she’s the one who has her shit together.” Dom exhaled, “Last Monday my Mami confronted Nia Jax, and it didn’t go favorably. There has been a lot of… rumbling about why myself, and the other Judgment Day boys didn’t rush out there to help her or save her. I can’t speak for the rest of the boys, but… I didn’t want to have a repeat of when I went against Beth Phoenix, Mami can’t focus on herself when she has to be worried about me, and I know I’ve made a lot of messes lately.” 

Liv’s heart broke a little as he took a deep sigh, “Both the times I lost my belt, I was alone. The first time Mami had asked Damian and Finn to accompany me to NXT, and for reasons I don’t know they chose not to follow me. The second time I’m not sure what happened, but I did say something when I was upset, on camera I called out my stable, demanding to know where they were. I know Mami was out of the country and she wasn't the ‘leader’ when it happened, so I’m not upset with her, in fact I’m not upset with Damian, Finn, or anyone for that.” Dom let out a nervous laugh, “I’m not even… I think I’m more… I’m hurt.”

Liv looked sidelong at Finn who had stepped into gorilla ahead of a match he and Damian had, his eyes were glued to the screen, “I’m hurt because I do everything for Mami, everything I can, anything she asks of me, and I never complain, because of how much she means to me, but… in the past, she’s, she’s, she flirted with Jey Uso around Fastlane even when it was clear he didn’t want to join the Judgment Day, she flirted with Drew McIntire, she… I understand that flirting is a way to get what Mami wants for the betterment of Judgment Day, but I… I’m not allowed to do that, I can’t flirt with boys or girls to get them to join our stable, if I so much as mention talking to someone else…” He paused, and inhaled, recentering himself, “I take it back, I’m pissed.”

Liv snorted under her breath, “I’m pissed because everything I do isn’t good enough, and the woman I love, my Mami, doesn’t love me enough not to flirt with men who by all standards in this industry are more attractive than me RIGHT IN FRONT OF MY FACE. Mami treats me like I’m her king when it’s convenient, for TikToks and other things where eyes are around, but I’m not, I’m some sort of joke, but everyone forgot the punchline.” He snarled, and Liv recoiled a bit, she hadn’t meant for him to use that, “I’d say that ends now, but we all know Mami knows best and she’s always on top, so… I’m pissed and I’m hurt, and I just want…” He faltered, “I want SOMEONE to look at me like I deserve to be put first, just once.” 

With that he flung the microphone and stalked off. Finn let out an exhale, Damian hadn’t joined them yet, so he stepped forward and whispered, “I think Liv you’ve started a war.” 

“I swear that was not my intention.” Liv deflated a little bit as Damian shoved into the room.

“Did you see what Dom-” He stopped short, then eyed Finn and Liv, “This is your fault.” He pointed at Liv.

“I didn’t do anything.” Liv defended, “Rhea’s the one flirting with everyone except Dominik!” 

“Stay away from him, Jersey.” Damian warned, “Rhea is going to destroy you for touching her toy.”

“He isn’t a toy!” Liv growled, “He’s a human with feelings and emotions-” Liv stopped speaking as Rhea pushed into Gorilla, trialed by JD who looked a bit concerned. Liv steeled herself, narrowed her gaze at Rhea, “You deserve to be made responsible for the way you make other people feel. Dominik Mysterio is a human with feelings and emotions, not some toy you can play with when you feel like it and ignore when it please you.”

Rhea snarled, “Stay away from him, or I’ll put you on the shelf with another injury.”

Liv didn’t back down, “Maybe you should remember who you are talking to, sweetheart. I know all you're tells, and what he said, it got to you, because it’s true. And you are so scared, so fucking scared, of you're fans finding out what you can be like, when the cameras are off.” 

Rhea caught her by the front of her shirt and slammed her into a nearby wall, “I said what I said.”

“I’m not scared of you.” Liv snarled back, “I deserve better than you, Nikki deserved better than you and she found it, Raquel deserved better than you and she found it, Tegan deserved better than you and she found it, verdict is out on you and Action Jackson he’s sort of a piece of shit, but bottom line? Dominik deserves so much better than you.” 

At that, mercifully, Bayley and Becky pushed into Gorilla as the music for the Judgment Day sounded. Rhea released Liv, snarled at the other two, and trailed out with Damian and Finn, JD offered Liv his fist, she bumped her knuckles to his and he sort of smiled at her, before he too ducked out of gorilla. “Insanity.” Bayley hissed, loudly, at Liv, before she caught her by her wrist and yanked her out of gorilla, with Becky bringing up the rear. 

-/-

The hotel after was a bit of a ghost town, but Liv still managed to find him from his vague text message of ‘alone’, she’d had to convince the hotel manager to release his room number to her, and give her a key card to get into his room. Arms loaded down with ice cream, a six pack of water, flavor packs for the water, pizza, swissmiss to make hot chocolate with, all the chocolate she could find at the 7/11 and a whole bottle of ranch she made her way to his room. She knocked on the door with her elbow, then froze when the door next to his room opened.

Finn emerged, eyeing her, “I’m going to distract Rhea for the next eight hours roughly. She, Damian, JD, Truth and I are going out on the town. Do whatever this mess is then, disappear until we break up, or I swear to god, Liv I will find a way to make this more difficult than you can imagine.” 

“Fair enough.” Liv growled, then managed to dig the ready-made key card out, and swipe it through the reader. She slid in, balancing all her provisions. Dom was in the center of the bed, in a puddle of blankets and tissues. “Hey, Dom.” She breathed out as she started to settle the food down, “What can I do?”

“Can we just binge on food and maybe cuddle?” Dom whispered, she nodded and set about diving up the food and using the microwave to make the hot chocolate, “I didn’t think you’d really come.” Dom whispered.

“Contrary to popular belief, I’ll always come when you call me.” Liv offered, “Because I want to be here, with you, right now.” She bit into one of her pizza slices, “I want to be sappy with you, and eat pizza with you, and maybe when all is said and done with the Judgment Day, I’d kind of like to help you turn face.” 

Dom just blinked, “No one wants me and after that promo, Rhea doesn't even want me.”

Liv wiggled into the blankets next to him, “She’s not one to quickly give up a toy she likes, Dom. As shitty as that is to say, I’m sure she’ll bow off her anger tonight then she’ll come back here and apologize and promise to do better, then she won’t, and you’ll be hurt, then the road to WrestleMania will get messier and messier, then what happens on the biggest stage in the world will happen, and then… then the Judgment Day eventually implodes.”

“Is it bad that I want the implosion to happen sooner rather than later?” Dom asked, as he grabbed his own slice of pizza, “I mean, that sounds bad.” 

“No, it doesn’t.” Liv promised him.

Dom gazed at her as he chewed thoughtfully, “I think I just… I don’t want to make things right with my dad yet, there is too much static there, and not enough like… actual compassion.” Dom dropped his pizza slice nad pressed the heels of his palms to his eyes, “I sound like such a fucking baby.”

“Dom, you are a baby, even if you are an eighteen year veteran.” Liv joked, trying to ease his mood, “I personally love how compassionate and sweet you are, you wear your heart on your sleeve, and no one does micro-expressions like you do.” Dom grabbed his slice and pulled the tub of oreo ice cream towards him. “What were you saying, Dom, before you thought you were being a baby.”

“I just want…” Dom exhaled harshly, “I want someone to see me. Like my dad used me as an extension of his legacy… like Rhea is using me as a convenient puppy-boyfriend type, who always forgives her, supports her unconditionally, and just makes her look like a real human.” He gasped at what he said, hand covering his mouth, shocked that he’d said as much as he did.

Liv sighed but wrapped her arms around him, ignoring her pizza, squeezing him around his middle, “Dom… you are the sweetest, kindest, most wonderful person I think I’ve ever had the pleasure of watching go from daddys good little boy to the biggest nuclear heel in all of WWE.”

“How many times have you watched that happen?” Dom asked, amused.

Liv snickered, “Ok, so once, but it’s un-top-able." That seemed to sooth Dom, the pair settled in to one another then, putting on Young Frankenstein, as they gorged themselves on the drinks and snacks, until Dominik was yawning and starting to curl himself into the blankets more. Liv kept up with the time, worried about getting caught and the trouble that could land Dominik in, they were getting ready to start watching Jeepers Creepers when Finn sent her a text warning that they were headed back. Liv showed the message to Dom, then stood to start gathering the trash up and putting her shoes back on.

“Goodnight, Dom.” Liv offered as she gave him a quick hug - he was more asleep than awake.

“Night, Gio.” He murmured into her hair, and twisted into his pillows more. Liv was almost out the door, when Dom cleared his throat, “So, when this is over…” Dom trailed off.

“When this is over, Dominik Mysterio, I’ll be waiting on you.” Liv promised, as she kissed his head, and made sure he was tucked in to his hotel bed, “No matter how long that takes, because you’ll need someone who survived it, and personally I want to be the one who mends you're heart.” He smiled softly at her as his eyes fluttered closed, “Good night, sweetheart.” She ducked down to kiss his forehead, “I’m only a call away, ok?”

“Thank you, baby.” Dominik whispered before sleep over took him. 

-/-

“Holy shit you are insane!” Charlotte snickered as Liv told her, Becky and Bayley about the hotel.

“I told you she was!” Bayley countered.

“I don’t know, seems kind of romantic to me.” Becky offered.

Seth who only caught the end of their conversation frowned, “Anyone know why Dominik looks like he’s the happiest four year old alive, also what was kind of romantic?”  The four women burst out in laughter, but Liv maybe the loudest - she could be a good girl and wait, she had nothing but time and even when Rhea grated on her patience in the coming months, she’d just remind herself that Dom and her hand plans, plans for after the Judgment Day.

[imagine-a-life-like-this]

Always Him : Chapter 29

Word Count : 1.2k

Warnings : swearing, fighting, hospital, death mention, police station

          Class had just started but both Kayla and Mae ran out of their respective classes, running as fast as they could to the hospital, nothing caring how crazy they looked. Their baby was awake and they were going to see her as soon as they could.

            If it was up to them, they never would have left her side. But Jongho promised to take care of her, practically pushing both of them out the door. And when they got to her room, they could see that Jongho lived up to the promise he made them days ago.

            Holding the straw up to her mouth so she could take a drink, feeding her slowly, brushing her hair out of her face. He looked at her with a softness in his eyes that neither of them have seen before. It was as if Jongho and Y/n were in their own world, as if nothing else existed to them. Kayla and Mae gave them a couple more minutes to themselves.

            “You going to come in or are you just going to stare as us some more?” Jongho teased making Y/n laugh. God did he love her laugh. It was his favourite sound. Something he wishes he could have on repeat.

            “Sorry, you two just looked cute.” Kayla said as the two stepped inside the room. “You scared the fuck out of us, Y/n.”

            “I know.” Her voice was quiet, but everyone heard her. The three of them were too entuned to her to not hear her. “Can I have my hugs now?” Both Mae and Kayla practically threw themselves on top of her, both trying to hold their tears back. She was alive and that’s all the matters. The what ifs don’t matter anymore, not when she’s awake.

~

            “I’m sorry, could you repeat that?” Mae said causing Kayla to look over at her. Kayla could tell by the look on her face that red was the only thing Mae could see.

            “It’s a good thing you showed up when you did. Any later and she would have died.” The doctor’s mouth kept moving but Mae heard nothing. She turned around, storming out of the hospital. Kayla called after her to no avail.

            “I’m sorry. She’s protective.” Kayla told the doctor before telling him to continue, listening to every word, taking mental notes of everything. She peered into the room every so often, seeing her and Jongho smiling at each other. Jongho was holding her hand, his thumb running over her knuckles. Y/n looked so genuinely happy, her wide smile being something Kayla hadn’t seen in a long time. And she hopes it’s here to stay.

~

            People moved out of Mae’s way as she stormed through the hallways of the school. She saw no one, heard nothing. She was on a mission, red clouding her vision. Class was in session but she didn’t care; she slammed the door open and stormed right up to Hongjoong, punching him in the face with no hesitation. “She was minutes away from dying, you cunt muffin.”

            She wanted to yell at him, scream at him, but her voice was wavering as the reality slammed down on her. Hongjoong just stared up at her, holding his face where she punched him. The rest of the class was silent and unmoving, not wanting to get in the way of Mae in this moment.

            Reality hit her again and anger filled her veins once more. “I almost lost my fucking best friend because of you!” Hongjoong stood from his desk, trying to stop the attacks coming his way. The other students rushed out the door as the professor called the police, knowing better than to get in the middle.

            “Stop hitting me!” Hongjoong yelled, throwing a punch himself. It turned into a full fledged fight between the two. Mae was clearly winning, but that didn’t stop Hongjoong from trying his best.

            When the police showed up, handcuffing them both to take them into custody, the tears starting flowing down her face. “She almost died.” She whispered too quietly for anyone to hear. But Hongjoong knew. He knew it was his fault. That if Y/n didn’t wake up he would have been the one everyone blamed. He blamed himself. Why couldn’t he just love her the way she deserved? Why did he have to keep pretending that she was just a friend to him when she meant the world?

            “Mae? What the fuck is going on?” Wooyoung asked as she was escorted passed him towards the police car. When Hongjoong was escorted passed him, his face bloodied, Wooyoung knew exactly what happened. And he couldn’t help but be a little turned on seeing her in handcuffs.

~

            Kayla wasn’t surprised when she got the call to go to the police station, knowing exactly what was about to happen when Mae stormed out of the hospital. “She fought him, didn’t she?’ Y/n asked when she saw the look on Kayla’s face. Everyone else in the room looked towards Kayla, not a single person surprised by the news. It was expected, common knowledge. Mae was protective and she hated Hongjoong almost as much as she hated Jeongin.

            “Yeah. Hwa could you come to the police station with me?” Seonghwa nodded. “Wooyoung is already there working on getting Mae bailed out. You guys take care of my wife okay?” Kayla said to the others standing around the room.

            “I know you’re not going to want to, but please bail Hongjoong out.” Y/n said as Kayla and Hwa walked towards the door. The stopped in the doorway for a second, looking at Y/n who looked at them with tears in her eyes. Kayla nodded.

            “Anything for you.” She said before they left. Even after everything he did, Y/n still loved him. The love she had was unwavering, unconditional, and Hongjoong would never know. He’s too blind to realize that Y/n is the only one who would ever love him like this, flaws, and all.

~

            “Leave him to fucking learn his lesson.” Mae said when she realized what Kayla and Seonghwa were doing. Wooyoung had his arms wrapped around her, pressing soft kisses to her skin here and there. He wanted to remind her he was there, that he loved her.

            “We have a special request from Y/n to bail him out even though we don’t want to.” Kayla said. Seonghwa glared over to Hongjoong, silently asking him if he heard what Kayla said. Hongjoong was prepared to stay until they released him the next day, but of course Y/n would be the one to save him, even if indirectly.

            Part of him wishes she wouldn’t love him this much. He’s done nothing but hurt her, selfishly keeping her when he knew she deserved more than he could give her. Yet the other part of him couldn’t help but feel happy. His heart swelled and his eyes filled with tears. Even after everything is said and done, she still loves him.

back to masterlist

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[aajjks]

mommy issues!JK

“oh! u-uh…” you’re so flustered after eunwoo’s antics. you can’t remember the last time you were around people so genuine like this. despite the chaos that transpired not too long ago, everyone’s laughing, smiling, and celebrating all of the good things happening in their lives. these are the kind of people you wish you grew up with but you’re thankful to have met them now.

when jungkook goes to hold your hand, you don’t resist him. after all, you gave him the green light to display his affection towards you. you thread your fingers with jungkook’s and the couple across you immediately notice.

“she deserves it. nobody messes with the people i care about and get away with it. besides my classroom being in ruins and my job being on the line, my life’s been okay. as for us” you lift up your hand and show that you’re all in. no more 20/80, 75/25, you’re 100% invested in your relationship with jungkook.

“aaaahhhhh!!! i’m so happy for you!! i knew everything would work out. you two are so cute together” coos alina. “but what do you mean ‘on the line?’ did that bitch get you fired?”

you sigh. “yeah. i’m pretty sure ae-cha is gonna fire me. the only reason i wrecked her car was because she wrecked my classroom and exposed my relationship with jungkook! i mean, i would’ve wrecked it regardless but really? my place of business?”

“that’s so low of her. why don’t you come work with us? you can be close with your man~”

“well—,”

“so we can hear them ‘mess around’ in his office? no thanks” interrupts eunwoo and alina immediately swats his arm.

“shut up, eunwoo. you’re so embarrassing”

“i’m only telling the truth. ouch! stop hitting me”

you can’t help but laugh at the couple in front of you. they’re so cute together and you can tell they’re still madly in love. while you’re talking to alina, jungkook can’t help but admire you.

your pretty face, lips, beauty marks, everything. you’re just so beautiful to him.

“look at him. my brother is head over heels for you. you haven’t even hit it yet and you’re already hypnotized”

“CHA EUNWOO!!!”

you hide your face in your hands while jungkook and eunwoo go at it. “is he always like this?” you ask alina who’s shaking her head in shame.

“girl, 24/7. i don’t know how i’m still married to this man”

“oh, i know why~” smirks eunwoo which has you and jungkook laughing.

“i swear, if i wasn’t five months pregnant i’d kick your ass”

“love you too, alina. i love you too”

~🫧

It’s so fun, oh Jungkook wants to jump up and down, you make HIM SO HAPPY HE WANTS TO SCREAM.

He’s having a great time with you and his friends, but mostly it’s because now you’re not shy or uncomfortable with his advances which is the best thing about today honestly.

Losing his job? Means nothing. What really matters to him is his relationship with you and his precious son

And once you’re ready to tell Seol about your relationship, Jungkook knows that his son is going to be so happy to constantly have you in his life a lot more now.

Everything is going right and he is so grateful to God. It’s been two hours since you guys got here and now the couple are almost about to leave.

“Yn I had to invite you to the baby shower.. I know it’s just five months right now, but I’d like to be a little ahead so. Remember the date. Next month. And you will be there.” Alina and Eunwoo get up.

“Oh and Jungkook we will be having a boys night and all of our college friends are gonna be there…” eunwoo winks. Alina adds on. “Oh yeah yn it’s gonna be really fun. These guys could hang out together and us girls will have a fantastic time together… together with the children.” She thinks for a moment.

Eunwoo and Jungkook hug it out, Honestly, their Bromance is so cute to witness. “Get laid soon.” Eunwoo says, slipping something into jungkooks back pocket.

Of course, he knows what it is. “Since you forget to use one.” He pats jungkooks back, and Jungkook feels so hot once again.

But he’s not wrong either because jungkook is so hypnotized by you.. he doesn’t even feel the need to be intimate with you right away because there’s so much more to you than just sex appeal.

as the couple of finally make their exit, you and Jungkook are all alone in the restaurant, and that’s when he asks you.

“So yn… what would you like to do? You can see I’m all yours for a few days until I find a new job.” Jungkook asks you.

Anything you want he will make it happen.

You both start to flirt with each other blushing, looking at each with something so close to love not aware of the storm that is about to hit.

But maybe jungkook has an idea because he feels his phone going off with texts in his pocket. The vibration is so insane.

[iguessitsjustme]

Be My Favorite - Episode 6 Thoughts

I really do watch this show on my own time. But this time I was actually busy when it aired and I have a tiny bit of time now. I’ll probably get interrupted but I miss Max so it’s time. (I did get interrupted..I started watching this yesterday but I can say that I'm enjoying this show more than I thought I would.)

-I don’t think I’ve ever mentioned but the purple colors at the very beginning when the blurb is being said are gorgeous and I love them. 

-Still in love with this opening song. It’s catchy in the exact right way for me. I love listening to upbeat songs in Thai. It fits the language so well. Like the syncopation that we get from when they’re using consonants fits with the beat of the drums and the vowels fit with the rest of the instrumentals. That’s the best way I have to explain it and even then I feel like I’m not doing a great job of articulating why I love it so much.

-I do love how much Kawi loves his dad. 

-Max and Kawi being friends is everything I needed. I love this friendship. I very much wish they were the couple instead of Pisaeng and Kawi. 

-I love Pear. She’s just great. She better get a happy ending in this show. 

-Pear deserves better than this. 

-Max. You are too smart for all of the nonsense going on around you. 

-An apology? From Kawi? Way to go. I’m proud of him.

-You tell him Pisaeng. Since when does asking for help suck? It’s actually glorious and wonderful. People should do it more actually.

-Ew. Why much I see Not every episode? I’d be fine with him just never showing up again. 

-I will say that I am JUST like Kawi when I’m drunk. Like this is uncanny. Well minus the self doubt and negative self perceptions. 

-This drunk kiss is not going to end well is it. 

-Oh look he’s sleeping now and if that ain’t just like drunk me. Goddamn it.

-Pisaeng’s mother is something.

-I swear to god if Pear ends up with Not, I’ll be throwing hands.

-Where the fuck is Not coming from here? What indicator has Kawi given him to show that he might not be straight. Regardless if that’s the case or not, where the hell did he get that from? Also how the fuck is it ANY of his business? I know he’s using this to hit on Pear and seriously fuck him straight to hell. 

-Love Pear’s response here. Love her. I swear to god she better get a good ending. Please let her date her friend. Please. 

-Will Pisaeng believe Kawi is from the future? I genuinely don’t think I care. I care about Pisaeng and Pear and Max but I don’t care about the time travel at all. Not one bit. I actually think this show would be better without it. 

-I don’t know how to feel about Kawi. He read so straight every episode and this episode felt…unearned. If Kawi is going to have an awakening or a crisis or just learn more about himself, I want to actually see it. I don’t want a 180 from straight guy turning down his gay friend to now he’s drunkenly making out with his gay friend because he’s nice? Give me something to work with. 

[sir-yeehaw-paws]

back in your ask box!!! i watched your final thoughts for yakuza 1 video (well done on being able to stand some of the glitches like god) and i was wondering if you had any more that you forgot to say or didn’t think of in the moment? i just really love hearing people’s final thoughts on game or other piece of media

That video ended up getting WAY sappier than I expected in the end but I seriously should've seen it coming TBH. I'm a sappy person at heart and anyway let's not get too sidetracked.

So I will say I definitely forgot to mention the camera. Having no control over the camera does mess with me quite a bit. Because Kiryu will turn around and you'll notice in the videos I uploaded of fights-he sometimes just stops hitting enemies. They're gone. Lots of times enemies would get stuck behind wall and other objects. I was also constantly checking the map in the menu itself, because I kept getting directions mixed up.

Not a game breaker, does make for some intense awkwardness. (Some of it's my own fault, I am hardly the gaming champion around here ahaha)

Combat got repetitive. My own fault because as I said in the video, I didn't finish Komaki's training thanks to the input issue. I had other skills I developed too, but I wasn't ever remembering to pull it off. So I didn't vary it to the degree I could've.

At the ending, I was going to finish the hostesses but I messed myself up there because you have Haruka permanently in the endgame. And her bond with Kiryu decreases if he goes to those places (it dropped when I bought weapons at Beam) and I feel bad making her sad so that was my own issue.

There is one place where the original game is better than Kiwami that is..going to probably be a 'hot take' but-not having Majima ambush you every twenty seconds makes for a less stressful game experience overall. You can get from point A to point B with only the standard street goons (which are VERY persistent you can barely get around the block without at least two ambushes: and they have bigger enemies that are in larger groups) but those fights are fairly quick, and pay well!

Majima, meanwhile, can seriously drag out. It's not as bad in the beginning but you'll come up to the end of Kiwami like "please..just one break..I do not have any more healing items."

For RGG'S first game out of the gate, it's good. I enjoyed it more than I expected too. It's all the same elements I love with Yakuza (as I had sapped about in the video) and the characters are recognizable, even in this rougher around the edges stage.

The dub itself is a strange point. As I said, again in the video, I've done some digging on it. The localization is considered decent, (apparently 'hit some balls' is translated as accurately as it could be) but that excessive swearing really shoves it into the 'trying to hard B movie' stuff. HOWEVER.

It has a GOOD cast and there's times where it's done really well. I don't have the kind of professional experience to claim someone is 'phoning in a performance'. I can't make that call. Not all line deliveries are very good, and there's some odd changes between how characters talk from beginning to end. There was one point near the end where Kiryu delivered a couple lines and sounded like a completely different person?? It was odd.

Directing is where it really shows. I feel like with the voices behind it, and the localization team, had it been given better directing, it would've been a bit I guess. stronger? I feel it's important to keep in mind too with it being the first game (and RGG wasn't some triple A studio back in the day either) they did pretty good.

;)

The games good! It's fun, it's recognizable. and I honestly think that if I had gone into Yakuza with this as my first game, I'd still be here. I got into Yakuza via Yakuza 0 and have since gone through the entire series. It's very important and special to me and I genuinely enjoyed Yakuza 1 more than I expected.

I didn't anticipate hating it, of course. But I was still a little surprised regardless since it is so infamous in the fandom. My only regret is that unless you own a PS2 or a really good emulator, so many people can't play it. Which is a shame overall. That's not unique to this and Kiwami, the remake is out there and known. But still. Sometimes I get a little sad about how hard game preservation has gotten.

[222hopelessromantic444]

I hope this night never ends pt.1

Rodrick x y/n fluff

_________________

I swear- get some headphones and listen to the song extasy by 187 strassenbande- while listening to this song this idea plopped into my mind, I usually don't listen to that typa music but it's somehow a banger?

(btw in this fic y/n is german- just cuz this song is german, so it's actually not that important for the plot, but I still really wanted to include this specific song hehe)

______________________

It all started with an invitation to a party from one of your classmates. Being the 'new girl' at Crossland High School wasn't easy at all. But luckily, you had made friends over the past month and were more than glad to finally be able to sit with people during the lunch break, rather than sitting all alone.

So, when the invitation made its way into your hands, you were more or less excited to go. Even if the party sucks, what do you have to lose? You haven't even built a school reputation yet and could just leave at any given moment if you felt uncomfortable. A win-win situation.

Even your parents were comfortable letting you go and "make new friends." Furthermore, they even encouraged it by driving you there. Not sure if your dad's old Nissan approaching the Heffley's mansion was a good thing, you went through your small purse one last time before waving goodbye to your dad and making your way up to the porch.

The loud music could easily be heard from two blocks away, and the heavy smell of weed and liquor didn't surprise you. Entering the house, you were greeted by dozens of teenagers dancing, making out, drinking, or secretly throwing up in one of the few plant vases in the living room.

"Heyyy y/n, we're over here, babe," Brittany, one of your few new friends, waved at you. She clearly wasn't sober anymore, according to the four red cups decently stacked in her right hand.

Making your way through the sea of teenagers, your heart skipped a beat as you accidentally tripped over God knows what and started falling face first to the ground. Luckily, just before you hit the ground, two strong arms pulled you back up to your feet. You were met with two brown eyes carefully eyeing you up and down.

"You're the new girl, right?" the stranger asked you, now locking eyes with you. "Yeah," was all you could manage to say, still in shock. "Well, I'm Rodrick, Rodrick Heffley. I guess I've seen you in the hallways a couple of times. And how's the hellhole of a school?" he questioned. He genuinely seemed interested in you, as you had seen him walk past you in school a couple of times, his eyes never leaving you.

"It's alright, I guess. I've seen worse, and besides, I'm already kinda getting used to it."

"Good to hear- y/n, right? Did you know I'm part of a band? You could come see us play sometime." The amount of confidence within his randomness and his smug smirk made you giggle. You already knew he must be in some kind of band or gang since he was practically only wearing his 'loaded diaper' tee, and his van was hard to overlook.

"Sure thing, Rodrick," you smirked back, playing it cool. Even though he was pretty handsome and his eyeliner really spoke to you, you wouldn't let him win you over that easily. "Sorry, but I think I've gotta go now. My friends are waiting. See you around." Without waiting for an answer, you stormed over to Brittany, now with her fifth cup of liquor in hand.

After she handed you her half-empty cup, she greeted you with a 'don't tell me you've fallen for the weird kid' look. Not giving you a second glance, she made her way to one of the empty rooms with some random guy, leaving you alone again.

She was really a loyal friend you could count on at all times. (Hope you get the joke.) Not even ten seconds later, the tall boy with the messed-up hair from earlier reappeared and smoothly placed himself next to you...

[pnkstarz]

desire

summary: you and your boyfriend fez have always been a very intimate, soft and gentle couple until one day you decide take a shower together and witness’s whole other side of him.

warnings: shower sex,swearing, oral receiving, unprotected sex, breeding.

paring: fezco!euphoria x female!reader

fez has always been such a genuine nice person, towards me and towards the other people around him. when me and fez stared dating he immediately developed this mindset that he had to protect me no matter what and to keep our relationship far away from his private life, i’m guessing he didn’t want to scare me away which is why he’s so nice to me. i don’t really know how he acts with other people but with me he’s really soft and gentle, he’s either complementing me 24/7 or holding me whispering sweet nothings in my ear.

even when we’re fucking he’s still so gentle with me, telling me how good i’m doing and constantly praising me. but today something was a little off about him, he was more affectionate than usual, he can’t seem to keep his hands off me. i mean it’s kinda normal he’s usually touching me in some way shape or form but it’s like he can’t go a second without grabbing my hips gently pulling me closer towards him, or placing soft pecks on my neck or squeezing my ass him not caring if anyone sees. not that i’m complaining or anything, i love when’s he’s all over me like this, it drives me crazy in the best way.

the day finally coming to an end fez sending ash to run the convenient store before it closes. looking over at my boyfriend comfortable on the love seat, him gesturing me to come sit on his lap. “c’mere baby “ he say’s lowly, his husky voice sending shivers down my spine. i smile softly before straddling him. “yea baby?” i ask watching him closely. he looks up at me smirking with no reply, placing tiny kisses and love bites on my collar bone, earning a small whimper from me “what’s gotten into you” i ask blushing slightly. he looks up at me, pure desire in his eyes. he smirks going back to placing soft kisses on my collar bone, ignoring my question.”let’s go take a shower” he mumbles lowly in my neck feeling his smirk grow larger.

“together?” i ask curiously very intrigued by the idea.”yea ma” he whispers, his hands slowly making there way up my back. swallowing quietly i smile rapping my arms around his neck, “let’s go” i reply nervously, watching his cheeks slowly grow red. he pulls me into a kiss lifting me up like it’s nothing, now leading me to the bathroom not breaking the kiss. as we enter the bathroom he sits me on the sink his hands travelling under my shirt unhooking my bra, instantly tossing it somewhere in the bathroom. he finally breaks the kiss to start the shower giving me time to catch my breath.

he watches me closely as i remove my clothing starting with my top, my bottoms disappearing almost instantly.watching nervously as fez walks closer towards me placing another wet kiss on my lips,”your so beautiful” he smiles his hand rubbing up my thigh. already dripping from that simple action, he helps off the sink, me now stepping into the shower, “you coming?” i ask smiling, peeking through the shower curtain. he lets out a small chuckle, “i’m coming ma” he reply’s smirking, eventually removing his shirt.

standing in the shower the warm water hitting my skin, closing my eyes at the soothing feeling. finally feeling fez’s rough hands grip my waist, my tense figure soon relaxing at his touch. a soft gasp escaping my lips as i feel his hand reach over my shoulder grabbing my neck, placing kisses from my jaw down to my neck. feeling the wetness in between my legs slowly increase as i feel him grip my neck tighter, secretly loving this new dominant side of him.”god you love this,don’t you?” he questions noticing how wet i am, even in the shower. i turn around, cheeks red craving any type of friction from him. “i want you so bad i whisper now facing him, watching the water run down his chest. he smiles softly before speaking again, “im gonna fucking ruin you” he breaths against my lips, pinning me against the shower wall. a nervous smile spreading across my face.

he’s never been this intense with me.

“f-fez s-slow down” i breath out trying my best to contain my screams as his fingers thrust in and out of me at an inhuman speed, his tongue lapping around my clit slightly sucking, enjoying every whimper and squeal that escapes my lips. one leg draped over his shoulder, his firm grip on my thigh, keeping me still. throwing my head back in pleasure watching as the steam fills the shower, making it a little hard for me to see. i feel my stomach tighten, alerting me an orgasm is ahead. i grip the back of fezco’s head wanting more, slowing down his tongue and fingers watching as he slowly pulls away from me, right as i’m about to release. he smirks placing small kisses on my thigh, his hands slowly running up my wet skin, placing them on my waist, now standing up.

”why’d you stop” i whine, wanting more of him, begging him to touch me. he softly smiles, his eyes travelling down to my chest, blushing softly watching as the water runs off of me, him loving every bit of this view. fluttering my eyes shut slowly relaxing at the feeling of fez planting soft kisses down my neck towards my shoulder, “i can’t get enough of you” he mutters against my skin. now lifting my leg up in one swift movement alining hisself with my entrance. i gasp harshly feeling his tip slowly slide into me, my mouth slightly open watching as he fully enters me. a low groan escapes his mouth, our lips almost instantly connecting. he kisses me hungrily our tongues dancing against each other passionately, i rap my arms around his neck as he starts to thrust in and out of me aggressively with no warning.

i let out a loud moan, our lewd sounds echoing throughout the shower. throwing my head back in pleasure enjoying the soft grunts and groans coming from my boyfriends mouth every time he roughly snaps his hips into mine. the feeling now becoming too intense for me to handle i shut my eyes tightly my hands desperately looking for something to grasp, me now practically screaming. “fez s-slow down” i manage to say, holding back a moan. “c’mon baby you can take it” he grunts, panting heavily. “f-fuck right there” i moan loudly feeling him hit those bundle of nerves repeatedly. my breathing getting heavier i feel my stomach tighten, my eyes rolling back slowly as fez abuses my clit with his thumb. tears flood my eyes instinctively, watching as fez buries his face in my neck. one last scream escaping my lips as my nails drag across his back. “c-cumming” fez moans lowly in my ear, his hands gripping my hips tightly. his fingers dragging up my thigh and his low voice in my ear send me over my edge, finally releasing.

our breaths slow down, both of us trying to catch our breath. before pulling out of me fez pulls me into a soft kiss, his rough hand placed against my neck. “i love you” he whispers placing one last kiss on my cheek. i gasp softly watching him pull out of me. he watches in awe as his cum slowly oozes out of me, blushing harshly at the sight. he looks back up at me giving me a soft smile, “let’s wash up baby”

[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!