#but if I say anything then we're acknowledging it and maybe it's better to not acknowledge it

[spacemancharisma]

.

[louderfade]

exene talking about the state of the world. the good stuff starts at eight minutes. or you can just read the transcript complete with the usual errors that accompany robot transcribed speech (the irony of which is not lost on me). maybe it's not about transhumanism and living forever (or maybe it is who knows), but there's definitely an agenda of surveillance and control at work which is designed to keep the powerful in power. cash rules everything around me and you will own nothing etc. the future is worse.

[alwaysshallow]

hey babes, for the drabbles in the inbox post all I can think of is price with a breeding kink so upset he's "too old to give you a baby" only for him to end up with a wife pregnant with their 2nd baby

Fifth time, sixteenth test, and he's fuming. He doesn't even look at you, and you feel bad, when he's pacing back and forth around the house, deeply in his thoughts. Normally, you'd try to hug him, like the last times, but somehow, you can't do it now. There's something wrong with his mind, and you just can sense that, even if he's not telling you anything; being with him prepared you enough for moments like these. He's a captain, the head of the team, usually stressing about things himself.

"John, could you finally talk to me?" you ask after another ten minutes, when enough is enough; he suddenly turns around in your direction, like he finally acknowledges that you're here. Apologetic look on his face makes your heart break even more.

"'m sorry, missus." He's quick to sit next to you on the couch, kissing your hand a few times, with hope you're gonna forgive him for ignoring you.

It's what he usually does, and it always breaks your facade, but now you're not mad. Rather, confused, but you don't talk about it with him, when he smiles into your lips and drapes a blanket over you. You two just cuddle on the couch, watching some ridiculously old documentary about war, when he decides to pop the question.

"Why aren't you with someone younger?"

To say you are shocked, would be an understatement; completely bamboozled, you look at Price, your eyebrow cocked. "The fuck are you on?"

He sighs, as he looks down at you; it feels like he doesn't want to fight, but he genuinely asks, which makes you feel weird even more. "Simple question."

You prop yourself up a little, to take a better look at your husband. "Because I love you, and that's settled?"

"Someone younger would give you a baby," he mutters under his breath, as his eyes are on the TV again. John's implication shoots right through you, like a bullet, sharp and hurtful, but not that much for you, as for him. You're quick to sit on his lap fully, to bring his attention to you.

"It's definitely not your fault, John. It might be as well something with me, you know?" you frown, your fingers tracing his bearded jawline, as he still doesn't look at you.

"I waited too long, and now there's the consequences of it." His tone is hard, like he didn't hear your explanation before, and he continues to blame himself for it. Your heart sinks. "'m failin' you, love. If I'd meet you earlier, it would be different. Or if you'd be with someone else, maybe he would give you kids."

"None of that," you say, grabbing his face, to make him look at you. He opens his mouth to say something, but you're quick to put a finger on his lips to shush him; he already told you enough to make you want to do a monologue on him. "We're gonna have kids, even if it will take years, do you hear me, John Price?"

"Affirmative," he replies, kissing you a few times. On lips, cheeks and nose – you learned that doing it this way soothes him. Makes him less nervous than he already is. "I wouldn't blame you, if you'd want to—"

You don't even try to talk to him this time; you just kiss him, interrupting his intrusive thoughts with hope that he'll focus on something else. It's not a surprise when he takes the bait, and he's quick to pick you up in his arms, while you just giggle, knowing that he takes you to bedroom.

Three years later, he's off at deployment, when you learn that you're pregnant again, with your second child. 9 weeks, your gynecologist says, when you look at the scan, thinking how happy you are right now. Tears pricks in the corners of your eyes when you're in your car, taking deep breaths before you'll call your husband.

A lot of thoughts are going inside your head; should you tell him now? He's on the mission, probably doing important things, maybe he doesn't want to be interrupted? Yet, it is an important thing, something that he waited to hear for the longest time, having doubts if he's ever gonna be a father— and now, he's about to be a father for the second time.

"Love, are you okay?"

You blink twice, when you hear him through you phone; you don't even know when you called. "Yeah, baby. I'm okay, why?"

"Been askin' you how's your day, and you tell me nothin'. Got me worried for a second," he laughs, and for some reason, his laugh completely calms you. Before, you were a little scared to even call him, interrupt whatever he was doing.

Now? Now, you're more than excited to tell him the news, since you have time, and your firstborn is with his grandma.

"I'm okay. I promise," you reply warmly, smiling to yourself, as you take a peek at your stomach. You don't have a bump yet, but you smile nonetheless at the thought that, if everything will go well, in following months you're gonna have a bump. "Are you busy?"

"Just got back to base. Will be there for a while," he hums. "What is it, missus?"

"You should sit."

"…everything's alright, yes?"

"Yes, but you should sit. And, turn the camera on, please?"

He doesn't even question your request; in a minute, you see his face – happy and confused in the same time, while you grin the widest you possibly can. You felt joy this big back when you were just a kid, getting your Christmas gift.

And, now you're the one who delievers the gift.

"You're in the car? Thought you're gonna be home," he speaks up, and you have to hold back a laugh.

"I had to see a doctor, and—"

"—you had to see a doctor? You told me you're okay, love. Is it our little man? Baby, I'm—"

"—I'm pregnant, John." Words fall from your mouth.

"What?"

"I'm pregnant," you laugh, as you show him the ultrasound on camera, the closest you can. "Nine weeks. I'm back from my gyn, that's the doctor I needed to see."

"You're not pulling my leg, are you, love?" he asks, and when you shake your head with excitement, he laughs. He laughs so happily, and he even stands up for a few moments before sitting again. "A week, and 'm gonna be back. Is it okay?"

"A week?" you raise your eyebrow. "You're supposed to be another two weeks on the mission, and—"

"—I'd like to spend it with my wife, and my two babies, alright? A week won't harm anyone," he whispers lovingly, the corners of his eyes crinkling. "We have to talk about so many things."

And the fact you had to try so many times for the first baby, is just a faded memory.

[thefanficmonster]

Never Beating the Allegations

Colby Brock x Reader (Female)

Warnings: Swearing

Genre: FLUFF, Friends to Lovers, Idiots in Love, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: A compilation of Colby and Y/N being far too obvious with their feelings for one another for the entire world to see. Basically, a YouTube documentation spanning several channels that marks the history of this goofy relationship

"It's fucking nighttime already, dude! We're running two hours behind schedule!" Sam complains through a smile, shaking his head at Colby who's trailing behind him with bags full of snacks. "All because someone spent those two hours scouring a store!

They're currently in Canada following the filming of a couple investigations for Hell Week with Kris and Celina. As Sam said, they were supposed to be two hours along the road back home already - a very tiny portion of their roadtrip back, seeing as how they didn't get to buy plane tickets on time. So, they settled for a two day roadtrip and the adventure it would bring on.

Colby, not at all bothered by Sam's accusations, smiles at the camera, "I promised Y/N I'd bring back signature Canadian snacks for her. There is no chance in hell I go home empty-handed. She'd kill me." As if to prove he is serious about his quest, he lifts the two heavy looking bags for the camera to get a better shot of them.

Sam's smile falters, replaced by a highly offended frown, "So you're telling me we're not gonna eat any of those snack on the road?" Colby - folding with laughter, mind you - shakes his head. "Are you fucking ki-...."

* * * * *

"I'm almost done!" Y/N calls out from her spot in front of the mirror where she's been stuck for the past thirty minutes trying to even out her winged liner.

A groan comes from a far distance but is still picked up by her phone microphone and is heard by the audience of Y/N's Instagram live, "You keep saying that!"

Not ten seconds later, the door is thrown open, provoking a laugh from the girl. She lowers her hand and takes her attention away from her reflection to pay her roommate proper acknowledgement. "Give me a second, sheesh! Can't a girl make herself pretty in peace?"

Although he never enters the frame fully, the live chat is already flowing with cheers of Colby's name. Whether it was wishful thinking or an educated guess on their part is a mystery. Regardless, they're entirely correct, their suspicions confirmed when they hear his voice and see his arm come into frame, his hand cupping Y/N's chin to tilt up her face.

"You're always pretty." He says, causing her to roll her eyes. At that, he boops her nose with his pointer finger before withdrawing his arm, "You have five minutes to wrap things up."

Y/N's gaze lingers on him until he's out of sight. She shakes her head and catches the camera's eye in the mirror reflection, "The audacity on that man. Tsk

* * * * *

@_y/n_dragonfly Fuck Valentine's Day @_colbybrock

Needless to say, the comments went wild, running with this post on Y/N's Instagram as unofficial proof of the ship the fandom seems to hold so near and dear to their hearts.

Hope dies last, after all. Maybe one day their ship might set-sail.

* * * * *

"Ok, so, update..." Colby chuckles, looking away from the camera he's currently holding blogging style to make sure he doesn't trip on anything, "We were supposed to go grab food before starting the investigation, but then...." He flips the camera to show the backyard of the abandoned house they'll be exploring tonight, "Y/N found a trampoline in the backyard."

As the camera focuses, both Sam and Y/N come into clear view - the former laughing at the latter who's too busy to care. She's too occupied having the time of her life on this raggedy looking trampoline, reveling in childlike joy as she hops around.

Colby sets the camera on the tripod Sam had left nearby, wanting to capture this wholesome moment, even if it didn't make it into the final cut of the video. Though he doesn't see why it wouldn't.

After adjusting the camera, he turns to find Sam has joined Y/N on the trampoline, far more hesitant than she is, though.

"You guys are ridiculous." He remarks as he approaches them, shaking his head with a bright smile on his face.

Y/N lands on her knees so she can be at least halfway at eye-level with her friend, offering him a beckoning hand, "Come be ridiculous too. Don't be a bore."

Colby scoffs and rolls his eyes. Still, he accepts her hand but instead of using it for support to climb up to join his friends on the trampoline, he tugs on it. Y/N lets out a little yelp as she's enveloped in his arms. Her legs instinctively wrap around his waist, unwilling to have a rather unpleasant encounter with the ground.

"Colby! Put me down!!" Put her down he most certainly doesn't, instead opting to spin her while securely holding her in his arms, eliciting mock terror-filled screams from her.

Eventually, he does get persuaded into joining her and Sam on the trampoline.

And the whole fiasco eventually makes it into the final cut and onto the internet.

And, inevitably, in edits.

* * * * *

It's an innocent, wholesome TikTok they filmed in the garden of the Conjuring house. Yes, the Conjuring house, no biggie.

Sam is the cameraman who much to his relief didn't even need to orchestrate anything. He just pressed the record button on his phone to capture the tomfoolery going on. The lighting is perfect, provided by the few remaining rays of sunlight before dark befell them. A little lighthearted fun was more than needed before they'd have to go back in the house to chat with spirits for the night.

The video captures Y/N in her natural element - dancing goofily with the pair of headphones they use for the Estes method on her head. The caption under the video reads: 'When the spirits drop a sick beat' and is quite the perfect depiction of the trio's dynamic.

Sam documenting the chaos. Y/N being the chaos. And Colby observing her chaos with heart-eyes from the sidelines.

Although Sam hadn't originally noticed his best friend's awed gaze accidentally captured in the video, the fans most definitely noticed. And, as per usual, they ran with it.

*sigh* These two are never beating the allegations.

@benbarnesprettygurl @jessy-shine @mushycore @richardsamboramylove55 @smuttiest-smuttt @honey-bees-13 @rei-ito

[ghostboneswrites2]

Easy Street || One Shot

New account! @ghostbones was banned! Transferring all my work here slowly!

Anon request from my old account: "can you write something about reader being daryls girlfriend and negan takes an interest towards her (like with olivia) and takes her with him maybe she becomes one of negans wife and he kisses her infront of daryl but both of them know they cant do anything shortly after they escape together…"

Summary: Negan taunts Daryl with you in some cruel ways.

18+ MDNI || WARNINGS: You're forced to be with Negan, so, there's that.., profanity psychological torture, TWD typical physical abuse/violence, but you do get a happy ending :)

        Every time he touched you, you cringed. He'd go to plant a kiss on you, you turned away. His hands were inescapable, as were his words. 

        "You're mine now, sweetheart." He'd say in your ear. Your chest would feel hot and tight, as if at any moment you'd simply explode. But you couldn't fight back, you couldn't swear or cry. No, that would only hurt the other man, the one you truly loved. The one you wanted to be with. The one who was being held in a cell probably descending into insanity with that god awful song playing on repeat. Sometimes at night, when The Sanctuary was quiet enough, you could hear it playing ever so faintly. That was when you'd cry. When you were around no one else and it was safe.

        You'd often think back to those sweet, tender moments you had with him.

        "Quit lookin' at me like that." He'd say.

        "Like what?" You'd giggle.

        "That."

        The other wives would tell you all the time that it wasn't worth it to think anymore, not about the past. You were his now, and his alone. There was no escape, no hope for return, only him, only Negan. They told you to just enjoy it, that you had it better than anyone else in The Sanctuary, or anyone in the communities they exploited.

        That wasn't an option for you, though. You needed that hope, those sparking glimpses of what you had, or everything would just be dark.

        "Hey there." Negan grinned from behind you, where you had been leaning your forearms on the counter, head hanging low. Your hair cascaded around you, a messy curtain shielding you from the room around you. "What do ya say we.. Go out?"

        You turned your head a little, not turning to face him but enough to acknowledge him.

        "Yeah, like, a date!" He chuckled enthusiastically. 

        "A date." You scoffed.

        "Well, that's what husbands and wives do, right?"

        "Yeah." You said lowly, voice laced with sorrow and defeat.

        It irked him the way he could give you the best life out of anyone you or he knew, aside from his other wives, but somehow you still managed to take it for granted. He had a plan, though, that he was sure would scare you into obedience. He wanted to treat you well, as he did all the wives, but his sympathy only went so far. What he wanted above all else was submission. He could never love you or anyone the way he loved Lucille, and since he could never get her back, he'd simply collect the pretty girls he came across like trophies.

        "Well, what the fuck are we waitin' for, my beloved?" He chuckled, sarcasm oozing from his tongue. "Let's get movin'! Got somethin' real special planned for you."

        Your heart sank a little. He was a charismatic man, but he only showed this much excitement when he expected to bring misery on someone else.

----

        "We're on easy street         And it feels so sweet"

        "Now this, darlin', I think you'll really like." Negan said with that shit eating grin that dug under your skin and made your stomach churn.

        "'Cause the world is 'bout a treat         When you're on easy street"

        He never took his eyes off of you as he gleefully reached for the thick metal door and pulled it open. Darkness leaked out. It felt like the shadows were slithering across the floor and reaching for your feat, ready to wrap around your ankles and tug you in.

        "And we're breaking out the good champagne         We're sitting pretty on the gravy train"

        "Well, go on. After you." He urged you, holding his hand out and stepping to the side like the doorman at a fancy hotel. You swallowed a dry gulp and sucked in a breath of bravery. Had you not been good enough? Was it your turn to be in a cell?

        "And when we sing every sweet refrain repeats         Right here on easy street"

        You stepped slowly, one foot after the other, closing your fists and digging your nails into your palms in hopes the pain would wake you from this nightmare. When you walked in, Negan stepped in behind you. Your eyes didn't adjust well.

        "Well, come on tough guy. Don't be shy." He said into the darkness. It took a while but a shadowy mass seemed to rise in the corner. As it drew closer to you and the light trickled in over its face you gasped.

        "Daryl." You covered your mouth. Your eyes watered at the sight of him. His skin was caked in sweat and dirt but not enough to cover the bruises and cuts that littered his face and circled around his eyes.

        He looked so miserable. Your chest ached more than it had the entire time you had been there.

        You went to step forward and embrace him but Negan wrapped an arm over your chest and pulled your back into him. 

        "Aht-aht-aht... Don't forget. You're mine now." He whispered in your ear, just loud enough for Daryl to hear. Daryl stepped forward but Negan held his bat out against his chest. "I wouldn't do that." He taunted. "Anyways, I didn't bring her all the way over here just to check out your studio suite. Come on, let's all go for a little walk, shall we?"

        Negan walked with his hand around your arm, keeping you close to him and distant from Daryl who trailed behind the two of you. He took you out to an empty courtyard where a small table was set with some wine and a meal on each side. Two chairs were pulled out for you and Negan and his men stood against the surrounding walls to intervene if Daryl acted up.

        "Have a seat." He told you as he set you in one of the chairs. "You," he looked to Daryl, pointing at him with Lucille. "Stand right there."

        Negan took the seat across from you and admired the setup before him. 

        "My, my. Isn't this nice, darlin'?" He asked you. You were at a loss for words. You just sat across from him uncomfortably. "Don't be rude." He snapped.

        You nodded. "It's nice." You croaked. All you wanted to do was cry.

        "Good. Now, dig in. Don't let my hard work go to waste." He ordered. You glanced over at Daryl. "Don't look at him."

        You pulled in a breath and it came back out shakily. You slowly reached for the silverware and began picking at the food, taking tiny bites. You felt nauseated.

        "Now, is this a date, or is this a date?" Negan chuckled, a mouth full of food. Food that was taken from your people, food that they starved to give him.

        You didn't respond. You couldn't. His silverware clanked as he dropped it on his plate. A frustrated sigh escaped him -- or rather -- he pushed a sigh out to be sure you'd hear his frustration. 

        "(Y/N), dear, why don't ya come over here and sit on my lap?" He asked. You froze. Absolutely the fuck not. But, did you have a choice? "Don't keep me waiting. You don't want to keep me waiting."

        You'd never met someone who could be so happy yet so menacing. 

        You stood slowly, reluctantly approaching him at the speed of a snail, savoring every moment where he wasn't touching you.

        He pushed his chair back to make room for you and welcomed you onto his lap. You felt your body shrivel up as he ran a hand over your back and brushed your hair with his fingers. With your back turned to him you were able to sneak a glance toward Daryl. Your heart just shattered more. He looked so pained seeing you touched by another man, especially against your will. Maybe he could handle it if you decided to want someone else, maybe he could stomach that. But watching you endure psychological torture was too much to bare.

        "Turn this way." Negan coaxed, pulling your thighs to the side to spin you. Now your body faced Daryl, but your face didn't because Negan had a gentle yet firm hold of your jaw and he was turning your face to him.

        He leaned in slowly and connected his lips with yours. You went rigid, frozen solid. You couldn't escape his kiss this time. Any resistance would have been a greenlight to his soldiers to hurt Daryl even worse.

        Daryl couldn't take anymore though. He'd be beaten to death if it meant he didn't have to see that anymore.

        "You bastard." He growled as he went to lunge forward. His reaction was expected, though. Negan's men were on him in the blink of an eye, dragging him away as he tugged and yanked, trying to free himself from their grasp.

        Negan scooted you off him and stood up. You couldn't take your eyes off of your man, your best friend, your rock. Daryl.

        "That is a tragedy." Negan shook his head, feigning disappointment, as if that wasn't exactly what he expected to happen. "Teach him." Was all he had to say for his men to initiate a brutal attack. Daryl got a few good punches in. He always put up a good fight, part of the reason Negan wanted him to surrender so bad. If he could break such a wild beast, he'd have the best addition to his army he'd ever seen.

        "No!" You shrieked. You tried to run for him but Negan grabbed you around the waist. You collapsed to the ground, desperately reaching for Daryl as the surrounding attackers got the better of him. When they had him on the ground they started kicking and didn't stop. You cringed at each painful grunt Daryl uttered as Negan dragged your sobbing frame away from the scene.

----

        Negan was gone for the day, most likely out terrorizing someone you loved back at Alexandria. Sherry, another one of Negan's stolen wives, walked up and placed a hand on your shoulder. You hadn't eaten in days, barely drank water, rarely spoke. You were torn to pieces, replaying every strike his men struck on Daryl, every sound he made, wondering if he was alive.

        Part of you hoped they'd just put him out of his misery. If there really was no hope, at least you could believe he wasn't suffering anymore.

        "Hey." She said softly. Of all the wives, you related to her the most. Dwight was her real husband, before Negan took her from him. She knew what you were feeling, at least to some extent.

        "Hey." You managed.

        "It's time." She told you. You gave her a questioning look. "Come."

        You followed her out of the home and through the Sanctuary to the building where they kept their prisoners. She brought you to his door. His door. You were sure she brought you to say goodbye, that he wouldn't be around much longer.

        "You can go now. Don't let anyone see." She said quickly before she turned and ran away.

        "Wh -- Sherry! Wait!" You called after her.

        "Just go! The door's unlocked!" She turned to you one last time before she disappeared. She needed not say more. You did wonder if it was a test, but if it was, it was a test you'd gladly fail for even a glimpse of hope.

        You tugged his door open and called his name. "Daryl?"

        He stood quickly, looking behind you for Negan or other Saviors. 

        "Just me. Come on. We have to go now." You urged. You took his hand and pulled him out of the cell, looking around for a way out.

        "C'mon." He told you, tugging you in another direction as if he knew where he was going. The sounds of Saviors echoed from somewhere. He tugged you into a room and shut the door behind him, frantically searching around. 

        "There." You whispered, pointing at a pile of clothes with his vest on top.

        He swiftly changed into his old clothes and out of the grimy white sweat suit they had made him wear before. You grabbed a jar of peanut butter and held it out to him. He dug his fingers in and ate the entire contents in just a few bites. When he finished he wiped his hands clean on his old sweats before peaked out of the door. The coast was clear, and it was time.  He tugged you along, wasting no time at all. He beat a single Savior to death with a pipe in fear he'd ruin your escape. 

        As if God was on your side that day, you two stumbled across his bike. There it was, it was either sign this was an elaborate setup or that you were really escaping together. He threw a leg over the seat and you quickly climbed on behind him. He cranked it and revved the engine. You wrapped your arms around him and held him tightly, resting your face against his back as he sped away.

        You two rode for an hour before he pulled off to the side of the road. The two of you stepped off the bike.

        "What are you doing? We have to go! They'll catch us--"

        He cut you off with his hands, gripping either side of your face and slapping his lips into yours. You let go of any anxiety you had felt and just melted into his lips. 

[apas-95]

I think a lot of the basis for anarchism's common 'How would we deal with that? Well, it simply wouldn't happen,' problem is the notion of human behaviour 'in a vacuum'.

In reality, we're not building society in a vacuum. We're building it in the real world, out of our real society. We're not imagining some scenario where a bunch of generic people appear in a forest clearing and build a town, we're planning how to improve the society we actually exist in, a society populated by our real neighbours, with all their social dependencies and baggage. Maybe, indeed, a human being in the abstract would have no reason to steal from common stockpiles, or behave antisocially, or refuse to work when able - it is vacuously true. We can't care about supposed innate human nature, all human behaviour is dependent on context and environment. You need to think through the question of 'what happens when someone does anyway?' - because the answer might not be a comfortable one. Refusing to acknowledge the hard questions and their implications doesn't make you better than those that have openly stated what difficult measures and compromises they will navigate. Most of the time, when pressed, the answer to 'what happens' from those who have attempted to ignore the question, is 'death squad', or 'nobody owes you anything'.

Necessarily, whenever we look ahead to a planned future, we also need to look at what it requires to go from here to there. Instead of just appearing, history-free in a settlement, we must make our own way there, fighting against every force that would intend to keep us where we are. We can definitively say this about our future: the organisations and institutions that will build it will have to be ones that have not only survived but also won a revolutionary civil war, against the forces of police and military technology and equipment. That immediately precludes what directions we can organise towards. We have a fixed basis: our present society; and we have now, too, a fixed direction: a fighting organisation that can survive, grow, and organise an entire society around itself. Critically, we also have a wealth of historical experience as to how such things are done - how to fight, how to win. Those are the key things - how do we, tomorrow, today if we're free, start working towards the total military defeat of our enemy, and the preservation of ourselves, in the real world? 'How will we deal with that?' is an incredibly important question to answer now, when we're not yet in a muddy hole shooting fascists and bleeding.

Fundamentally, this is not a thought experiment, this is not a ponderance on the nature of man, it is a matter of practical planning, for when our strikes are dispersed by armed force, and when our breakfast programs are assaulted by fascist thugs. Anything less can only reveal a lack of actual revolutionary aims.

[luuuuucyscorner]

𝐒𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐖𝐡𝐢𝐭𝐞- 𝐁𝐚𝐛𝐲, 𝐈'𝐦 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬

Chapter Two. Info: After class Spider finds Y/n and offers to make plans

Tags: 18+, swearing, smoking

word count: 5168

gif by me

After class ends, Spider saunters over to you with a smirk on his face. "Well, well, British-American. Care for a smoke outside?" He offers you one of his cigarettes, extending a pack towards you. His gaze doesn't leave hers, the challenge clear in his eyes. "Or do they not partake in the pleasures of nicotine across the pond?" He chuckles lightly, leaning against the school wall cooly. "It's break, after all. Might as well enjoy it, yeah?" He takes a drag from his own cigarette, waiting for your response.

Thinking it over, you take the cigarette directly from his lips and take a drag. Spider watches your lips wrap around it. smoke puffs out expertly "not too bad for my first time eh?"

Spider's eyes widen as you take the cigarette straight from his mouth, then watches in fascination as you puff away like a pro. He swallows hard, trying not to gawk at your skilled handling of the cigarette. "Bloody hell, Y/n..." he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. Your confidence and ability with the cigarette caught him off guard. "That was impressive, love." He takes the cigarette back, offering it again if you wanted another drag. "Ya know, I reckon we could show each other a thing or two." He smirks, looking you up and down appreciatively. "Maybe after classes, wanna grab a drink? Get to know each other better?" He raises an eyebrow, curiosity shining in his blue eyes.

"are you flirting with me spider? on my first day?" you say with a sparkle in your eyes.

Spider's cheeks flush a deep shade of pink, but he refuses to look away. Instead, he meets your gaze boldly, acknowledging the truth behind your words. "Might be, love," he admits softly. "Can't say I'm good at keepin' myself in check around you." He shakes his head slightly, attempting to dismiss the nervous energy buzzing between you. "So, what d'ya say? Drinks after class? Make sure ya don't fall for any more maps, yeah?" He chuckles nervously, but there was no denying the genuine interest in his tone. "Could be fun, I reckon."

you don't answer immediately, finding humor in his nervous discomfort.

Spider fidgets, his unease evident as he waits for your response. He tries not to appear too eager, but the anticipation is written all over his face. He takes another drag from his cigarette, watching you watch him. The silence stretches on uncomfortably long, making him squirm under your scrutiny. Finally, he blurts out, "Look, Leia, don't think I'm pushin' ya or anything. Just figured, since we're stuck together in that class, might as well enjoy ourselves, right?" He shrugs nonchalantly, hiding his growing anxiety. "If not drinks, maybe another time? Just let me know."

"nah Spider I'm just busting your balls, I'd love to get drinks" you giggle at his expense.

Relief floods through Spider, leaving him nearly breathless. "Cheers, love!" he exclaims, visibly relaxing now that you'd agreed. "Name your place, and I'll take care of the rest." He grins widely, almost bashful in his happiness. "Don't worry, I'll make it worth your while." Reaching into his pocket, he pulls out his phone, checking the time. "How does six work for ya? Meet me outside the local pub?" He asks, already planning out the perfect night in his head. "We'll have a blast, promise."

"umm..." you stutter embarrassed " I just moved here, i don't know 'the local pub'"

Spider's grin falters for a moment, realizing his assumption. "Shit, sorry, love," he apologizes sincerely. "Didn't mean to assume. Alright, then. Name a place - anywhere in town. I'll meet you there and show ya around." He tucks his phone back into his pocket, trying to come up with alternative plans. "We can do whatever you want, honestly. Movie? Coffee shop? Beach?" He suggests various options, hoping to accommodate your preferences. "I'm up for whatever. Just tell me whatcha fancy, Y/n."

"maybe we could go to my place? my ma will be out all night"

Surprise flickers across Spider's face, followed by a slow grin spreading wide. "Your place, huh? Now that sounds like my kinda night," he replies, trying not to seem too eager. "Sure thing, Y/n. Just give me the address, and I'll find my way there. I promise I won't break anything." He laughs lightly, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Actually, forget that. We'll have a good time, just you and me." He leans closer, whispering softly yet confidently, "And if your ma asks, I'll tell her I'm just your new Aussie friend, got it?"

"sure thing" you say giggling softly "lets get to class" your warm breath tickling his cheek and neck as you teasingly pull back.

Heat floods Spider's body at the sensation of your warm breath on his skin, causing him to swallow hard. "Right, yeah, class," he murmurs, clearing his throat roughly. His gaze lingers on your lips, desire simmering beneath his playful exterior. As you step back, he adjusts his jeans discreetly, attempting to disguise his excitement. "See ya later, Y/n. Can't wait till tonight." He gives you a playful salute before heading towards the classroom, still reeling from your closeness. A smirk remains plastered on his face throughout the remaining lessons, unable to shake the anticipation for the evening ahead.

TAGLIST @ivvees-blog

[notyourdaisybuchanan]

Rewatching The Bear 2x03 is actually crazy and feels so clarifying because like...

The ep starts with Carmy speaking at Al-Anon about fun, and how maybe he needs to have more of it. He acknowledges that fun is complicated for him because as a kid his family tended to ruin things for him, even though this was often unintentionally done. He says that he thinks if he had more amusement or enjoyment in his own life then it would be easier to provide that for other people. (Big note here that part of the purpose OF a restaurant is to provide amusement and enjoyment for people. Then add in Luca's conversation with Marcus in 2x04 about how the best food comes from being open and inspired, and spending time in the world. So Carmy having fun could theoretically make him better at his job.)

Anyway, Carmy gives that spiel at Al-Anon. Then we get a brief interlude of Syd looking at articles about recent restaurant closings and being stressed.

And then we're immediately back with Syd and Carmy cooking together in his kitchen. She fucks up a dish again, and he suggests they stop cooking and do a palate reset.

Like... this all happens within the first five minutes of the ep. This man has been musing about how he needs to have more fun.... and then he suggests spending the day eating in the city with Syd..... ergo that's his definition of fun. This is literally him making an attempt at doing something for amusement or enjoyment!! He planned this!! I fully believe he had this idea even before Sydney fucked up the dish. This man said I need to have more fun and you know what would be fun? Spending the day with my business partner eating delicious food. So he sends her home with plans to meet in an hour.

And then. AND THEN. Claire calls. First of all when she asks if he's busy, he looks at the white board and the very first thing on the To Do list is "call fridge guy" so like. lmao. I love foreshadowing. And he literally is busy!!! Not with unpleasant tasks to do but with something FUN. Something fun that he planned FOR himself.

And what is it that Claire asks him to do? Is it something fun? No. She asks him to HELP HER MOVE her mom. Like, the least fun task in the history of anything, the thing that people historically HATE being asked to help with. And he doesn't look excited about it! He looks torn. He looks...weird idk. Like ohhhh it's actually so crazy that Carmy bails on a truly fun day with Sydney in order to do a manual labor favor for Claire.

This is so ripe for analysis you simply cannot tell me it doesn't mean anything.

Carmy thinks about how he needs more fun, plans a fun day for himself, and then, when someone he tried to avoid asks him to do a not fun favor, he says yeah, I'll do that instead.

[room-surprise]

Hey! Fun question, how do you think an in-canon kabumisu confession would go? People keep portraying mithrun as blunt and straightforward about their relationship, but would he be scared to tell kabru in the chance that he'd say no and leave? Is the desire to just be in a relationship with kabru, or is the desire of not wanting to scare him off greater than that? I'm so starved on the lack of post-canon kabumisu content, they make me go crazy

As usual, I'll try not to go into TOO much detail because then I won't be motivated to write fic about it... and I AM planning to write a post-canon Kabumisu fic anon, so don't worry. I'll get there eventually :3

They make me go crazy too 😔

I think Mithrun's a complicated guy with complicated emotions. Even when he was "empty" in the dungeon he actually showed a lot of feelings - smug satisfaction, annoyance, anger, even a little bit of subtle happiness.

So while I DO think he will still be blunt in general, I also think it's a mistake to assume that means he doesn't feel things and won't have anxieties and insecurities just like any other person.

Mithrun used to be WILDLY insecure, and jealous, and paranoid. He just stopped caring about anything, but if, like the end of the manga suggests, he is going to try to START caring again, he will then start to have feelings, too.

I think Mithrun is intensely aware of his own "undesirability", that's one of the reasons he's BEEN so depressed. Most of his self-worth before the dungeon hinged on being "better" than his brother, and better than other people. Then he looses that (or maybe he was never actually better at all!), so what does he have left? And now his youth is gone too, he's middle-aged and lost his "best years" to depression. He's disabled, he's scarred, he's a bastard that nobody wants.

It's a pretty huge fall from "most eligible bachelor in the empire"!

So I think no, he won't just bluntly tell Kabru that he likes him. It will take Mithrun awhile to realize how he feels, and once he does, he'll be afraid to reach out, so he's going to do what I call "playing silly little elf games". He's going to try and flirt via writing letters and sending gifts, to hint that he likes Kabru.

Luckily for Mithrun, Kabru also knows how to play Silly Little Elf Games (he's an Olympic champion), so he picks up the signals and starts reciprocating, though he's also uncertain and worried that he's misunderstanding. Captain Mithrun couldn't be flirting with him, could he? But... what if he is?

(I will go into Kabru's feelings at a later date anon i promise.)

I think the thing that will ultimately push Mithrun to act is the fear that he'll miss his chance. Mithrun realizes Kabru is a limited time deal that he can only enjoy for the next 60-something years, and he wants every minute of that time for himself, no matter how much it will someday hurt to lose Kabru.

And he also knows that Kabru is very handsome and charming, and he can't expect Kabru to wait for Mithrun to get himself figured out. Someone else will swoop in and snatch that man up, so Mithrun has to hurry.

ALL OF THAT SAID... I think their confession is a lot less of a confession, and much more "we have both been picking up these signals of interest for months/years, and finally one of us pushes it a little bit further than we've ever pushed it before and we acknowledge the unspoken thing that has been growing between us."

Maybe it's a hand resting on someone's leg, or a gentle touch on the arm. Maybe it's leaning in so their shoulders touch. Maybe it's looking into each other's eyes a little bit longer than normal.

Probably it involves both of them admitting "Spending time with you makes me happier than anything else in the world. Whenever we're apart all I think about is when I'm going to see you again. I spend hours composing letters to you in my mind. I want us to spend our days together, no matter what shape that takes."

It's very vulnerable and scary for both of them, and I think they're both DEEPLY relieved after they finally get it out, and they don't get rejected. They know each other so well, and they're so good at reading people - they both thought that the other might feel the same way, but it's so scary to take that leap of faith and hope that they're right.

And just for the record, I think that Kabru worries about if Mithrun will be interested in sex or not, because sex is something that matters to Kabru, but what if Mithrun just doesn't have any desire for it?

And so before they get into a relationship Kabru has a long hard think about it, and decides that even if they never have sex, he wants to be in a romantic relationship with Mithrun anyway, because just being around him makes him feel happy, and understood, and like he isn't alone anymore. There's someone who sees him as he is, all the good and the bad, and says "I love you anyway."

And Kabru decides that he's willing to just jerk off for the rest of his life if that's the price of this relationship that he wants.

Luckily for Kabru, I think Mithrun does want to have sex with him, but I like to think that Kabru thinks through all the possibilities and decides that no matter what they end up doing together, being with Mithrun is worth it.

[dwyntwo]

Okay, so... as a collective fandom, we can agree that bullying Kaz is fun, yeah? There's just something about seeing the guy down at his lowest and then prodding him with a stick and going "Come on, do something."

But I'm going to stand in his corner for a bit in this post.

Something that never really sat right with me is the collective implication that Kaz isn't good enough for Inej (and never will be).

I'm totally with you: he didn't deserve Inej in the first book and maybe not even yet in the second because he didn't give her anything to work with. He didn't even visit her after she was stabbed, or show her how relieved he was when she recovered. And this is just the thing: he didn't deserve her because of his BEHAVIOUR, not because he's inherently less important or less valuable or less of a person than her.

However I've read so many post-CK fanfictions where Kaz has been working on himself, is openly communicating with her, basically kisses the ground she walks on, treats her as his equal and goes above and beyond to make her as comfortable as possible, and still everyone INCLUDING Inej (and Kaz) goes "I/she deserve/s so much better than me/him". And THAT implicates that the reason Kaz wasn't good enough for her was not his behaviour towards her, but the fact that he as a whole human being is just "not enough" and "less valuable" than her, and that viewpoint has always made me super uncomfortable, especially considering his trauma.

Now I know what you're going to say, and I absolutely agree: trauma never excuses abhorrent behaviour. But there's just something icky to me about looking at a traumatized person who has not only been making an EXTREME effort to overcome their issues, but also shown amazing results, and going "They don't deserve X", "They're less than X" etc. just because they haven't fully healed yet or might never fully heal. It gives "Traumatized people are damaged goods"-vibes, which is especially weird considering my next point: INEJ IS TRAUMATIZED TOO AND HER TRAUMA GETS IN THE WAY OF A GOOD AND LOVING RELATIONSHIP JUST AS MUCH AS HIS.

She literally admits to herself that she wears as much armor as Kaz does and was being kind of hypocritical when she told him to remove his. Inej is a flawed character (which somehow seems to be a controversial take in the fandom), and to put her on a pedestal because of how virtuous and "better" she is than Kaz takes all the nuance out of her. There are definitely some parts in the books where I felt like she was in the wrong or toeing the line, but the others never really call out her behaviour the way they do with Kaz, not even in their internal monologue, so we're left with this image of an Inej who can do no wrong and a Kaz who simply got lucky.

The fact that in aforementioned fanfictions (that I still absolutely adore btw) Inej too thinks he isn't good enough for her despite everything he does for her and for himself, and despite how far he's come also turns her acknowledgment of her own self worth into something ugly and vain in my eyes. She loves herself, but she also loves Kaz, so I don't think she, or any good partner, would look at her boyfriend who clearly already thinks very little of himself and go "Yep, this fucker isn't good enough".

So often people will look at a healthy happy couple and go "He/she could do so much better than her/him". Like that's a whole person you're putting in a competition of "Who's more worthy?" as if they were some object that is of better or worse quality.

I don't think I articulated this too well and there's a lot more to be said about this, but I hope you understand the gist of it. Post CK-Kaz who works on himself and openly communicates ABSOLUTELY deserves Inej, and I will ROT on this hill.

Now I've been nice to him for long enough I think *whacks him with a crow bar*

[mylight-png]

Hi I have a hot take after seeing too much TikTok bullshit.

Islam and Christianity are religions of appropriation.

This is something that bothered me for a while but specifically came to my attention after seeing a TikTok where someone made the joke that the Christian pride flag is just the colors of Joseph's coat, based on the musical about it.

And fine, maybe that is a little funny. But the story of Joseph and his coat isn't Christian. It was Jewish first. It's still Jewish. Fine, they believe in it too (because they originally broke off from Judaism) but to claim it's Christian like that just rubbed me the wrong way.

So so so many people claim that Prince Of Egypt is a Christian "Bible movie" except it isn't. Or at the very least, it shouldn't be. Because it isn't Christian, it's Jewish. The Christians weren't led out of Egypt by G-d's hand. It was us, the Jews.

I know I seem petty, these are just movies, just musicals, and to some they are just stories. But this removal of Judaism from originally Jewish texts feeds into a larger problem.

Why do Muslims and Christians care at all about Israel? About Jerusalem, specifically? It's because they took our Torah and made it their "old testament" and claim it is the root of their religion. They claim they have equal, if not greater at times, claim to the land they only care about because we care about it.

If these religions were not Abrahamic then they wouldn't give a crap about Moses or Israel or Joseph's coat.

Any claim that any of the stories (for lack of a better word) from the Torah are Muslim or Christian is appropriation. Sorry not sorry. They were Jewish first, are Jewish now, and will forever be Jewish.

Can people of other Abrahamic faiths believe in them? I don't give a shit, I won't tell them what to believe, it's their religion. But they have no right to claim those stories as their own. To believe them and to claim them is vastly different.

When sharing in a culture that isn't your own, it's generally acknowledged to be wrong if you say that it's now part of your culture. Because it isn't. It still belongs to the original culture you took it from.

And since they do believe in the Jewish texts and claim them as their own, they are appropriating Judaism.

Shortly after October 7th, when my mom was talking to a coworker about what was going on, her coworker lamented the safety of the sacred sites. She said nothing of my mom's family living there, even though she knew. She, as a Christian, felt more entitled to care about the "sacred sites" (sacred to them because the land was first sacred to us) than about the Jewish blood being spilled.

I've said it before, to them, Jewish blood is cheap. And this appropriation only serves to cheapen it further.

This appropriation and entitlement has been an issue throughout history. The Crusades, the taxes on Jews for not being Muslim, this repeated and continued oppression of Jews under the justification of the other two Abrahamic religions, it's because those other groups feel entitled to our heritage, because they believe they're the ones "doing it right" and say we're doing it wrong even though what they do has strayed so far from their origins that such a claim is absurd.

I do not think Christians and Muslims should convert to Judaism. We don't encourage conversion (we accept y'all, but we aren't a proselytizing religion, not meant to offend Jewish converts).

What I am saying, however, is that Muslims and Christians should back the hell off from any claim to anything within their religion that is originally Jewish. And yes, that includes their entitlement to Israel and Jerusalem, and any and all "Biblical" stories that originated in the Torah. Those aren't Muslim or Christian, they're Jewish.

Again, I don't give a shit what people believe or practice, but what I am saying is for people to start giving credit where credit is due, and to back off from claiming other people's cultures and religions as reasons for your own entitlement.

Hell, I'm not even saying that only Jews can live in Israel. Anyone can live there now and that's fine. The issue is more so when claims start that Israel is equally important to all of us, or that Jews have no claim to the land. First, you care about it only because we did, that's not equal importance. And second, whether you like it or not, Jews are from Judea. We always have been, are, and always will be indigenous to Israel.

So yeah. Back off. Believe and practice what you want, but back off of what was ours first.

...

If this gets too much hate I'll just delete it tbh. It's a hot take and I recognize that the truth isn't for everyone.

[lvrdrafts]

Guess my Lover Was A Snake

Summary : Bucky get a anonymous photo sent to him which shows you cheating on him

Bucky entered their shared apartment, his face etched with anguish. In his trembling hands, he clutched the manipulated photo that had fueled his doubts. Y/N looked up, noticing the distress in his eyes.

"Bucky, what's wrong?" Y/N asked, concern lacing their voice.

Bucky's voice was strained as he held out the photo, his voice barely above a whisper. "Explain this, Y/N. Is this not proof enough of your betrayal?"

Y/N's eyes widened as they examined the photo, their mind racing to find an explanation. "Bucky, please listen. This photo is fake. It's a setup. Someone is trying to tear us apart."

Bucky's frustration boiled over, his voice rising in anger. "Don't lie to me, Y/N! How can you expect me to believe you when everything points to your betrayal? I trusted you, and you've shattered that trust!"

Tears welled up in Y/N's eyes as they desperately tried to reason with him. "Bucky, I would never cheat on you. I love you. Can't you see? This is a malicious attempt to destroy what we have."

Bucky's voice dripped with bitterness as he lashed out, unable to control his anger. "You expect me to believe some wild story? You've always been good at playing the innocent, haven't you?"

Y/N's voice cracked as they fought back tears. "I'm not playing anything, Bucky. I'm trying to tell you the truth. I thought you knew me better than this."

Bucky's eyes narrowed, his voice filled with accusation. "Maybe I don't know you as well as I thought. Maybe there have been secrets all along."

Y/N's heart shattered, their voice trembling with hurt. "How can you say that? You were my everything, Bucky. I trusted you with all my heart, and now you're accusing me without even giving me a chance to defend myself."

Bucky's voice turned cold and dismissive. "I've heard enough. Pack your things, Y/N. I don't want to see your face anymore. We're done."

Y/N's breath hitched, tears streaming down their face as they gathered their belongings, their voice choked with emotion. "After all we've been through, after standing by you for five years, you think I would betray you? How could you believe such a lie?"

But Bucky's anger consumed him, his voice laced with bitterness and accusation. "You're a liar! Get out! I don't want you here."

In a whirlwind of pain and confusion, Y/N was pushed out with their belongings, the door slamming shut behind them. They were left alone in the darkness, their heart shattered and their love discarded.

In the quiet solitude of the empty apartment, Bucky Barnes found himself engulfed in a whirlwind of remorse and regret. The weight of his actions settled upon him, causing his heart to ache with a profound sadness. He couldn't shake off the nagging doubts that crept into his mind, questioning the validity of his own judgment.

As he glanced around the silent space, his eyes were drawn to the remnants of an unfinished meal that had been lovingly prepared by Y/N. It was a painful reminder of the affection and care they had poured into their relationship. The scent of the dish still lingered in the air, a bittersweet fragrance that tugged at Bucky's senses.

A profound pang of sorrow coursed through Bucky as he contemplated the accusations he had hurled at Y/N, fueled by anger and mistrust. He wondered if he had acted impulsively, allowing his emotions to cloud his judgment. The doubt gnawed at him, threatening to consume him entirely.

The untouched meal before him became a symbol of what he had lost—precious moments shared with someone who had stood by his side through thick and thin. Regret weighed heavily upon Bucky's heart as he acknowledged the possibility that he may have pushed away the very person who loved him unconditionally, someone who would never dream of betraying him.

With a heavy sigh that seemed to carry the weight of his remorse, Bucky approached the table, drawn to the unfinished dish like a moth to a flame. The aroma enveloped him, triggering a sense of longing and nostalgia. He couldn't deny the significance of the affectionate gesture Y/N had made in preparing his favorite meal.

A tidal wave of guilt crashed over Bucky, washing away any remnants of stubborn pride that had clouded his judgment. The truth of Y/N's innocence began to seep into his consciousness, challenging the foundation of his doubts. He wondered if he had allowed his insecurities and fears to blind him, destroying the fragile bond they had built.

Bucky picked up the phone, his hands trembling as he dialed Y/N's number, ready to admit his error and seek forgiveness. But he thought of the photo again and he knew he wasn't good enough for you so it made sense if you cheated.

[webslingingslasher]

how would frat Peter react to trouble pranking him by saying she’s had better/has seen bigger

In some ways I feel like he would know troubles lying but still be a little upset.. yknow?

PILLOW TALK IS MY FAV THING TO WRITE ABOUT THEM!!!!!!!!

peter's quiet, so quiet you slap your hand to his chest to make sure his heart is beating. he slowly brings your hand down to intertwine your fingers with his.

'check in?'

it's something you both had come up a month into hooking up, after a disastrous miscommunication and hurt feelings, when one felt like it was needed, you'd have a check in.

you turn to kiss his shoulder, 'what's on your mind, handsome?'

peter breathes deep, 'do, um, do you feel satisfied with me? like, in bed?'

you shuffle closer to him, 'permission to hug?'

he nods, 'granted.'

you rest your head on his chest and throw an arm around his waist. you hum and kiss his shoulder, 'i think you know i'm satisfied, but why the question?'

'nothing, just wondering.'

'we don't call check in's for a single question, mister.'

peter isn't normally this shy, you wonder if he's thinking about a new kink, or if he's checking in because he wants you to check in and now your mind is racing thinking he's not satisfied.

you sit up and look down at him, 'are you satisfied?'

he follows you up and nods quickly, 'yes! very satisfied, are you?'

'we're talking in circles, peter. and not that you're a selfish lover, but you've never asked that before so...' you trail and look to his nightstand, 'am i doing something wrong?'

peter cups your face to pull you to look at him, you refuse to meet his eyes for a moment, he moves his head around until he's looking right at you.

'hey, don't even go there. this is on me, not you.'

'what did i do wrong?'

'nothing! you did nothing wrong, alright? here-' peter lies down and pats his chest, 'come cuddle.'

you push on him, 'you made me feel like i did something wrong.'

he shakes his head, 'you didn't.'

you can't stop the swarming thoughts, you spin it on him.

'then check in with me.'

peter takes a deep breath and closes his eyes, his words are low, like he doesn't want to say them.

'i know you said it as a joke, but when you said you've had bigger and better it hurt me, i dunno, i just want to know i'm enough for you.'

your heart drops, you've made peter insecure. he's never made you feel insecure before, ever. if anything he's helped you overcome a few, and in return you tore him down.

'peter,' he's looking off to the side, you shake at his arm but he pretends you're not in the room. you shuffle around to straddle his waist, tracing his collarbone and doing your best to be gentle.

'hey, petey, wanna look at me?'

'no, thank you.'

his eyes close when you run your fingers through his hair, 'i'm sorry, peter. i really am, i'm sorry and i never ever meant to hurt you.'

'it's fine, you were just kidding.' it's mumbled, and you're quick to shut it down.

'it's not fine, peter. i hurt your feelings.' you pull your hand from his hair and kiss your teeth, 'i wasn't even trying to make a joke, peter. i was being sarcastic, i mean, peter, i don't know if you know this, but you have a big dick.'

at last, he acknowledges you, pushing at your thighs he turns his head further, you can still see his pink cheeks.

'i mean it, bro. biggest cock around.' you giggle when your thigh is pinched and you're mocked. 'bro.'

you tickle his ribs, laughing when he tries to squirm away.

'seriously, peter. i think you've got the biggest dick in the state, maybe even on the entire east coast.'

he groans, 'now you're just being nice.'

'maybe a little, but i mean it. and not that it should matter,' you squeeze his sides, 'but you're the biggest and best i've had.'



[theragethatisdesire]

much ado about nothing chapter 8 - plug!eren x reader - 18+!!!

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

um. hi. i am so nervous about posting this i could die, not because anything too significant happens, but it's been so long. this is not a super action-y chapter, but it's necessary, so bare with me. there's a good bit between the lines, so if anything's confusing, hit up my ask box or just hit me up to chat bc i love this story. we're getting close to the end, but i am .... sad about it. i love this eren. i love much ado. without further theatrics from me.... enjoy!!!!! <3

specific cws: swearing, mentions of drug use, alcohol, mentions of sex

want to catch up? series masterlist here<3

-

“Love is like a child, That longs for everything it can come by.” - The Two Gentlemen of Verona by William Shakespeare (Act III, Scene 1)

“It’s about time you got up! I got bagels from– oh, hey,” Historia falters when she catches sight of you and Eren, finally having made your first appearance for the day even though it’s well past 10:00.

“You again?” Ymir says with a snicker, walking past Historia with the aforementioned bagels swinging beside her legs with every step.

“Ymir!” Historia hisses, shooting you an apologetic look. Your face warms, knowing exactly what you look like right now: hair a mess, bruises covering your neck and chest, and the telltale sheen of guilt practically glowing in a halo around your head. Eren’s not much better off; there are angry red scratches down his entire back under his hoodie, and his eyes are hooded and heavy with that satisfied, I just got laid glimmer to them. He looks good like this, you think, sluggish and weighted down with the work he’d put in on your body all night and all morning. Cocky and satiated.

“Where are the bagels from?” You peek into the bag that Ymir dropped on the counter, shaking yourself out of your private admiration and sidestepping the obvious elephant in the room in favor of filling your grumbling stomach.

“That place on Melrose, but I only got three…” Historia looks sheepishly to Eren in apology.

“He’s on his way out,” you answer for him. Eren nods affirmatively, shuffling over to the doorway where his enormous sneakers are thrown alongside a small collection of yours and Historia’s shoes.

“Leaving so soon?” Ymir’s eyebrows raise in uncharacteristic interest, looking between you and Eren, who don’t seem able to truly meet each other’s eyes.

“Busy,” Eren grunts, slipping his shoes on, “I’ll see you–”

“Tuesday, right?” You say around a mouthful of bagel, still not quite meeting his gaze.

“Tuesday,” Eren looks to the sky like he’s mentally penciling you in to his schedule, nodding after a moment, “got it.”

“Merry Christmas!” You call out as he makes his exit, throwing a hand up in acknowledgement and farewell. A few heavy seconds of silence pass, the only sound in the room being the noisy smacking of the cream cheese bagel that you’re practically inhaling as Historia stares at you.

“That was…awkward,” Historia starts cautiously. You frown at her.

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve never seen two people that just fucked look less like they want to be in the same room,” Ymir says from the couch, punctuating her statement with a sharp laugh, “I mean, is it that awkward when you have sex?”

“It wasn’t awkward,” you cross your arms defensively, narrowing your eyes, “we’re just…casual.”

“Eren looked sort of tense,” Historia adds thoughtfully, a little line of worry appearing between her eyebrows.

“I’m sure his family’s been talking to him a bunch with the holidays coming up. Maybe that’s it, I wouldn’t know,” you shrug, not meeting Historia’s gaze. You can almost feel her smug, understanding nodding, seeing right through you.

“So you’re still not talking, then.”

“Of course we talk. You just watched us talk.”

“Not like you used to,” Historia counters, crossing her arms.

“So?” You scoff, letting your annoyance erupt in the form of tearing your bagel into little bite-sized pieces. Historia’s right, she’s right way too often for you to live with.

“You liked him. A lot. And he liked you. What happened?”

“You never told us,” Ymir echoes from the couch, “the last thing you told me at least was that you and Sasha went to Scout’s, Eren practically fought Floch, you slept with him for some reason after that, and the next thing we know, he’s here every morning.”

“Not every morning,” you mumble, rolling your eyes petulantly.

“That doesn’t matter,” Historia says impatiently, waving Ymir off, “it’s been weeks of…I don’t even know what to call it– this weird, awkward no-talking just-fucking thing. What happened?”

“We made up,” you shrug, staring at her blankly, “we’re fuck buddies. It’s not something that needs to be, like, picked apart and analyzed.”

“It absolutely does,” Historia argues, “you went from making goo-goo eyes at each other and staying up all night hogging the couch to what may the be the weirdest fuck-buddy relationship I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

“It’s not weird,” you groan, throwing your hands over your eyes in exasperation.

“Is it Breeze?”

“What?” you hiss, pulling your hands from your face to narrow your eyes at Ymir, “what would this have to do with her?”

“I heard she’s staying for awhile, just moved into those snazzy new apartments across from the farmer’s market.” Ymir is either unaware of or unphased by your immediate aggression. She delivers her statement matter-of-factly, twirling one of her many rings idly. Her nonchalance makes you prickle, and Historia notices.

“Is it Breeze?” Historia asks, watching your reaction carefully. “Are she and Eren talking again? Or is he with you?”

“I don’t know what Eren does in his free time,” you roll your eyes, “much less if he’s got anything going on with Breeze right now. It’s not my business.”

“Granted, I don’t see how he could even find the time to deal with Breeze with how often he’s over here,” Ymir scoffs.

“Don’t you two have packing to do?” you ask in a desperate attempt to change the conversation topic. Luckily, Ymir takes the bait.

“We finally finished,” she shoots Historia a meaningful glance, “but our flight doesn’t leave for another four hours, so we don’t need to head to the airport until noon.”

Great. Your patience has already worn thin with the both of them for the day, and just as you’re formulating a plan to bid them goodbye and drag your exhausted body into a shower, Historia jumps ahead of you with yet another question that you don’t necessarily want to answer.

“Have you heard from your mom?”

“Bits and pieces,” you answer, twiddling the hem of your t-shirt between your fingers, “she and Tom are in Costa Rica right now.”

“No invite?” Ymir questions wryly, cocking an eyebrow. Historia shoots her a reprimanding glare, but Ymir’s callous humor is exactly what you need at the moment.

“Of course not,” you say with a chuckle, shrugging, “but she sent me some sweet pictures. They’re cute together.”

“I think Tom is my favorite of the recent boyfriends,” Historia concedes with a small smile.

“He’s definitely better than that asshole from Dubai, that’s for sure.” Ymir nods affirmatively, the unspoken voice of reason in relation to your mother’s dating life.

A few minutes of idle chit chat later, you’re able to excuse yourself to shower, ducking behind the curtain and into the steaming, nonjudgmental spray of water. Your theory these days is that turning the water up to an unbearable heat may scald the weight of everything on your mind off of your shoulders. It hasn’t worked yet, but you’ll keep trying.

Christmas isn’t your favorite season by any means, not since your parents’ divorce. It’s a solitary season for you, one for contemplation and baking. You don’t not enjoy spending Christmas’ alone; after so many years, you’ve started your own little traditions, and while you know the concept of someone spending Christmas alone is objectively sad, you’ve grown to prefer your own company over that of your mother and her boyfriend of the year. She’ll send you her American Express information along with a text to “Go crazy! Anything your little heart desires!” and you’ll spend Christmas Eve playing Santa for yourself, watching movies, and stuffing your face with whatever sugary treat you decide to throw together.

Okay, maybe it is a little sad, but it’s your tradition.

Ymir and Historia leave for the airport, and unsurprisingly, Historia begs you to catch a flight to come with them because “No one should be alone on Christmas!”. You only falter when Ymir begrudgingly extends an invitation, the first year in the three you’ve known them that she’s done so. Ymir shrugs and blushes when you and Historia stare at her in disbelief, claiming it’s because you seem like you have a lot on your mind. She’s not wrong, but you wave them off to Ymir’s parents’ anyway, assuring them you’ll Facetime on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day, just to check in.

You don’t consider Historia’s offer until you’ve curled up under a blanket, the fifth or sixth mind-numbing, standard Christmas movie you’d selected not quite doing the trick of silencing your thoughts. You open your phone, pull up your recent texts; maybe reaching out to someone for some lazy, technology-driven conversation will do the trick.

First is Historia, per usual, sending you a barrage of selfies of her and Ymir’s family playing a board game. Even in your melancholy state, the sight of Ymir with her mouth stretched comically wide around a plastic game piece, scowling through her ridiculous expression, makes you snort to yourself.

Second is your mother, sending you an update about her and Tom’s dinner reservation getting canceled amidst short-staffing at the resort restaurant. You roll your eyes at that one; for your mother, the end of the world will surely present itself as a minor inconvenience at a five-star establishment.

Third is Sasha, checking in amidst the holiday season. She tells you that Hitch loved the little self-care package that she put together as a thoughtful, but casual Christmas gift. You text your congratulations back to her, feeling an unfair pang of envy hitting you.

Fourth is…oh, god, you shouldn’t have let yourself get this far. Eren. He’s still saved in your phone as “Eren 10 Shadows User Jaeger”; instead of making you giggle, his idiotic, self-placed contact name only makes a hollow thud ring through the confines of your empty chest. Feeling a bit like twisting the knife, you start scrolling through your texts, frowning at how short and unsubstantial each message is.

> Outside.

> tonight? 10ish?

> Be there in 10.

> i can venmo you for the doordash

> Don’t worry ab it.

The most painful part of all of it is, if you scroll just a bit further, back into the crisper autumn months, the messages aren’t so dry. In fact, in hindsight, Eren seems smitten with you. The messages still give you butterflies.

> Are you in your office was gonna pick up 104 otw to yours but I don’t want it to get cold.:)

> Is developing the six eyes the key to getting you to like me as much as you like Gojo?

> Just did a drop at the library and spied you w your kiddos across the room I didn’t say hey bc I didn’t want you to yell at me (bc youre rude) but you look HOT.

> Got your fav cookie dough to soften the blow for you when we start shibuya arc tonight be there in 10 nerd.

You groan and toss your phone to the other end of the couch, digging the heels of your hands into your eyes. What are you doing? Why can’t you just talk to him, tell him that he’s all you think about, that every time he touches you, you swear that it burns an imprint into your skin?

Because it’s not real, your mind helpfully supplies. Breeze. Luke. Rumors. You’re clearly not over Luke if you drunkenly texted him that night at Paradis, right? Or maybe you’re projecting your old feelings for Luke onto Eren? Is that really something you’re prepared to gamble with?

And if you weren’t mess enough, Eren’s only been the commitment type for one woman in his life; out of the many that you know have rotated in and out, your statistical chance of becoming the second is slim. Not to mention the fact that the only woman he’s ever committed to has just moved in a whopping five minutes down the road from you, and is apparently interested in re-opening doors that you had assumed were closed.

With a huff, you grab your phone from where it's nestled into the cushions and check the time. 11:04pm. Still plenty of time to run down to the bodega and scrounge around for some cookie dough, maybe a cheap bottle of wine.

That’s motivation enough to shake you out of your wallowing state, and after you’ve pulled a pair of slouchy gray sweatpants over your pj shorts and thigh-high socks, you’re shoving your feet into some slippers and shuffling down the street, arms crossed over your chest in a feeble attempt to protect yourself from the biting wind. The shock of the cold numbs you to the bone, a welcome reprieve from the watery, shaky feeling that’s been brewing in your chest all night. You storm through it, noticing your breathing get a little looser with every step, feeling very much like you could stay out here all night, leave all of your problems cooped up in your lonely little apartment.

The bodega’s a certifiable ghost town, as expected. You only have your lucky stars to thank that the owners aren’t religious and are willing to stay open this late the night before Christmas Eve. You give a weak wave to the heavyset man behind the counter, a gesture that he doesn’t return. Figures.

Luckily, with most of the students on campus having left for home days ago, the shelves and refrigerators are still mostly-stocked with everything you’ll need. Item 1: cookie dough. A pack of the Pilsbury reindeer sugar cookies should do nicely; delicious and small enough that eating the entire package won’t depress you too much. Item 2: cheap wine. You round the corner a bit too quickly in your excitement, running headfirst into a tall stranger that you didn’t notice upon entering the store.

“I’m so sorry, I wasn’t–” your voice cuts itself off as the man in question’s irritation slowly slides off of his face. A tentative murmur of your name comes through wind-chapped lips, bloodshot eyes widening in surprise.

“What are you doing here?” Eren’s brow crinkles almost comically, furrowing into a frustrated little divot between his reddened eyes as he tries to make sense of why you’re standing in front of him. “It’s Christmas Eve.”

“Technically not for another forty minutes,” you counter, checking your watch, “and I could ask you the same thing.”

“You know me, not exactly the family type.” Eren shrugs, a bit of the tension melting off of him. And he isn’t wrong; you do know. During the period of yours and Eren’s less-complicated friendship, he had divulged little bits and pieces of his home life, not enough to give you the full picture, but at least enough that you feel like an ass for not realizing why he was spending Christmas alone. Dead mother, asshole father, overbearing stepmom, try-hard brother. You can’t exactly blame him.

He looks heartbreakingly soft; wrapped in one of his classic massive hoodies, hair tucked beneath a cozy beanie, nose and cheeks kissed slightly pink from the cold winter winds. He’s clearly stoned, eyes heavy, muted, and slow-moving as he looks down at you. It’s all you can do to hold yourself back from cupping his face, breathing warmth back into him. Your fingers clutch a little tighter around the cookie dough in your hand, mimicking the swell of emotion that chokes your heart in your chest.

“Right, sorry.”

“That brings us back to square one. What are you doing here?”

The longing for closeness in your heart hasn’t quite outweighed the sadness and awkwardness of the situation, and you opt to deflect again. Unhealthy, but functional. “Buying wine.”

“And cookie dough?” Eren raises an eyebrow at your currently-occupied left hand. “Did you just get dumped by Santa?”

You narrow your eyes at him. “No. It’s my Christmas tradition.”

When Eren’s gaze softens into something thoughtful, green eyes raking painfully over your bundled-up form, you realize you’ve let your guard down. Even that simple statement has bared something to him, given him yet another piece of you to hold– maybe to drop. It sends a nervous chill over you, and you drop your eyes to the floor amidst a pregnant moment of understanding silence.

“Here.”

You flit your gaze back up to Eren’s outstretched hand. He’s holding a bottle of Pinot Grigio– your favorite kind of cheap Pinot Grigio, at that. When you dare to look up at his face, you can’t read it, no surprise there, but if you had to guess? Something like warmth, something like the beginnings of a familiarity you hadn’t realized had been growing.

When you hesitate to take it, a little too long apparently, Eren pulls the bottle back up to his face, squinting at it, and moving it further and closer from his face. With a stuttered chuckle, you realize he’s trying to read the label.

“Is this not the one? I swear I saw it in your fridge–”

“No, that’s it.” You reach up and pull the bottle from him, momentarily shaken out of your stupor. “Where are your glasses? Were you planning on stumbling around the bodega asking the clerk to read all the labels for you?”

“I left ‘em at your house forever ago,” Eren admits, a bashful hand running over the back of his neck, “keep forgetting to grab them on my way out.”

“That’s right.” Your face grows warm at the mention of Eren– the same Eren who’s in front of you, adorably bundled up and cheeks pink with embarrassment– in your home. The things Eren’s been doing in your home as of late.

More like I’m not giving you enough time to grab them, you reflect with a grimace. Eren’s presence in your life has been hot and momentary over the last weeks since your run-in at Scout’s; you’ve made a habit of not keeping him around long enough for conversation, pleasantries, even so much as nabbing those readers out of your nightstand. Even after this short interaction, a vicious stroke of memory reminds you why you’ve kept your distance– Eren’s charming. He’s thoughtful, he’s kind, he’s funny, he’s so careful with you sometimes it makes your fingers shake. And now, with him beginning to turn away from you, giving you a sad and half-hearted goodbye and preparing himself to check out with whatever meager snacks he’s gathered, you don’t think you can keep observing your emotional vigil anymore.

The first flutters of snow have begun to coat the ground and there’s a cold, Christmas wind rattling at the shop windows and you’re holding the bottle of wine to your chest so hard you might be bruising your ribs when you decide to take a chance on him.

“Eren!”

He turns on his heel slowly, as if he’s about to raise his hands and call a truce. His eyes betray nothing but confusion, but if you squint, if you let yourself believe just a bit…you want to believe that he looks a little hopeful.

“Do you…do you want to come over?”

“Right now?” Eren cocks his head in disbelief. It crushes you a little how far out of the realm of possibility it’s become for you to just…want to spend time with him. The blow to your ego and his lack of immediate response nearly bring your newfound courage to its knees, but you push on.

“I can’t eat all of these by myself,” you lie, “and I have better food than that in my pantry.”

Eren eyes the two bags of chips he’s holding in one hand, looks back at you almost like he’s waiting for the punchline. You do your best to smile in a friendly, I-totally-won’t-cry-later-if-you-say-no type of way and snatch another bottle of wine off the shelf.

“I think they’re two-for-one anyway,” you say with an airy chuckle, “no one needs to be alone on Christmas.”

A shaky smile shatters Eren’s hesitant expression, and he cocks an eyebrow, raises his hooded eyes to the sky like he’s thinking it over. “Uh…yeah, I guess I have room in my schedule to keep you company.”

“Oh, get over yourself,” you scoff, the relief viscerally warming you from your growing smile to your fingertips, “and you’re buying after that one.”

“Some fucked up plan you got there,” Eren chuckles to himself, placing your wine and snacks on the counter, “tracking your fuck buddy down at the bodega and guilting him into buying you wine and snacks.”

“Eren,” you hiss, smacking him in retribution, masking the burn of his choice of words with embarrassment. It’s true, you’ve both wordlessly agreed upon it, but the reminder stings. You shoot an apologetic look to the clerk, but he’s entirely apathetic, reciting the total to Eren in a monotone voice. Your unnecessary chagrin only makes Eren giggle harder, earning him an eye roll from you.

The short walk back to your car is filled with some intentional tightrope walking between unnecessary etiquette (Eren insisting upon walking with you to your apartment, saying he’ll grab his car later; you pulling your Venmo app up, trying to assure him that making him pay was a joke) and the banter that you’d established between yourselves upon first meeting, the easy conversation you used to enjoy whenever you liked. Even as you both lull into that familiar rhythm of jokes, stomping through the light dusting of snow side-by-side, you can feel the precariousness of it all. Who’s going to be the first to decide that you’re too close? Who’s going to run away? Who’s going to wish they had run after them?

“Smells nice in here,” Eren remarks, bending down to tug at the laces of his heavy Docs once he’s made it past the threshold of your door.

“It’s about to smell even better.” Suddenly overcome with nervous jitters that Eren’s in your apartment with no part of his mouth on you, you scurry over to the oven to begin preheating it, urgently in need of something to do with your hands.

“Where’s ‘Stor?” Eren ambles along behind you, seemingly far more at ease than you judging by the way he slouches against the counter.

“Ymir’s parents have them come up that way every year.”

“You didn’t want to go?”

“It’s their thing.” You try to disguise the sudden tightness in your voice with a tinny note of disbelief, as if Eren should have inherently known that you elected this lonely Christmas celebration. “Hand me a baking sheet?”

“Where?”

“Down there.”

Your intonation must have carried the desired effect because Eren doesn’t press the matter further, following your instructions and producing a rectangular pan from one of the lower cabinets of your kitchen. You work wordlessly and in tandem with one another. Eren produces two wine glasses when he sees you scrounging around in the drawer for a corkscrew; he begins to scoop healthy dollops of cookie dough from the package with the spoon you hand him as you pour two not-so-healthy glasses of wine for you both. The silence is interrupted by Eren’s poorly-muffled snickers when he watches you take your first sip of wine.

“What?”

“Am I that bad?” Eren directs a playful, but meaningful, glance at your wine glass, a fourth of which you’ve just knocked back in one sip. You feel your cheeks warming, and you stick your tongue out at him.

“Has nothing to do with you. Just…thirsty.”

"Is it awkward? Me being here?"

"I invited you," you say, not quite wanting to acknowledge that, yes, being around him fully-clothed is a little strange. It isn't an unwelcome strangeness, but you're not about to let that little confession fly either.

“We used to be friends,” Eren muses quietly, uncharacteristically outspoken. That makes your eyes widen; you almost wonder if he’s spoken without meaning to.

“We’re still friends,” you murmur against the rim of your glass, taking another large swig. Eren shrugs, very focused on portioning out the cookie dough. “We are.”

“I know.” Something about his voice shatters you, makes your fingers grip around your glass tight enough to break. You can almost see the self-provided rejection flitting across his face; it’s quick, but it’s cold enough to feel.

“Eren–”

“Friends.” Eren’s eyes flit over towards you in a gesture of laying arms down, and his lips tighten in a smile that threatens you to challenge the tentative peace he’s building between you both. The word stings when it hits you, bittersweet and ironic. Another fourth of your wine disappears in a single sip, and you smile back in a way that you hope looks more kind than it feels disparaged.

The cookies are baked, the necessary seating arrangements are settled upon, the glasses are refilled, and soon you’re snuggled up on the right side of your couch, feet stretched into Eren’s lap, practically dozing off to a Christmas romcom. Eren is, surprisingly, enthralled, intensely focused on the television and leaning forward in a way that’s bending your ankles uncomfortably but is too adorable to tell him to stop.

“So he’s not going to chase her?” Eren turns to you, devastated and frowning a bit. You snort into your second glass, finding his furrowed brow and flushed cheeks funnier than the mayhem that’s been building on the screen for the last hour.

“You have to watch!” You kick him meaningfully.

Eren receives your kick like a child, groaning dramatically and shooting you a look cold enough to kill. He throws himself back into the couch, absentmindedly taking one of your sock-covered feet in his massive hands and kneading his thumbs into the arch of your foot. He presses into a particularly tender spot, working a soft groan of appreciation from you; Eren’s lips tighten, and he subtly moves your heels a little further away from his crotch, but he doesn’t stop his ministrations. He rubs firm circles into the sides of your ankles, running a thumb up your leg to the back of your knee, beginning to extend his massage up your leg.

A breathy moan falls from your lips, and though he doesn’t turn to look at you, the corner of Eren’s mouth quirks up.

“Feel good?”

“Mhm,” you hum, eyes fluttering shut. You can hear the rustle of Eren’s hair against the couch as he nods, the movie now long faded away into your peripheral focus.

Just as you’re beginning to truly melt into yourself, scooching just the littlest bit towards Eren so he can start rubbing at your thighs, something glimmers into your consciousness. Eren’s your fuck buddy, he said it himself at the store. The gooey, soft emotion that’s welling in your chest, the thing that’s rendering you spineless and malleable that you don’t dare to name– it’s unseemly. The realization crashes over you like a bucket of ice water, raising goosebumps on the back of your neck and causing your eyes to fly open.

Something sickly and sour curls behind your ribs, darkening the contented little glow that had begun to grow there. You feel sick, you feel sixteen again, you feel like a lamb being fattened up for the slaughter. Eren’s not Prince Charming; he’s your fuck buddy, just like he said. You’d done a thorough job of establishing that dynamic, and you remember that as sweet as everything around you might taste, it’s artificial. He’s here for something.

Eren doesn’t notice the change in your demeanor, the stiffening in your muscles; not until you’re climbing into his lap, at least.

“What are you–”

You cut him off by slotting your lips against his, gripping into his shirt with such a fervor that the self-loathing behind it could be confused for mindless want. Eren hesitantly reciprocates, hands sliding down your waist and landing firmly at your hips, leaving a soft impression in the skin there. You rake your fingers through his hair, kissing him deeper and more frantically, bringing your hands down to tug at the hem of your sweatshirt–

“Hey.” Eren’s quiet voice against your lips freezes you where you are, fingers still twisted in the bottom of your shirt.

“What?”

“What’s all this?” Eren’s hand is against your cheek, brushing a strand of hair out of your eyes. It’s so gentle it nearly burns, scalds against the cold, callous arousal you’ve built up in yourself.

“I don’t understand.” Your voice is weak, all the fire you’ve contrived fizzling out as your words cross the barely-there gap between your mouth and Eren’s. Your hands fall into the space shared between your laps, fingers curling and uncurling to mask the tremble running through them. Your gaze stays fixed on them, monitoring for any visible signs of weakness, unable to glance up to meet Eren. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No,” Eren murmurs, forehead pressed unwaveringly against yours, “you didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I don’t understand.”

“It was nice,” Eren says, a little breathless and disbelieving, “it was nice before.”

“So don’t you want…this?”

“I mean, yes. I always want this,” Eren punctuates his statement with an airy chuckle, rubbing his hands up and down your sides, “but I don’t always need it.”

“I feel like I upset you.” You can’t stop the embarrassed frown from working its way onto your face amidst your confusion. This…this is what you and Eren do. Now that it’s been refused, you don’t know where to put your wandering hands, where to tuck the rush of needing to touch him.

“I’m not upset,” Eren says, still barely audible as he thumbs at your chin, “you made my shitty day a lot less shitty, actually.”

“Why was it shitty?”

“My dad.” Something dark and coarse has infused his voice now, rasping against the warm air between you. Despite the rough tone of his voice, Eren’s moving a hand up and down your back soothingly, tucking your head into the crook of his neck. It works– your body goes slack in his hold, slumping against his chest and nuzzling your nose into his shoulder. “Won’t bore you with the details.”

“Tell me.”

“You don’t want to–”

“I do.” You pull back from where he’s pinned you, bringing your forehead back to rest against his. “Even if I’m just your fuck buddy. You can talk to me.”

Eren sighs, heavy and resigned. Even with your vision blurred by how close you are to him, you can see a wry smile twisting the corner of his mouth. “You’re not my fuck buddy.”

“I know. Friends, right?” You hardly dare to breathe against him, heart thudding viciously in your throat to the point that you worry Eren might hear. It’s not a word that encompasses what you feel for him, the mess you’ve both created between yourselves, but it’s your scapegoat, your fallback. No matter how many times you catch his lingering glance as he leaves you in the morning, no matter how often you delve into a bottle of wine and hover your thumb over his contact, no matter how closely he haunts your every thought. Friends.

The hint of a smile disappears from his face. Eren shakes his head against yours, fingers ghosting along your thigh, up your arm until he lands his hand over yours, curls them together in a loose fist against his chest.

“No.” You aren’t sure that you’ve heard him correctly, how quietly he speaks.

“No?”

“No,” Eren confirms, tightening his grip around your hand, “we’re not friends.”

Your breath catches in your throat at the same time Eren’s eyes flit up to meet yours, doubling down on the little confession he’s breathed into you. You’re powerless to do anything under the weight of your fear, your relief, your confusion. It’s enough for now, the understanding that no, you’re not friends and maybe you’ve never been, hanging between you and making the air a little more palatable.

“Not friends.” A little nod from you draws a shaky exhale from Eren, an answering nod of his own, and it feels like you both have mutually agreed to set whatever’s been building, whatever’s too-hot-to-touch, to the side for the time being. It’s enough.

He holds you, and you let him, despite the growing ache in your hips, the restlessness of your feet as they fall asleep. Eren tells you about his father, the career path he’s still afraid to go down. You tell him about your mother, how the emotional distance between you always manages to somehow be greater than the geographical, how love is her number one priority except when it comes from you. Both of you listen in reverence as you map out your scars for each other, delving into what’s healed and skating carefully over the parts that are still tender.

The couple on-screen reunites with a zoom shot and a dramatic kiss in the Christmas snow. The soaring orchestral number that accompanies their reunification is one that’s just loud enough to cover the sound of you and Eren’s hearts beating in tandem, and the clatter of his phone vibrating repeatedly on the kitchen counter.

[lightlycareless]

I keep thinking of naoya making a fool of himself around y/n and y/n just being confused (idk) like he tries to get her to like him but it doesn’t turn out well😭 , idk if that made sense sorry!!😔

Hello!!

Awww this was really sweet to think about, however I got confused in the end and made it somewhat of a happy ending lmao.

Well, I still hope you like it!! (If anyone wants angst tho, I do recommend reading my valentine's day special. But I too been wanting to write something heart clenching for a while, might get onto it....)

warnings: highschool au. naoya likes you but he doesn't know how to approach you. he is ridiculous.

Happy reading!!

A silly Naoya is more like an overconfident Naoya, the type of guy that will never stop bragging about ANYTHING just to make you look his way.

It's certainly worse when he's barely starting to acknowledge his feelings, getting to that point where he finally says "I think I like her."

To stand out and get your attention is something Naoya never thought he'd need to do, simply believing that his title as heir of the Zen'in and his outstanding achievements as sorcerer would've done the trick—but they didn't, and now, he had to put in the work.

Thus, the borderline ridiculous demonstrations of his persona, courtesy of Ranta's advice; though if it’s worth anything, this is not what he envisioned.

"Can you believe he didn't want to accept my assignment only because I didn't hand it over in a folder? That's so stupid, can't wait to get him fired as soon as I—"

"Wait, Naoya, Y/N's coming!"

"ANYWAYS I WENT TO THE MALL THE OTHER DAY TO THIS LUXURIOUS STORE AND BOUGHT JUST ABOUT EVERYTHING THERE AND STILL HAD MONEY TO SPARE, GEE WHY IS EVERYTHING SO CHEAP NOWADAYS??? AND PEOPLE STILL COMPLAIN ABOUT THE ECONOMY!! I JUST WISH I HAD SOMEONE TO SHARE ALL MY MONEY WITH—did she look??? Did she turn around to see me??"

Ranta sighs.

"No."

"Ughghhhhhhh what do I need to do to make her see me?!"

Though frustrated, he does not give up.

"—yeah, I think we're going to this super expensive resort for the weekend. I personally preferred to travel out of the country, but you know how my father is, lazy as always. If it were up to that old man we’d never leave the—and now??? Did that work?? Is she looking??"

But the results are the same.

Naoya would keep on trying, loudly proclaiming things that in his mind would eventually earn him your interest, or at least a simple glance….

Until he, eventually of course, tires himself out. Sorrowfully finding that his endeavors had been nothing but fruitless as you continue living your own life, without Naoya in your consideration.

You’re slowly becoming someone unreachable to his grasp, and while he doesn’t plan on giving up just yet, he does intend to take a break, maybe reconsider his possibilities… before coming to a conclusion where you might not be involved anymore.

And what better way to clear his mind than indulging in one of his favorite activities—secluding himself at the rooftop of the school building to read the newest release of his favorite manga.

Unaware that someone else might be there, coincidentally… the person he wished nothing more than to be with.

"What are you reading?" You'd ask upon noticing the intense stare of the young, somewhat handsome man, he’s giving his magazine.

"Do you mind? I'm bus—o-oh!" He freezes upon realizing it was the girl of his dreams talking to him, cheeks burning red as he closes the manga and looks away. “Don’t—Don't you know it's rude to sneak up on someone like that?!"

"Ah, sorry!" You chuckle, slightly embarrassed. "I didn't mean to startle you, it's just that you looked so concentrated, I couldn’t help but to be intrigued! Is your story really interesting?"

"...it is" Naoya murmurs, gaze returning to you—he almost glances away yet again at your closeness, but your beauty makes it almost impossible to do so. "It's the latest chapter, I waited a whole month to read it."

“A whole month…?” you repeat. “Wow.”

“Yeah, it was a long time—"

“Hmmm, not quite.” You teased. “I’ve waited years just to see the continuation of my favorite series! Talk about dedication.”

“Huh, well, I don’t think it’s the same—this felt worse because of how good it is.”

“Really? I don’t know, I can’t believe you—I have to see what you’re reading for that. You grin, he smirks.

“Is that so? Then don’t let me stop you from finding the truth.”

And Naoya happily obliges, both excited to share one of the things he enjoys the most with the person he adores most, as well as the fact that you’re finally setting your eyes on him! After all this time!

He considered it to be incredibly unexpected, and perhaps a bit silly how it came to be, unable to believe that it took so little to impress you.

But as soppy as it sounds, there is truth in admitting that there is no better way to get someone to like you, than by being yourself.

omg that was so fluffy agkjasjghasjkghjsa cheesy too ahahahahah damn I surprised myself for sure!!

Rest assured, you heard Naoya do all of those things and consistently thought "Is he ok? Why is he yelling?"

After the two begin to date you'll tell him how weird it was of him to do all that hahahah though... "You didn't have to do that, I already liked you." Naoya feels even sillier :^)

Anyways, I hope you liked it!! I'm sorry this didn't end up in a sad note, I read the request very quickly and ended up understanding you only wanted an interpretation of Naoya being silly—though I do want to write something sad between the two, him messing up and all that. Luckily, I have the perfect excuse for that through other asks hehehehehe

Thank you so much for sending in this ask and for your patience!! Take care, and hope to see you soon ❤️❤️❤️❤️

[writing-in-the-impala]

Secret Smokes (Part 4)

Pairing: Teacher! Remus Lupin x Reader

Series Summary: When the reader bumps into the new DADA professor on the bridge in Hogwarts she begins to build a friendship with him all thanks to their shared feeling of not belonging and love for muggle cigarettes. Their friendship blooms while they both fight internal battles deciding what is wrong and what is right leading to a lot of fluff, angst, flirting and a rollercoaster of emotions.

Warnings: Swearing, Drinking, teacher-student relationship (but like it’s all legal chill), SLOWburn we’re in for a long ride

Word Count: 3307

A/N: I know I always say I love you all, but I am blown away by all your support on each chapter. Comments are appreciated I love hearing your thoughts, it helps guide me in what direction to take the story! Anyway get ready we're starting to get a bit angsty in this chapter....

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Previous Chapter, Part 4, Next Chapter

Over the weekend you and the twins did manage to go to Hogsmeade you didn't really need anything for your prank but it was nice to get out of Hogwarts for a bit. You walked around and browsed the shops, making a stop at Honeydukes for some tiny black pepper imps, fragile sugar-spun quills and exploding bonbons. The twins assured you all of this would be useful for future pranks. Before heading back to the castle Fred suggested a quick stop at the Three Broom Sticks and all of you thought it was a great idea. You sat down at a corner table that you loved as it gave you a view of the whole place, you could gossip about all the people there especially teachers. After ordering your drinks you saw a familiar face walk in "Guys looks it's Lupin with the library lady." Fred mentioned.

"Irma Pince?" You questioned maybe slightly too loudly as you watched them walk in, at this moment Lupin's eyes met yours and he gave you a gentle, distant, smile to acknowledge your presence. He held the door for her like a gentleman, pulled the chair out for her before sitting down, very old fashioned you thought. Your eyes didn't leave them until George began to speak again.

"Do you think they're on a date?" George asked.

"Surely not." You answered too quickly.

"What if they know about our prank." You whispered.

"Even if they did why would they out of all people meet here just them to discuss it." George questioned you.

"Maybe Lupin found out and he wants to warn her." You tried to think of any reason apart form a date why he would bring her here.

"Find out from who? There's no chance. It's definitely a date." Fred stated.

"Y/N is just jealous." George stated.

"Who doesn't have the hots for Lupin? We're all jealous." Fred said jokingly.

Your eyes were glued to the pair as Lupin ordered a drink for the two of them, your eyes once again met his and you immediately diverted your gaze to the glass in front of you. "I think we should make the prank bigger." You blurted out.

"Now you're talking. What are you thinking?" Fred asked.

"I don't know, we hex the whole library somehow make everyone who entered there regret it." You didn't know where this sudden hate and anger towards the library came from but the twins enjoyed scheming and you began devising a plan to make it a better, bigger prank. You kept gazing towards Lupin throughout the conversation watching his interaction, he seemed happy, they spent the whole time chatting or maybe discussing. He was dressed more casually then usual, in a shirt and sweater over it but he didn't looks like he dressed up just like he wanted to be more comfortable, you hated yourself for analysing him so much but you struggled to look away. When you were leaving you didn't notice him looking at you the same way and thinking the same thoughts about you.

The weekend ended a bit too quickly and you were back to sitting in classrooms all day waiting for the day to finish, you nearly forgot about your extra DADA lesson in the afternoon but Lupin sent you an owl during breakfast with a reminder. You made your way to his class after a very boring positions lesson with conflicted feelings, you didn't want to do extra lessons but at least it was with him. You knocked on the door gently and heard a soft "come in" from inside. All the desks were already moved against the wall leaving a large open space, Lupin was sitting at his desk at the front of the room grading some papers it seemed he greeted you with a warm smile. "Glad to see you didn't bail Miss L/N."

"I would've forgotten if it wasn't for your owl if I'm being honest." You admitted.

"How was your weekend?" Lupin asked politely. "Uneventful, it went by quicker than expected. Yours?" Lupin sorted the stack of papers he had putting it to the side. "Mine was pleasant, I had a meeting with Irma Pince I'm trying to get more muggle books introduced into the library taking, inspiration from you actually, I think not only will it help muggle born students feel more at home I think it'll be good for everyone to have some diversity." Great so you caused them to have a date, you thought to yourself.... Or maybe it wasn't a date at all just a professional meeting. "And how's that going?" You asked. "Horribly, she's a stubborn old woman stuck in her ways. But I think with a little more convincing I might succeed. We'll see." He said honestly.

"So how does this work? Do you give me spells to practice I do them and then that's it?" You wanted to change the topic. "I thought we'd focus on your weaknesses," Lupin stood up and walked in front of the desk leaning on it. His tie was loose and the top two buttons of his shirt were undone. "I am aware that the practical side is a weakness of yours now two core thing I want to cover with you before Christmas is your Patronus charm and your defensive spells, starting with the latter." 

Lupin began by turning on the record player with music he then began teaching you the hand movements and starting to talk to you about posture and how you should be acting during casting these spells, at moments he got quite close to you even once holding your arm from behind to help you figure out the movement, the feeling of his chest pressed against your back and his arm on your hand send shivers through you making you feel a bit hot and bothered. By the end of your hour with Lupin you wanted to stay in the room keep going because you were enjoying yourself and the fun dynamic. He was gentle and helpful and really cared about helping you. He expressed that these spells aren't just for your exams but rather to protect you navigating the wizarding world. After the hour was up you thanked Lupin for the lesson and left the room with a quick "see you later."

After dinner you headed straight for the bridge to meet Lupin, he wasn't there when you arrived and you began to think he won't show today but he did walking up with his hand in his trouser pockets and a soft look on his face. "You know Y/N you don't have to come here to meet me everyday especially after I've just forced you to spend some of your evening with my in my classroom." He stood next to you leaning over the side but looking at you, not lighting a cigarette. "You make it sound like it's torture to spend time with you profesor." He laughed at your comment. "Besides this isn't like spending time with a teacher this is Lupin not the same guy who teaches DADA." You continued. "How so? What's the big difference?" He pushed.

"Well this guy encourages bad behaviour, he's a good laugh, he encouraged me to actually care about school." You began. "That last one sounds like something a teacher would do." Lupin interrupted.

"That's true, but it's different. Can I tell you something honestly?" You asked vulnerable and Lupin gave you a go on nod. "I see you, as in you who I meet right here as someone I can trust and call a good friend. I feel like your someone I can really trust in, don't get me wrong I have friends but I feel like you understand me in a different way, you understand everything I struggled with over the last few years at Hogwarts the isolation, the-"

"Y/N..." Lupin interrupted. "Sorry I got a bit too deep, I probably shouldn't have said anything." You said in embarrassment. "No Y/N, I appreciate every word. And I appreciate your honesty, if we're both being honest right now I agree completely. It's my first time teaching here and it's weird all my old teachers are now my colleagues and now I'm the old guy do you know how soul crushing that is? I felt so alone moving here all my friends have turned into people I can only see on weekends as I'm stuck on school grounds. But you were someone who decided to speak to me like a human not like a profesor or like a past student and it was so refreshing. Although I don't think I've ever smoked this much in my life." He laughed to himself. "We're both losers." You replied laughing. "What are your friends like?" You asked honestly. Lupin began telling you about Harry's parents and about Sirius Black and how they were school friends and now they're the most important people in his life. He talked openly about missing them but knowing that working at Hogwarts had given him opportunities he wouldn't have had anywhere else. Around 10pm Lupin checked his watch and realised he's kept you up with his stories past curfew, this was the moment you realised you had a prank to pull so you said goodbye to Lupin and made your way back to see the twins.

The twins were both sitting in the common room on one of the sofas as soon as you walked in they both jumped up. "We've been waiting for you." They said in unison. "You need to stop flirting with boys all night we have work to do Y/N." Fred stated. "Everything is ready we've got Harry's invisibility cloak we just need the map." George reached his arm out and you handed him the map. Around midnight you set off towards the library, once you were inside it was completely empty it was pretty cool to be there in the middle of the night, you straight away began jinxing the books it took a while to do all of them but thinking of new ways you can jinx each book made it a little bit more fun. You were maybe making a bit too much noise as you noticed on the map Filch was walking towards you. The three of you quickly jumped under the cloak of invisibility and went left the library, Filch ran past you and went into the library "Students out of bed." He shouted as he ran into the library but then he saw no one you wanted to laugh but you kept silent as you began to walk back to the Gryffindor dorm rooms. You heard Filch's voice complaining out loud behind you approaching you as your turned the corner, you were moving very slowly as you were trying to stay completely covered as you walked down the corridor. "What's wrong Filch?" You heard a familiar voice coming towards you from the opposite direction.

"Students out of bed profesor, they're hiding in the library." Filch said standing right next to you. Now Lupin was standing so close that if you breathed to loudly you were sure he'd hear. The three of you froze the twins shut their eyes probably to avoid laughing you stood there watching. "Now Filch why would students sneak around at this time of night to go to the library?" Lupin asked amused, it felt like he could see right through the cloak of invisibility.

"I could hear their voices." Filch replied.

"Okay." He looked right where you were standing almost making eye contact with you. "Let go check Filch come on." He said and they walked away from you and you felt like you could finally breathe, you ah the twins practically ran back to the dorm as sons as they were out of sight. When you returned, you began laughing about how you nearly got caught thankful that you didn't.

The next day at lunchtime is when the announcement came about your prank profesor McGonagall was the one to break the news "it has come to our attention that last night a group of students decided to jinx the library, now if anyone knows any information about this we urge you to come forwards..." she began her speech. Throughout the whole speech it felt like Lupin was staring at you and the twins. "Do you think he knows?" You asked them on your way out the hall.

"How could he?" George began. "We were under the cloak the whole time there's no way." Fred finished. You went on with your day and luckily no one knew it was you and the twins who pulled off the prank, every teacher would remind the class after the lesson that the library is closed and to come forward with any information during your DADA lesson you felt like Lupin was acting a bit different you didn't know if your conversation with him last night caused it or if he knew about the prank. During his own speech about how the library is closed it felt like his eyes were glued to you, you were confident he knew somehow. That evening he didn't show up to the bridge, you checked a marauders map and he wasn't in Hogwarts at all you felt wrong checking the map but you wanted to know if he went to the bridge after you left.

The next day after your lessons you had your DADA extra session, you went to the class like last time and just as before when you entered the tables were all moved to the side of the classroom. Lupin was sitting behind his desk as before and looked up to you to greet you "Good afternoon Y/N." He simply said.

"Afternoon Professor." You replied he was wearing his shirt properly buttoned up and his tie all the way up a lot more profesional looking than last time. "Today we'll be working on counter-jinxes as I believe you've already mastered jinxes let's see if you can counter them." He stated pulling out a pile of books onto the table, books from the library... "Luckily we have a lot of jinxed books that some students gracefully prepared for us." He handed you the pile of books. "So you want me to remove the jinxes this feels more like detention than tutoring." You felt annoyed at how he was treating you suddenly. "Why would you get detention unless you were the one who jinxed these books, no I don't want you to remove those jinxes I want you to open the books and use a counter jinx to protect yourself from whatever the books have to offer."

"But how am I meant to do that? I don't even know what will come out of them." You were scared of some of the things that the twins may have made the books do. "That's the point, that's the challenge." Lupin said. "You're not making this easy when I have no idea what to do, all I know is how to remove the jinx all together." You stayed in annoyance. He took a book, opened it and preformed a counter-jinx. "See that easy, now imagine you're in the library and you open a book a jinx comes out how do you defend yourself." He hands you a book and you look at it, it's one that you had jinxed so you knew what to expect and knew what spell to preform. Lupin seemed shocked at how well you did he probably wanted you to fail. "Not many people can think of a specific counter jinx before seeing what the book is jinxed with you know." He said simply. "I'm a faster learner." You replied and Lupin handed you a book on Herbology. "Very well, again." This one you didn't know the jinx so you opened the book slowly but you still didn't manage to use the correct counter jinx and you got completely covered in dirt and leaves. Lupin couldn't hold in his laugh at your state and you laughed along with him. "Okay now the first thing you need to know about counter jinxes-"

"Hold on you just wanted me to get jinxed before you began to teach me?" You questioned. "If you're going to jinx a book at least be able to protect yourself from it." He winked at you after saying it. "I didn't jinx this book." You began to wipe all the dirt off your face and Lupin handed you a tissue. "No but you jinxed that one." He pointed to the first book you opened. "You can't possibly know that."

"All I want to know is why Y/N? Because the way I see it is I tell you I'm trying to get muggle books into the library and that very night you and the Weasley twins go in and jinx every single book. No don't deny it, I was already sure that I sensed you there, and with how you knew what was in that book you provided it. Now believe me I appreciate the commitment to getting every, single, book. However I was doing something to try and help you and instead you decided to completely jeopardise it. If Pince ever finds out you were part of the efforts there will never be a muggle book allowed in the school even less so the library do you understand?" You had never seen Lupin so annoyed.

"Profesor, I'm sorry. I truly am, I don't know if it'll make you feel any better but this had nothing to do with you or Pince. I didn't even consider how this would affect you we just thought it would be funny and a great first prank of the year. We had this planned before, when we saw you in the pub with Pince we thought you had somehow found out and you were warning her and then we decided you couldn't know and that you guys are on a date" Lupin nearly chocked on the cup of tea he was drinking when you said the last part. "Me and her? On a date? Look I've made some odd romantic choices in life but I have some level of standards. Thank you for your apology Y/N, I may have taken it a bit personally especially after our conversation on Monday night, now let's begin before we spend the whole hour talking. So to perform a counter jinx..." There was no more mention of your prank and no more mention of anything personal profesor Lupin mode was on and he was back into teaching you still shared a few moments of laughing and a few jokes especially when you were victim to jinxed books but apart from that it was purely professional. When the lesson finished Lupin informed you that he is cancelling Fridays session as he will be away over the next few days he apologised and you simply replied with, "so no smokes on the bridge?" His facial expression became soft and he gave you a smile. "Unfortunately you'll have to wait until I'm back dear." He winked and then looked mortified with his own words as he opened the door for you it was as if he said that last word by accident he quickly continued with. "Have a lovely rest of the evening Y/N." and that was the last time you saw him for a few days, it was because of the full moon. You had already figured out after the first few months that whenever the full moon was approaching he wouldn't come to the bridge and then after the full moon he would get Snape to cover his lessons. You should've known straight away when he said he sensed you it meant he could smell you or even hear you from a distance that's why he knew that it was you hidden under the cloak of invisibility.

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