#but she makes him think he's just being irrational

[sokkastyles]

Hi,

Hope you are doing well. Thank you for the response on the Day of Black Sun episode. I am going back to TSR.

First, I saw your post on Zuko antis arguing about his whining to Katara. I saw one of those whining posts and I was like, didn't he change his tune once she explained how angry she was with his betrayal at Ba Sing Se and asked what he could do to make it up to her? Also, I think he had a fair right to ask her, at that point Katara had been sniping at him verbally for some time, and even he reached his limit, plus neither Aang nor Sokka seemed willing to get Katara to stop, so he had to ask her himself.

Second, Katara's line to Sokka: "You didn't love her like I did" is something I have been stuck on. The way it is worded, it does not say that his love for their mother was less than hers, just that it was different. I know it was said in anger, but I wonder if the line was true to some degree.

I would like your thoughts on this.

The way people who make these arguments pretend to care about Katara's feelings is transparent when they will act like Zuko was being insensitive to Katara for doing something that actually helped her and then turn around and say Katara was so mean to Sokka and she just didn't know what she was doing and what she wanted.

Nobody ever talks about how what Sokka said defending Aang (who had a moment before compared Katara to Jet) might have hurt Katara. How she might have reacted in anger due to people she loved ganging up on her and telling her that wanting justice for her mother's murder was the same as harming innocents. I have a hard time even believing that Sokka would not recognize this difference, considering how he called out Jet's behavior to protect Katara, and all he's said about how even if he disagrees with her, he will always back his sister's righteous anger because he knows her heart is in the right place. How betrayed do you think Katara felt when in that moment, it felt like her own brother didn't care enough about their mother's murder?

But no, she must have said what she said because she's a crazy irrational bitch (or being influenced by bloodthirsty Zuko, because of course Katara can't make decisions for herself).

I've said this before, but Katara and Sokka really needed a moment to mourn their mother together and comfort each other, and they don't get that because the narrative needs someone to point out how "wise" Aang is, no matter how out of character it is for Sokka to say it. The show even acknowledges how out of character this is for Sokka, by having him say that "usually, [Aang's wisdom) is annoying." What changed here? Why is this Sokka's reaction to his sister flying off on Appa with Zuko, full of rage and hurt and about to go on a dangerous mission, her rage and hurt, rather than being mollified by Aang's "wisdom," intensified by it? If anything, Sokka should have been angry at Aang for not stopping her, even and especially if he felt she should not have gone. He should have been angry at Aang for antagonizing and alienating her further in a moment of pain, and then using it as a moment to preach about his own beliefs. Why on earth would Sokka choose this moment to suddenly agree with Aang, even if he thought Katara was wrong?

And how did Sokka's feelings change in the episode? We don't know, because this episode centered around his mother's murder is not really about him, the one line he gets defending Aang isn't really about his feelings, either about his mother or his sister, it's there to prop up Aang and only there to prop up Aang.

What do you think an in character Sokka would think was more wise? Aang antagonizing his sister and trying to paint her as irrational so that she runs off to a dangerous location, or Zuko going with her and making sure she is safe, bringing her back safely and comforting her? Even if Sokka didn't agree with Katara confronting Yon Rah, I think he would notice how her pain is helped in the end by Zuko, not Aang. Which is a big reason why he isn't allowed any lines at the end of the episode, lol.

I'm also gonna point out again the hypocrisy of Sokka siding with Aang while he's criticizing Katara for trying to steal Appa when he tried to steal Appa in the previous two-part episode, before being stopped by Zuko. Between this and the Boiling Rock, I think Sokka should be thanking Zuko for taking care of his family.

[gendrie]

Her eyes widened. "He is not Lady Waynwood's heir. He's Robert's heir. If Robert were to die . . ." Petyr arched an eyebrow. "When Robert dies. Our poor brave Sweetrobin is such a sickly boy, it is only a matter of time. When Robert dies, Harry the Heir becomes Lord Harrold, Defender of the Vale and Lord of the Eyrie. (Sansa, AFFC) x “I hate that Harry,” Sweetrobin said when she was gone. “He calls me cousin, but he’s just waiting for me to die so he can take the Eyrie. He thinks I don’t know, but I do.” “Your lordship should not believe such nonsense,” Alayne said. “I’m sure Ser Harrold loves you well.” And if the gods are good, he will love me too. Her tummy gave a little flutter. (Sansa, TWOW)

this is a textbook example of gaslighting lmao

also hilarious to me that sweetrobin is like 8 years old and expressing concern that there are parties working against him to take control of the eyrie after he dies, but sansa is just like omg i hope harry likes me!!! bc she is an active participant in the aforementioned plot to take control of the eyrie after sweetrobin dies.

[floral-hex]

me… sad boy

[smol-tired-binch-blog]

*head in hands* oh God my parental issues affect my view of Kiryu

[buddyapologist]

sry for all the txt posts but i just remembered that line from stranger things s2 where hopper is leaving a note for eleven that says "i'm not mad, i'm just sorry" and im just. fucking essay in the tags

[earthtooz]

x : CALL ME BACK : *+ﾟ

in which: ratio has been waiting for your call since you left.

warnings: FLUFF i promise, 1.6k wc, gn!reader, ratio being horribly in love and pining so badly, reader works as a space researcher, reader is a sunshine so this is basically sunshine x grump/asshole, written during his first release/ v1.6.

a/n: the way i wrote the synopsis made it sound like it was sad. maybe i'll write an angst version of the same prompt. anyways i listened to 'she calls me back' by noah kahan on loop when writing this, enjoy!

Dr. Ratio is not happy with you.

It has been three weeks and three days since he last received any sort of notification from you, any sort of indication that you were healthy and alive whilst traversing the universe. Typically, you would send daily updates of how your exploration was progressing, or new intergalactic discoveries of yours, regardless of whether or not he cared. 

(He cares. He cares more than his indifferent texts lead on. There’s a reason he always responds, after all, and it’s not just because you’ve been friends for almost two decades now.

To him, your constant messages and calls told him that you were thinking of him, and the more space he occupies in your mind, the happier he is; that is a theory he discovered years ago.

He happily listens to all of your rambles. He'll listen whilst in the middle of grading various papers or writing one of his own, he'll listen whilst eating, he'll listen to you as long as you reach out.

So where are the messages he was waiting for?)

Today is the arranged day for you to return from your new mission. Ratio has been counting down the days since he first marked it on his large desk calender, your return being the first event on his list. 

He is undeniably excited to see you, yet he feels petty enough to not make the trip down and welcome you by the docks, even if your ship’s landing zone is just outside the University.

It’s irrational of him to hold your inactivity against you. Perhaps you just encountered an inconvenience and lost your phone, or wherever you are does not have good reception to send a text halfway across the galaxy. He understands that your safety comes first on these missions, but he can’t help but feel neglected, and he curses the fragility of his ego for making him this way. 

The clock strikes another hour. From his office, Ratio cannot see the ships and come and go, but his ‘scholarly instincts’ are telling him that you are on your way. 

Not even ten minutes later, a figure comes barrelling into his office.

“There he is!” You exclaim exuberantly. It seems that the length of the mission did not erode your enthusiasm, and he’s grateful that it is as contagious as he remembers. “And here I was wondering where you were, did you dig your nose too deep in those encyclopaedias you love to memorise?”

You’re still in your research gear, hips and legs buckled to the brim with various equipment that are necessary to your work, and his heart beats guiltily at the sight. 

You came to see him as soon as you landed. He was your first destination after a tiring three and a half weeks away from home, not the comfort of your home or bed or shower; him. 

“Ha. Ha.” The purple-haired laughs dryly, getting up from his chair and rounding his desk. “Good to see you still alive.”

“What’s with the lack of energy? Didn’t you miss me, Veritas?” 

He did. More than you could ever imagine. “Of course I did.” 

Opening his arms for a hug, you all but run into his embrace, throwing your arms and anchoring yourself to the sturdiness of his torso. After not seeing you for so long, your familiar frame and warmth provides nothing but comfort. 

“Welcome home,” Ratio murmurs into your hairline. 

Your arms squeeze him tighter. “Good to be back.” 

After a few beats of silence, you step away from him and he reluctantly detaches himself from you. 

“I got you something,” you say whilst setting down your bag. Pulling out a suitcase, the purple-haired looks at you inquisitively. “It’s a chess board! I got you a new one to add to your collection!”

Ratio doesn’t bother correcting you that his ‘collection’ only has seven boards at most, but that does not negate his gratitude. 

Even whilst away, you thought of him, and that is a great victory.

“Thank you. We can play together, sometime,” he proposes.

“Oh, please. I could never beat you.”

“Giving up before you even start? That does not sound like the Y/n I know.”

“It’s not ‘giving up’, it’s picking my battles wisely. I could never best you in a game of chess, or any competition of intellect,” you laugh as if the idea itself was ridiculous.

“You shouldn’t discredit yourself based on your own assumptions. I think you make a very capable opponent.”

“I know your tricks, Veritas. Buttering me up just so you can chip at my armour and knock me down when I’m weak, have you no shame?” Your voice is light, with an air of joviality to it, and the purple-haired is enchanted. 

It seems that you don’t know him as well as you think. He finds no shame in hogging as much of your time as possible, even if it is through a game of chess that he will beat you at. He also hopes that you don’t know him well enough to hear the subtle desperation in his voice when he enquires if you’ll be leaving for another mission soon.

“I don’t believe so,” you tell him nonchalantly. “I’ll be stationed here for about two months. They’re expecting a detailed, twenty-page length report from me, so I guess I’ll be locked in my study until that’s complete.”

Ratio clicks his tongue. “Pity.”

(It’s not a pity. He gets to spend two months with you in compensation for the month that he was robbed of.)

“Not to sound self-absorbed, but why weren’t you there are the dock to pick me up?” You ask. 

“Were you disappointed?”

“A little. You’re always the first face I see whenever I come home. It was jarring to not see you amongst the crowd.”

Jealousy slashes at his chest, and he turns away from you to hide his sour expression. “I apologise, I must have lost track of the days.”

“You’re Doctor Veritas Ratio. According to your crazy schedules, there are 72 hours instead of 24 in a standard day, you never lose track.” 

Truth is a fascinating thing. By nature, it is black and white, but it’s perception is what traps fools. Humans have strived to discover an uncontested truth for as long as they have existed, but as long as opinions exist, it will constantly be revised and put together again, ambiguity heavy in the air that surrounds it. 

You, however, are even more fascinating with the way you can deconstruct him so easily.

“If you must know, I was… upset with you because you were not messaging me.”

The silence that follows is deafening.

Your laughter is even more so.

Hubris can really kill a man. Ratio does not need to consult the texts of ancient philosophers to confirm that. 

“Really?” You choke out in between cackles. “I didn’t think such menial things mattered to you!”

“Normally, they don’t.”

“So, I’m a special case then?”

“I shouldn’t need to spell it out for you.”

“Veritas!” You coo, placing your hands on either sides of his face. “I am so flattered!” 

Dr. Ratio is a renowned scholar with eight doctorate degrees. The mere mention of his name will inspire hundreds, if not, thousands, of people who have the faintest lust for academia, spreading marvel and fear amongst students and professors alike. His achievements will be engraved and celebrated by the university for centuries to come, and his classes are so notoriously hard that the passing rate is 3%. 

And yet, here he is, reduced to putty in your hands.

Perhaps that is who he is at his core. Rid from him the alabaster head, the codex, and pride, you’ll be left with a man who is ardently in love with his best friend.

“Stop it, this is ridiculous!” He mutters, hoping to salvage his image at least a little.

You listen to his demands, separating from him with a hearty laugh. “So you really do like me, that’s nice to know.”

(It is far beyond ‘like’ now. Can you come back and hold his face again?)

“I like you when you’re quiet.”

“Clearly not if you loathed my virtual silence! Which, by the way, was caused because the planet I was on had horrible reception. I really need to switch cell providers, mine doesn’t even reach to half way across the galaxy, apparently.”

“Well. I am glad you survived the three weeks without reception, it must have been a formidable challenge for you.”

“Were you worried for me?”

Of course he was. Whilst you freely roam the expansiveness of the universe, the only thing that anchors him to you across the span of light years is a message. “You should stop asking questions you know the answer to.”

“Boo, you’re no fun.” You lean down to grab the bags that lay at your feet, swinging them over one shoulder. Do you have to leave so soon? “Well, I better get going. I’m aching for a shower and a nap. Now that I have proper data and Wifi, rest assured that I will be texting you soon.”

“Cannot wait.” 

“Goodbye, Veritas! I shall see you soon!” 

‘Soon’ is a relative time frame. He can only hope that you won’t keep him waiting again.

The door clicks shut behind you, and not even five seconds later, his phone buzzes with a call.

“Sorry!” Your voice greets from the other end of the line. “Was just testing if my reception actually worked.”

“There is a reason your day job is a Space Researcher and not a comedian.”

“Can’t you at least laugh? Let’s grab dinner tomorrow at half past six, make yourself free, Veritas!” 

You hang up before he can even get a word in, and he’s left to stare at the blank screen of his phone with an idiotic smile.

Everything’s alright when you call him back.

© EARTHTOOZ 2024, do not steal, translate, repost my fics and do not recommend my fics onto any other site.

[kookslastbutton]

what love feels like ༓ myg (m)

✑ Summary: Being a mother to a beautiful baby girl and wife to an adoring husband is the most rewarding feeling in the world. But you also work a full-time job, are overtired most of the time, stressed, don't have any alone time, look very different than eight years ago, and sex? Well, that hasn’t happened in weeks. The gravity of the situation weighs on you until one day, all of your deepest insecurities rear their ugly head–that your husband might not love you as much anymore and someone could take him away from you.

Pairing: husband!yoongi x reader

AU/genre: angst, fluff, smut, marriage au

Rating: M, 18+

Word Count: 6.7k+

Warnings: swearing, both Yoongi and oc are in their 30s, mom and full-time worker!oc, reserved!dad!yoongi, lack of intimacy, mentions of body insecurities post-pregnancy, mentions of fear of abandonment, mentions of jealousy. irrational worries, built-up stress, light fighting, silent treatment, stubbornness, lots of reassurance, nightmares, cute backstory of how they met, a lot of ily, Yoongi and oc being good parents 🥹, Yoongi calls oc doll, and explicit sexual content

sexual warnings: swearing, kissing, neck kisses, pleading, banter, dirty talk, doll petname, asking for consent, b**b squeezing & sucking, hair threading, penetration, f*ngering, big d*ck!yoongi, growling, missi*nary, eye contact, tearing up, c*ming together

Now Playing: Breathing by Anne Marie

a/n: Okay this was for Yoon's bday. Based on the poll, husband!Yoon won. Was intended to be a Drabble but well...heh 😅 Anyway, I had a lot of fun writing this fic and Yoon is just such a good hubby for responding well to these very relatable insecurities. (Low-key love this couple...) I'm sorry for any typos or warnings i missed! I checked and double checked but a few might have slipped. Enjoy! Anyway please enjoy! 🥰

“So, you're Jia's father, huh? I don’t think I've seen you here before, and I’m sure I would have recognized you.”

With his back straight and arms folded, Yoongi gives the woman in front of him a quick once-over. Mid-40s, freshly single, and definitely in need of some companionship. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out; she’s been talking his ear off for the past twenty minutes like he’s some kind of remedy to all her problems.

Honestly, he just swung by to pick up his four-year-old from daycare after another grueling day at work. But the moment he walked in, it was as if all the single moms latched onto him like a flock of hungry geese. This one’s name is Sandra in particular.

It reminds him of his college basketball days, how the cheerleaders all too eagerly swarmed around him after sinking the winning shot at the championship game. Shame he was too busy eyeing the girl in the stands to care, her face buried behind a book twice as big as her head. Who reads an 800-page novel during the playoffs anyway?

Fate, as one may call it, intervened about a week later when his best friend became said girl’s lab partner. Yoongi didn’t make any sudden moves at first, but well, he did make her his wife three years later.

“It’s just so nice to finally meet the father of such a sweet child. Especially considering how many dads tend to take a backseat in their child's early years.” Is she still going on? Yoongi does his best to stay present, though it’s proving unsuccessful. “And Jia truly is an angel! It’s clear you’re doing a wonderful job raising her, even with a full-time job and all.”

Yoongi’s eyebrows knit together at the somewhat odd choice of words. “Thanks,” he drawls out, noticing her pupils dilating with every breath. “Most of the credit goes to my wife though. She’s a great mom to Jia.”

“Jia’s m-mom?” Sandra stutters, her mouth slightly agape. Yoongi senses the gears turning in her head as she struggles to process the unexpected presence of his wife. Tempting as it is, he holds down a smirk. Of course, he’s a happily married man–for nearly eight years now.

“Yeah,” he replies simply. “She’s usually the one to pick up our daughter from daycare, but she’s been working a lot of overtime lately. I thought I'd come instead so she can get some rest."

“Oh, well that’s very–“

“Daddy! Daddy, you’re here!” The sound of a familiar high-pitched voice, along with a light pattering of feet, diverts both adult’s attention.

“Hey kid.” Yoongi effortlessly lifts the small child once in front of him, securing her in his arms. “Have fun today?”

Jia gives an enthusiastic nod, bright red ribbons in her hair bouncing cutely as she does. Proudly, she shows him the drawing she made.

“See? It’s me, you, and mommy!” She makes sure to point to each part of the picture with her pointer finger.

Yoongi gently takes the artwork from his daughter’s hand and lets out a soft chuckle. “Now this is what I call a masterpiece! Mommy’s gonna love hanging this one on the fridge. How about I hold onto this and you go grab your backpack, okay?”

As soon as Jia’s feet touch the carpeted floor again, she races off to her cubby in the far corner of the room. Yoongi shoots Sandra a final glance before slowly following behind. “We got to get going, but nice meeting you.”

“You…too.” Sandra’s response is more than disappointed as she watches the father-daughter duo make their way out of the building. Evidently, Min Yoongi isn’t the single dad she originally assumed. Funny, she swore there wasn’t a wedding band in sight. Maybe she missed it.

“No, I’m sorry but I’m certain we haven’t used any of your services in the last six months. My husband canceled it in late October.”

With one hand, you grip your cell phone up to an ear while the other pops open the dishwasher. You’ve been on the phone with the cable company for half an hour, trying to make sense of an unexpected charge that appeared on your bank account this morning. You consider yourself more patient than most, yet after working all day, a pile of laundry waiting to be washed, and dinner threatening to burn on the stove, the last thing you have time for is arguing with your old service provider.

“I understand, ma’am, and I apologize for any confusion. I’m taking a look at my records and they’re all showing me that—oh wait a second.”

The young man on the opposite end of the line interrupts his own thought, piquing your concern in the process.

“What did you say your last name is?”

You answer and in an instant, you’re met with a thousand rushed apologies; something about getting the account names mixed up in their system. It’s difficult to decipher everything you hear with the front door being thrust open that very moment.

“Mommy, where are you? We’re home!” Your daughter not so subtly announces her presence from the foyer. She kicks off her shoes, hangs her backpack on the designated wall hook, and then rushes to the kitchen upon catching a brief glimpse of your shirt.

“It’s alright, these mistakes happen.” You hang up the call and turn around to find Jia only steps away, a big goofy grin on her face. Infectious, you break out into a smile yourself and swoop her up.

“Hey honey, I missed you so much!” You kiss the side of your daughter’s head as she wraps her small arms around your neck. “You look so pretty with all these ribbons in your hair! Daddy did a good job, didn’t he?”

Being that you were called into work earlier than usual this morning, Yoongi was the one who got Jia dressed and ready for daycare. You’re delightfully surprised by the results.

“Mmhm,” Jia nods, twirling a couple of strands of hair between her thumb and forefinger. “But Daddy pulls too much!”

“Maybe if someone had listened and stopped fussing when I told her, I wouldn’t have accidentally yanked on her hair when I was reaching for her favorite Hello Kitty scrunchie.” Yoongi joins you both in the kitchen, walking over to press a quick peck on your lips while tenderly caressing the small of your back. The gesture soothes you of your earlier frustrations. “Who was that on the phone? Cable company?”

“Yeah, they canceled the charge. Wrong account.” As you reiterate the entire mix-up, your eyes wander all over your husband. He’s especially handsome tonight, given his perfectly tousled black hair and navy blue blazer flowing over his body. It’s tastefully oversized with a clean, white top paired underneath. You, on the other hand, are sporting a raggedy old t-shirt and stained sweatpants.

There was a time when you used to put a shit ton more effort into your appearance. It was before you got pregnant with Jia, back when you and Yoongi were going out on weekly dates. Neither of you has that kind of time anymore, or energy for that matter. You didn’t believe the other moms when they told you the romance takes a nose dive after you have your first kid. Yet here you are, proven wrong again.

Being parents to a beautiful baby girl is likely the most rewarding feeling in the world for you and Yoongi. You don’t remember the last time the two of you got real quality alone time though. And sex? Well, that hasn’t happened in weeks. The gravity of the situation weighs more on you with each passing day to be honest. Sure, you’re not the same person you used to be eight years ago, but shouldn’t you and Yoongi still make time for at least a little intimacy?

“How was picking up Jia by the way?” You look at Yoongi who merely shrugs nonchalantly in response.

“It was fine. Nothing too out of the ordinary,” Yoong gives you another peck before heading up the stairs to your bedroom. “I’m gonna go get changed. Why don’t you show Mommy the drawing you did Jia?”

“A drawing?” You shift your attention to your daughter whose eyes sparkle like diamonds upon mention. “We should put it up on the fridge then. Let’s take a look hmm?”

“It’s in my backpack! My new friend and I were drawing together. Her name is Mi-Sun.” Jia continues telling you all about her friend Mi-Sun as you make your way to the front door where her backpack hangs. You’re fully engaged until the very end. “Daddy made a new friend too!” she joyously claps her hands together, not realizing the depth of her remark.

“Oh, who’s Daddy’s new friend honey?” You ask, staying as calm as possible.

“Ms. Cho! They were talking for a really long time today.”

Ms. Cho? You think back to all the moms you’ve met at daycare. Somehow you can’t recall ever hearing or meeting a Ms. Cho. She must be a single mom, you deduce. Was she new? What did she look like? And why didn’t Yoongi mention her when you asked?

This has to be nothing but a little small talk, an acquaintance at most. Besides, the moms at Jia’s daycare are quite a chatty bunch and Yoongi wouldn’t dare overstep any boundaries.

“Do you know what they were talking about?” You don’t enjoy asking your child for details about your husband, yet you can’t seem to help it this time.

“I dunno,” she shrugs her shoulders. "Daddy was laughing a lot."

Suddenly, the self-assurance you gave yourself earlier slips away; seemingly useless given the queasy feeling building in the pit of your stomach.

For the remainder of the night, you purposely dodge every attempt your husband makes to kiss, touch, and hold you. You’ve even begun responding to his questions in one-word answers and at times, with nothing at all.

Yes, you’re being petty; more than usual. The silent treatment frustrates Yoongi to no end and it isn’t very mature of you, but neither is refusing to tell your wife that some single mom was flirting with you in front of your kid! Okay, so maybe that's an exaggeration. Maybe it all sums up to a harmless conversation, but it’s not like you know either way with Yoongi being as reserved as he is. It brings you back to your early dating days when he wouldn’t think to tell you about various aspects of his day; who he ate breakfast with that morning or the one classmate of his that wouldn’t leave him alone for two semesters.

Truth be told, you're simply hoping that your husband will bring up the topic first, without having to be the classic nagging wife. You’re a jealous person by nature so it’s not a simple task. Even now as you fold the first batch of laundry on your shared bed, him on the other side doing the same, you struggle to keep from blurting everything out.

“So,” Yoongi fluffs up a clean pillowcase before sliding it onto one of the bed pillows. “How was work?”

What a basic question, you grumble internally. Is that all he’s got? “Was okay,” you reply. “The usual.”

“You must be tired from the day. Did you get to lie down at all?” Yoongi picks up another pillowcase, repeating the process as before. When he glances your way, it’s clear something’s on your mind. You’ve started pairing Jia’s socks far more aggressively than normal and you’re holding back your responses. “Did you hear me, doll? Or am I going deaf here?” The sarcastic chuckle distracts you from your task, forcing your attention.

You’re about to respond when your eyes briefly flicker down to his hands, his left one in particular. Where's his wedding ring? Yoongi always wears it no matter what. The same sick feeling from before returns tenfold. No wonder that Ms. Cho was all over him–she must have thought he was single.

“No, I didn’t get to lie down Yoongi. I worked all day, came home and made dinner, called the cable guy to get that stupid bill figured out, and now I’m doing the second load of laundry. I’m really just not in the mood to chat.” It comes out a blur as you snatch the empty laundry basket and head for your washer and dryer, your eyes welling up with tears.

“__, wait.” Yoongi tosses the last pillow near the headboard and stops you in your tracks, his hand firmly gripping one end of the laundry basket. The intensity of his stare softens as he speaks. “I'm sorry if it seems like I'm forcing you to talk. I know you've been losing a lot of sleep recently between work, Jia, and upkeeping the house. We just don't get a lot of time to see each other anymore and I miss you…I miss talking to you."

With every ounce of self-control remaining, you hold back any tears that risk spilling out. You don't know why you're acting like this, why you're crying over something that seems so small and insignificant to the rest of the world. Yoongi loves you. He's said it a million times and proven it to you over and over again, for eight years now. He wouldn’t cheat on you, yet you still get so worked up about the idea that someone could take him away from you. Someone half your age, more attractive, or hell even the opposite sex if it means fewer dark circles under their eyes.

"Why- why aren't you wearing your ring?" Your naturally confident voice dwindles to the whisper of a mouse. It's completely out of character, nevertheless, here you are.

"I..." Your husband's voice wavers. His gaze flickers to his left hand, where his ring should be, but isn't. "Shit...I took it off in the shower this morning," he confesses, frustrated by his forgetfulness. "I was in such a rush to get Jia to daycare, and me to work, that it completely slipped my mind. I'm sorry—I fully intended to put it back on." He pauses, then perks up. "It's still in the bathroom. I'll be right back, okay?"

You watch as he makes a beeline for the master bathroom, eager to rectify the situation as soon as possible. You should have kept silent what you say next, but you don't.

"No wonder the moms at Jia's daycare were so drawn to you."

"What?" Yoongi stops in his tracks. The dumbfounded expression on his face tells you that you've caught him off guard again.

"Jia told me about someone named Ms. Cho," you reluctantly continue. "The two of you were laughing and talking and–"

"Baby, don't worry about that." Seizing his chance, your husband walks back over to you and sneakily pulls the laundry basket from under your arm. He sets it on the ground after, then reaches to take your hand in his, but stubbornly you cross your arms.

"Her name's Sandra," he starts explaining. "She's a new mom at the daycare and she didn't know anyone, so she started talking to me. I got the sense she was a little overly friendly but it was all small talk, nothing more."

Still largely unsatisfied, you remain unmoved. "If it wasn't a big deal then why didn't you tell me earlier?"

"Because nothing serious happened. The majority of the conversation was her venting about her ex-husband and me wishing you were right there next to me. Please believe me. All I could think about was finally being able to come home to you after a long week with Jia in our arms."

"Really?" Well, now you're feeling guilty for avoiding him in nearly every way tonight. Guilty for believing such wild assumptions that he'd leave you for someone else over one measly conversation. Guilty for letting yourself get so worked up over a situation you, quite frankly, knew few details about.

"I mean it doll." This time, when he reaches out to grasp your wrist, he succeeds. He intertwines his fingers with yours and leads you to the edge of your bed, gently pulling you down to sit on his lap. "Do you really think I could look at anyone else the way I look at you? Or think about you the way I have for the last eight-plus years we've been married and known each other?"

You hesitate your answer, averting his eye contact. "I know but…"

"No, don't finish that. Look at me," he intercepts. "You and our daughter are the only women on my mind–24/7. I can't get either of you out of my head and I don't want to. I'm so sorry I forgot to put my wedding band back on this morning, and again tonight. I feel awful about it and I'll be more careful from now on. And another thing, when Sandra and I were talking I mentioned you multiple times. So, it's clear to her that I'm a happily married man."

The last bit of information manages to perk your ears. "You talked about me?" Your eyes widen as you finally shift your full attention to him. Yoongi eyes widen with you, amused by your sudden change of heart to look at him.

"I said my wife is an amazing mother, works too hard for her own good, and needed to rest today. Give or take a few words."

That's all? You huff to yourself. Would it been nice if your husband also thrown in that you were beautiful or stunning in that mix of compliments? Yes, yes it would have–again, you're pettiness clouds your better judgment. You're not as pissed off as before, but rather semi-irritated.

"Okay…well I guess it's fine then. I'm sorry for being short with you earlier. I shouldn't have made those rash conclusions about the ring and that woman from the daycare. It wasn't reasonable of me." You get up from his lap, yet Yoongi isn't entirely convinced that you're okay.

"There's still something you're not telling me. I can tell."

"No, there's nothing else." You waive him off, placing your hand on your bedroom doorknob "You told her you had a wife so it's fine. I need to switch the second load of laundry.”

"Come on, doll. Let's not leave things unsaid now."

Sighing at his plead, you find yourself giving into all your repressed thoughts and emotions. It swallows you up, like a tidal wave you can't stop. "Look at me Yoon. I'm sweaty, I have dark circles under my eyes, stretch marks, love handles, my hair's a mess, and all I wear are old sweats covered in stains. I'm nothing like I used to be! No wonder we aren't intimate anymore."

Yoongi rises from the bed at once, offended by the sudden digression. "Is that what this is all about? It’s not even about that single mom from daycare is it?" The truth of the matter sinks in as he speaks.

"I guess maybe so…though I'm still annoyed about that too." Great, you're back to square one again.

"Come with me, I need to show you something." Your husband gestures you to follow him, which you slowly concede to.

"What are you doing Yoon?" You both walk into the master bathroom, stopping in front of the large mirror above the sink.

"I'm showing you the woman I'm in love with and have been in love with for nearly eight years now. Sweats and all." Yoongi makes you face the mirror directly, hands around your shoulders. You have trouble stomaching the sight.

"Yoongi please, I can't. The laundry ringing off." You avoid looking into the mirror and make a move to leave the bathroom.

"Just stay with me a minute, please?" Your husband refuses to loosen his hold on you, turning your body so you're looking eye to eye. "No, you're not the same person as you were and neither am I. We're parents to a beautiful daughter now, who we love and adore. We're also overtired 90% of the time, juggling a million things at once. But there's one thing you can count on to always stay the same–my loyalty to you. I'll always be in love with you __, no matter what age you are or however way you look. There's nothing you can do to change that, so why fight it?"

Dammit. A single tear rolls down your cheek as you take in his heart-melting speech. It's not his words alone, it's the sincerity behind them. How he's repeated similar countless times before throughout your entire relationship.

"I love you, Yoon..." you choke out the words, composure fleeting.

"I love you so much, doll." He wipes the wetness of your tear with his thumb. "As far as us not being as intimate anymore, that's my fault. I don't ever want you to feel like I don't desire you every day. Why don't we send the kid to my parents this weekend and let me start making things right hmm?"

"I don't know if we can this weekend. Jia has a playdate on Saturday."

"So, I'll ask Mom to take her. She'll be happy to, trust me. We can finally watch that movie you've been dying to show me since what? December?"

"You're serious?" Your eyes light up at the mention of what is essentially a movie date. The show Yoongi's referring to is one you've been craving to see for months, yet neither of you has found the time to watch. "I've been talking about it for so long, Yoon."

"I know you have, it's why I suggested it. I've been wanting to watch it too with all the trailers you keep sending me. Plus, I'll be able to keep my beautiful wife in my arms for over two hours. That's a lot for us, especially with you being such a busy bee. I can never get you to light in one place! What's up with that, huh?"

Feeling your natural self re-emerging, you throw a playful swat to his arm and scowl at his teasing comment. "You're one to talk! You're basically a workaholic! Besides, you knew who you were marrying when you met me."

Yoongi chuckles and brings both hands to cup your cheeks, squishing them slightly. "A cutie who reads 800-page novels at a basketball game?"

"Stop babying me!" You pull his hands off your cheeks and rub them, trying to regain some composure. "I don't regret my choices, I like books. It's why I'm such a boss at work!"

"Okay, boss," he laughs. "What about what I suggested before then? I can call Mom tomorrow and ask her if she could watch Jia for the day. She'll take her to her playdate, then they can spend the rest of the day together."

It does sound nice, having the whole day with your husband.

"Okay," you agree. "Let's try."

"Good." Yoongi slides his hands down to your hips and pulls you flush against his chest. "How about we seal it with a kiss now?" You nod and he leans his head down, pressing an amazing, tender kiss to your lips. It makes you both giddy on queue.

"Read one more story, Daddy!" Jia leaps off her small, twin bed and bounds for her bookshelf. She lets out a series of giggles when a large pair of hands catch her, lifting her high into the air.

"I already read you three books kid," Yoongi says, planting a kiss on her cheek. "Bedtime." He then tucks her into her fluffy comforter, plugs in her teddy bear nightlight, and closes her bedroom door.

The next second, Jia comes running out of her room, latching onto his right leg. "I don't wanna go to bed. I wanna play!" Figures she'd be hyper at this hour.

Yoongi sighs and picks her up. "Daddy told you to go to sleep, it's not playtime. You'll have lots of time for that tomorrow when you get to see your friend." He then carries her into her room, yet she fusses in his arms; thumping her tiny fists into his chest.

"No, no, no, Daddy. I want to play!"

Sighing, Yoongi looks at his child with sharp eyes. "Jia–"

"Hey," you interrupt, entering your daughter's bedroom upon hearing the commotion down the hall. "What's going on?"

"Kid doesn't want to go to bed."

You give an empathetic look and saunter over to the pair, gently taking Jia into your arms. Yoongi places his hands on his hips as he watches you reason with your daughter.

"Jia, you know tomorrow's a big day right? You and Sana are going to go to the playground together." The child nods. "You don't want to be tired when you're playing do you?"

"No..." She shakes her head. "I want to be awake!"

"Then you need to listen to Daddy and go to sleep. That way you'll be full of energy tomorrow when you and Sana go on the swings or slide down all the big slides." You smile as Jia starts rubbing her drowsy eyes, yawning in the process.

"But I...okay," she slowly concedes, eyes fluttering shut as she gives into her sleepy state. Unsurprising to you and Yoongi, she was tired all along. But like most kids, hated going to bed.

"See?" You lay Jia in her bed and pull the covers up near her chin, giving her a light kiss on the side of her head. Yoongi bends down and does the same after you. "You just gotta talk to her a little, she'll typically fall asleep on her own."

"But I read her three of her favorite books." Yoongi shuts off the overhead light, along with the door to Jia's room, and follows you to your bedroom.

"That's different Yoon," you argue back. "Books excite her."

"She takes after you that way then." Yoongi pulls his t-shirt off, leaving him bare-chested, and climbs onto his side of the bed. You join him shortly after with your head resting on his chest and an arm thrown around his waist.

"I'm so exhausted," you yawn.

"Go to sleep, baby. I'm right here." Your husband places a hand over your wrapped arm, sending you off into a deep slumber.

Well this is just ironic. Almost 2 A.M. and you're wide awake.

What initially started as a nice, relaxing dream quickly turned into a terrible nightmare. In the dream, you woke up alone. Yoongi was gone. Jia was gone too. You can't exactly make sense of it, except for a vague memory of Jia calling another woman 'Mom'. You couldn't see her face very well, so it could've been anyone. You couldn't speak either, so even when you tried approaching the three, they couldn't hear you. You've had nightmares plenty of times, but this one is new. It's a clear projection of all the underlying concerns upheaved from earlier; insecurities, abandonment, loss, and it has you unsettled.

You glance over to your husband's side of the bed. He's fast asleep, no longer cuddling you due to you both flip-flopping in your sleep. You decide to slide closer to him, needing to watch him for a while. It might sound weird, but you love watching him sleep. He's so handsome and you feel a great deal of comfort doing so. Maybe if he was awake, you'd tell him about what you dreamt. Then again...maybe not.

"I love you Yoon," you whisper as quietly as you can, tracing his every facial feature with your eyes.

"'m, I love you too."

Is he-was he awake? As if caught red-handed, you quickly flit your face away in favor of the blank ceiling above. You weren't expecting him to answer at all, and in such a hoarse voice too. You're a little turned on by it to be honest.

"Can't sleep?" he speaks up again, eyes still closed.

"No, I''ll be okay though. You can go back to sleep. Don't worry."

He grunts, a tad unhappy with your dismissal of him. "Do you want to talk about it? Your dream?"

You whip your head in his direction. "How–" You pause, seeing his eyes blink open.

"I didn't meet you just yesterday, doll. I know they keep you up. Just know, I'm always here okay? Always." He reaches for you with delicate fingers as he continues. "Now, come here. Seems we got separated in our sleep."

You accept the offer and cuddle into him again. This time your noses nearly touch and his arm wraps around your lower waist. You feel the growing urge to kiss him, wanting to forget your nightmare entirely. But perhaps silly, you ask permission first, seeing as he's close to drifting off again.

"Yoon?"

"Mm."

"Can we kiss?" Your cheeks flush a little at the request. Why are you acting like this? You've been married for years.

"Sure, 'm tired but I could go for a make-out right now." A small smirk graces his lips as he teases you. You give him a classic 'Yoongi!' in reply. "I'm kidding. You don't ever have to ask me that," he finishes.

"Hmm, maybe I don't want a kiss anymore." You feign stubbornness, just to see his response. And a response he gives you, more than you're prepared for.

"You're ridiculous," he grumbles, capturing your lips in one fell swoop. He moves his lips against yours as the hand on your waist grips tighter. The tiniest of moans escapes your lips.

You attempt to break the kiss first, thinking it will only last for a few seconds. Yet Yoongi slips a hand behind your neck to bring you into another kiss. One that's deeper than the last. You feel your breath being taken away little by little, especially when his tongue licks into your mouth. God, you haven't kissed like this in an eternity. A wetness soon gathers between your thighs.

"'m, Yoon," you gasp when his cool fingers sneakily make their way under your shirt, tickling your bare skin. They travel the expanse of your waist, stomach, and up along your back. "So cold."

Yoongi pulls away from the kiss and retracts his fingers. He then lazily moves his body until his chest hovers over your own, rolling you on your back in the process. He's a bit of a blur due to the dimness of the room, yet you can see the whites of his eyes a bit better than before.

"Help me warm them then," he says, folding his hands on top of yours from where they rest on your stomach. "You're really burning up, doll."

His observation is right. Ever since you woke up, you're body's been hotter than normal. The stress is clear and it's only increasing due to the unexpected turn of tonight's events; your husband seemingly wanting to make love to you in the middle of the night.

"So I am," you reply, staring straight into his eyes. "Must be because of all the sudden surprises today. My body's finally responding to it all."

Yoongi nods, following your implication. "Well let's do something to calm it down, shall we?" He waits for your final go before making any abrupt movements.

"But...you haven't seen me–"

"Naked in a while?" he predicts your next words, unfazed. "I've seen it all, each time better than the last because I love you. You're beautiful to me, no matter what. Let me love you __. I've missed you. I've missed us."

"Okay...please," you sigh, desperately needing his touch. "It's been so long since we've been this close."

Neither of you has it in you to delay another second as you dive into another fiery kiss, your hands wandering up and down each other's bodies. You love his hair the most, so you run your fingers through it repeatedly. Your husband's soft grunts remind you that it's as pleasurable for him as it is for you, and as if to counter, he latches his lips to the curve of your neck.

"Yoon," you moan, shivering at the feeling of being peppered in open-mouth kisses. Your eyes automatically roll up as well.

Yoongi nips at your jaw next, featherlike, yet deadly to you nevertheless. He doesn't allow himself to linger more than a second, though, preferring to keep you on your toes. So with careful fingers, he begins lifting the bottom of your shirt.

"Can I?"

You hum in approval and lean forward for him to remove it.

With your nipples now exposed to the brisk air, stiffening due to arousal, Yoongi brings both his hands up to caress your boobs. He's incredibly gentle, telling you how beautiful you are once again until his thumbs start circling your peaked nipples. A rush of sensation shoots up your spine as he rolls them harder, flicking them once in a while.

"Fuck," you swear.

"Feeling good?"

All you do is nod fervently in response, which Yoongi takes as his signal to lower his head to your chest. He squeezes both breasts in his hand before wrapping his mouth around a nipple, licking and sucking relentlessly. He repeats the same to the other.

"Yoongi, I need you. Please." You're core tightens, thighs struggling not to rub together, as you plead with your husband to relieve you. You are so wet and getting wetter.

"I'm here, doll, I got you. Fingers first hm?"

He pushes part of the comforter towards the foot of the bed, then gestures for you to raise your butt. Any shred of mystery of how worked up he's gotten you slip away as he pulls your underwear and pants down your legs. They both get tossed on the floor, per usual.

Bare pussy exposed, Yoongi guides your legs further apart and brings a hand down to your entrance. One of his long, slender fingers traces up your folds so smoothly that you buck your hips upon the touch. He smiles lightly at the subtle response, pleased that you're finally enjoying yourself; too often you put your needs last. His finger slowly sinks into your well-lubricated pussy, velvety walls clenching around it.

"Oh, g-god," you give a shaky moan as his finger pumps and curls in you, stimulating your g-spot. "Need you now, Yoon, so bad."

"Mm not yet, we need to stretch you out. You haven't taken me for a good three or four weeks," he smirks at your eagerness, sliding a second finger next to the first. "This pussy is drenched but not enough. I need you to come. Can you do that for me?"

Fast, quick movements follow suit as your husband works you up to an orgasm. Oh fuck, oh fuck, you chant in near whines. Your pussy is spasming around him, walls tightening with each push and pull. You know when he draws his hand out that it's covered with your come. Messy, sex is messy and both of you are too far gone to care; the pleasure sweeping over you.

Finally, in what feels like an endless tease, you have your first orgasm of the night. You feel your body relaxing into the mattress again, yet your breath remains short. Yoongi, on the other hand, groans seeing your release dripping down your thighs and onto the sheets. For a split second, there's a slight darkening in his eyes while he takes in your post-orgasmic form. The two fingers that had been inside you are sensually brought to his lips, slipping between the seam before being cleaned off.

You're taken aback by the action, though you've witnessed it before. Something about watching your husband willingly follow through with a gesture so lewd makes your head spin–you want him to fuck you right this instant. He must share the same feeling because you don't even need to sound the words due to his hands already making quick work of his pants.

"You drive me mad, you know that? Can never get a break with how sweet you taste. Your lips, your come. All of it makes me go mad." His full length comes in view, hard and tip leaking with pre-cum. You try not to let yourself stare at the thickness but hell, you must've forgotten the extent of your husband's size. You don't remember it being this big before.

"Well," you gulp. "You're not making it easy on me either, looking like this."

Yoongi climbs over to you again, settling into a straddled position, and looks deep into your eyes. "Who's fault do you think that is?"

"It's your fault." You bend your legs and wrap them around his mid-section. You can feel the tip of his cock tease at your entrance. The anticipation is beyond grueling.

"No," he says, aligning himself up to your weeping hole. "it's yours." He then thrusts his hips forward, his length sinking into you so perfectly it has you completely satisfied.

"Y-Yours," you whimper out, unable to form a steady sentence.

"Fine." He picks up his pace. "Let's just agree we both fuck each other up on a daily---ah fuck!" Yoongi growls and gives you a suspicious look when he feels your pussy suddenly clench around his length.

"I didn't do it on purpose this time! You're fucking me too good is all."

"Really? You're not just teasing me?"

Yoongi is slow to believe since you've purposefully clenched countless times before, simply out of playfulness. Tonight is different than those nights though because you're telling the truth–he's truly fucking you so good.

"What the hell," he concedes. "You feel so fucking fantastic, I don't even care." He continues his movements, thrusting into you with deep groans and labored breaths. His fingers grip the mattress harder with the veins in his neck bulging out.

Both your bodies move in sync as the familiar sound of skin slapping on skin echoes off the walls of your bedroom. You do your best to keep your moans low, not wanting to risk waking up your daughter.

"Yoon, fuck! I need to come, it's gonna-fuck-happen soon," you swear, pussy throbbing at the feeling of being so full after weeks of abstinence. You can tell you're reaching your high with the bundle of nerves in your core threatening to snap at any given moment.

Of course, you're wet too, extremely wet.

"I'm. Nearly. There." He barely sounds the words out, jaw clenching. "Just another minute, and we can finish together."

Your eyes, which haven't left his since he entered you, begin to glass over with tears. It's overwhelming; his love for you. No matter the doubts that tell you the opposite, you can't give in to their ugly lies. You'll continue to struggle, naturally, but you won't ever let them win. Yoongi's never once given up on you, and neither should you.

"I love you, Yoon...I love you with all my soul," you choke the words, falling apart all at once. "I'm sorry for today. How jealous and irrational I got."

"Don't apologize, doll. I shouldn't have let it go so far, our lack of intimacy and alone time. I promise we're going to make it all right okay?"

Giving you one last thrust, you both have your release at the same time. Yoongi helps ride your orgasm out by lazily continuing to grind into you. Yeah, you might need to shower and switch out the sheets after tonight, but you don't regret it one bit.

"In all seriousness baby," Yoongi speaks up, guiding your legs back on the soft mattress until you’re comfortable. "Don't feel like you have to apologize for everything. I understand your feelings and where you were coming from. I will say, the silent treatment kills me though. I'd rather you yell at me than not talk to me at all."

"It's not easy for me to raise my voice like that, Yoon." You throw your arms around his neck and sigh softly. "But I can try talking to you more, or at least tell you I need some time to process before I'm ready to have a conversation. I don't know, am I making sense?"

"Plenty of sense. I'll share more about my day with you and who I'm talking to as well. We'll also carve out time to have together. I love our daughter, but I don't see the harm in reaching out to our friends and family to babysit once in a while."

"Well, this sounds good to me," you hum.

"Me too." Yoongi smiles wide and goes in for another warm kiss. Your eyes flutter shut in unison.

This is what love feels like.

a/n: LMK what you think 🥰

Masterlist | Requests: closed | Taglist | Fic Recs

no reposting, copying, or translating my work– © kookslastbutton

[yourgothiccqueen]

LN4 - “Formula One Sucks”

Summary: A grumpy reader meets her match.

Parings : Lando Norris x Female Reader

Warnings: none except swearing - fluff and silliness!

PART 1 PART 2 PART 3

Masterlist

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

“I think just don’t give a shit about it!”

“That’s because you’re a boring cow!”

Y/N sat crossed legged on the grass outside her tent, sun beating down on her face as she half heartedly sipped on a capri sun. Spending the night lying on the floor had left her aching and exhausted, and she feared spending the day watching ‘cars go round in circles’ would truly tip her over the edge.

“I just don’t get why I had to come.” Y/N groaned. “You know loads of other people.”

“None of whom were free at short notice on a Sunday!” Y/N’s friend Annie exclaimed.

Y/N groaned dramatically. She was already hating the fact that she was going to be spending the day trying to shelter from the heat whilst pushing her way through crowds of obsessive fans.

“It’s the three things I hate the most - cars, people and outside.”

“Oh shush, you had to come because you’re such a joyous, positive influence in my life who I knew would jump at the opportunity!” Annie said, sarcastically. “Now stop being so bloody miserable.”

Y/N scowled and playfully swatted Annie on the leg.

“You’re a bitch, you know that?”

“I know. Now drink your capri sun and cheer the fuck up.”

—————————————————————-

By 12pm Y/N had not, in fact, cheered the fuck up. She was truly finished with the world of formula one. So far she had queued for the loo, listened to some very loud music and spent an extortionate amount of money on a relatively small (and cold) hot dog.

Annie had long disappeared, claiming to have spotted some guy called ‘Fernando’ before rushing off into the crowd with a squeal, promising to meet Y/N at their seats later on.

It was beginning to get all too much for little Y/N L/N (😉) as she made her way throughout the bustle of people, eager to finally find someplace quiet to eat.

Eventually she found herself going through a set of doors (which definitely did not say staff only) as she found herself a quiet corner.

“Perfect.”

Before she could even take a bite, she heard a cough from behind her.

“Ermmm, what are you doing?”

Turning around, Y/N found herself faced with a relatively young man, wearing an orange cap with curls of brown peeking out the bottom. He looked strangely familiar, but Y/N couldn’t put her finger on it, and quite frankly she was too hangry to care.

“I’m eating my hot dog.”

The man smirked and let out a small laugh.

“Yeah, I can see that.”

Y/N shrugged and said “ask stupid questions, get stupid answers” before taking a bite.

The man raised an eyebrow slightly, intrigued by the passive aggressive woman in front of him, who seemingly didn’t know who he was.

“Are you here for the race? Or do you work here?” He questioned.

“I’m here for the race. Are you?”

The curly haired man smirked slightly, letting out a little laugh.

“Yeah, I suppose you could say that.”

Y/N crammed another bite of hot dog into her mouth “Well, enjoy. It’s all a load of crap if you ask me though.”

A look of intrigue on his face, he asked “what makes you say that?”

“It’s just boring!” Y/N exclaimed. “Car goes zoom, someone wins, hurrah - so bloody what?! What’s the point?”

The man looked back at her, a look of mild bewilderment and irration written across his face.

“Well yeah, the car is one aspect of it, sure. But it’s the drivers that bring that passion, that excitement every week. They’re the ones who shake things up and keep things fresh. They’re the ones who make it worth watching.” The man let out a small cough. “I mean, that’s my opinion anyway.”

“Hmm. So which driver should I look out for today then?” Y/N queried.

The curly haired man shot her a questionable look.

“Don’t you know the names of any of the drivers?”

Y/N shrugged “I know Lewis Hamilton.”

He let out a laugh and another smirk again “well, that’s a start I suppose.”

Y/N was getting sick of this man smirking at her. But then again, it was a very nice smirk. And he did seem like a very nice man.

“So, what are you doing here if you hate formula one?” The man queried, arms folded against his chest.

“My friend’s a big fan, and her boyfriend who was was meant to be coming has got the flu.” Y/N sighed. “As much as I hate being here, I’d feel even shitter if she came on her own.”

The man let out a small smile “Well, that’s nice of you to do that for your friend.”

He suddenly glanced down at Y/N’s lips, and appeared to take a step closer.

Was this mysterious, attractive stranger about to kiss her?

His thumb reached up to her chin and she couldn’t help but look up into his eyes.

God he had beautiful eyes.

She felt his thumb touch her skin with the gentlest of touches, and her eyes fluttered shut.

He smelt *heavenly*. What aftershave was he wearing?

“Sorry, you had some ketchup on your chin.” He let out a soft giggle.

Y/N’s eyes snapped open, and she felt herself return to reality.

“Oh!”

The mystery man let out a giggle as his thumb brushed against her chin - “all gone.”

She laughed. “Thank you. It’s not everyday a stranger wipes ketchup off your face. Did we just get to second base?”

The man let out a laugh (it’s a very nice laugh).

“Sure. I’ll count it if you do.”

An urgent shout sounded from a door behind them.

“I’ve got to go. It was nice chatting to you though.” The man stated. “And to answer your question, look out for Lando Norris today. I’ve heard he’s one to watch!”

“Will do.” Y/N called, still slightly stunned from the interaction.

A few moments passed before a security clad gentlemen rounded the corner.

“Oi, you shouldn’t be back here! Get back out the front!”

“Relax - I’ve finished my hot dog, I’m going!”

———————————————————

The rest of the afternoon was a blur, as Y/N sat close to Annie, eyes fixated on a certain McLaren as he reached his final lap of the race.

“And Lando Norris has finished in P2!”

Cheers erupted from around Y/N and she found herself joining it. Turned out that ‘cars, and people and outside’ could be pretty exciting - who knew?!

“Fuck yeah!” Annie shouted, jumping up and down.

The McLaren driver removed his helmet before waving up to the crowds, a grin plastered on his face.

Y/N’s own grin left her face.

“Oh shit. That’s the guy I met earlier!”

“What?” Annie exclaimed. “You met Lando Norris?”

“Yes! Is he a big deal?” Y/N stated, panic rising.

Annie glanced around them, signalling to the cheering crowds - “Duh! What did you say to him?”

Y/N gulped - “I shoved a hot dog in my mouth and told him formula one is crap.”

Annie stared. No words left her mouth.

Y/N could feel her face turning red. “I then proceeded to ask him if he was going to the race.”

A quick, sharp laugh left Annie’s mouth, before she fell into floods of hysterics.

“Holy shit! What is wrong with you?!”

Y/N could feel herself cringing.

“Oh god, I don’t know! Lots apparently!”

She glanced down to Lando again, to find him smirking up at her. He winked, before turning back towards his team.

“Oh my god, I’m never going outside again.” Y/N cringed. “This is all your fault!”

“My fault?” Annie laughed. “I didn’t tell an F1 driver that his sport is crap!”

Before Y/N could respond, she felt a tap on her shoulder. A uniformed worker pressed a piece of paper into her hand.

“I’ve been asked to give this to you.” The woman smiled, before walking away.

“What is it?” Annie questioned, eyeing the paper.

Y/N unwrapped it, finding quickly scrawled words,

Hello Grumpy,

I hope the race was enough to change your mind about formula one. Here’s my number if you ever fancy a hot dog or a debate over ‘cars going zoom’.

LN xx

“What. The. Fuck.” Annie’s eyes widened.

Y/N grinned.

“Maybe I do like F1 after all!”

[bloompompom]

Always the Quiet Ones*

*this is a revamped reupload of my previous fic

✽ summary: eren mistakenly took his new lab partner for being quiet, only to discover she was so much more than that. ✽ content: ~12.5k word count. eren jaeger x female reader, college au, one shot, mutual pining, smut, fluff, casual sex, praise, light spanking, explicit consent, alcohol, explicit language, explicit sexual content, reader discretion advised. 18+ ✽ a/n: i just really missed this fic </3

It was the honest-to-God truth when Eren said he wasn’t looking to catch feelings for anyone. But then you came along.

You were harmless enough—nothing more than his quiet lab partner in anatomy. He didn’t know what to think of you, other than you had a tendency to keep to yourself. On the rare occasion you spoke up, your words were always brief, pertinent to whatever assignment was at hand. But more often than not, you’d only address Eren with a cursory nod when he’d take his assigned seat beside you.

The class was awful enough, with two-hour labs being the worst part of Eren’s week because he spent them in a fumbling and awkward silence. But if you wouldn’t bother to glance up from your book when you talked to him, then he would treat you the same. He brought the bare minimum to conversations. He gave one-word answers; a specific grunt for yes, another for no, each you had to learn.

He couldn’t help but wonder why you were, for lack of better words, like that. Quiet. Standoffish. Withdrawn. He had a few theories on the matter—only because lectures were just that boring. His most probable theory was that you were shy. That would make the most sense, wouldn’t it?

Perhaps you were the type of student who took her classes way too seriously. He guessed you to be in your third year, like him. Maybe you were trying to get into a competitive graduate program. Or maybe you really liked anatomy. You seemed to like the textbook an awful lot, always reading far too closely in the way nerds do in cartoons. But other times, it was almost as if you were avoiding looking him in the eye.

Then there were the days—usually when Eren felt particularly disgruntled—that your quietness irked him to no end. He knew it was irrational to care so much, but damn it, why were you like that? And all the time, too. You must be stuck up. What else could he blame your perpetually cold shoulder on? He wasn’t proud of it, but sometimes he believed you were a bitch. Simple as that.

Eren’s theories could go on and on, but they all skirted the truth. At least, you didn’t think yourself a bitch. No, the reason behind your reserved demeanor was much more straightforward than that.

You had a stupid crush on Eren.

A girlish, twirling-your-hair-around-your-finger middle school crush. That made your stomach feel hollow and full, somehow at once, and had you gushing to your roommate despite knowing you’d never act on it.

It’d been like this since last semester, though you weren’t even sure Eren knew of your existence until Professor Hange partnered up the two of you.

God. Thinking about it now still riddled you with anxiety. You swore up and down that you were going to die that day. Like actually keel over from a heart attack in the middle of class and die.

In another universe, perhaps this forced proximity would have excited you. Maybe he would have given you his phone number to text about homework, and in that universe, you would have been giddy over it.

Unfortunately for you, in this universe, anatomy was far from your strongest subject. Very, very far.

You drove yourself mad over all the ways you’d inevitably embarrass yourself in front of Eren, lab after lab. It terrified you to where you wouldn’t dare ask him a question. What if you sounded dumb? So you’d press on without having him repeat himself and only scribble down what little you could manage.

It was despicable. It was despicable, and you knew it, and you still didn’t change a thing because it was much easier to pretend Eren wasn’t there to begin with. Even if it meant you’d started seeing your grade slip.

You hoped to keep that—and your crush—a secret, but there was one day he got a bit too nosy for your liking.

Professor Hange handed your lab report back, face down, like always. You knew professors did that for everyone, no matter the grade, but sometimes the rule felt targeted at you.

You didn’t want to, but you forced yourself to peel back the corner and take a peek. Unsurprisingly, a lousy grade met you on the other side. Again.

For someone wanting to hide their score, you weren’t as careful as you should have been when sliding the paper into your folder. Eren leaned back in his seat, just far enough to steal a glimpse from over your shoulder. For research, obviously. If you liked anatomy so much, then you must be pretty good at the subject.

But what he saw surprised him, especially when thought about his grade in the class. It slipped out on a chuckle when he said, “Wow. Are you even writing anything down?”

You startled, slamming your folder shut. “Huh?”

You couldn’t tell if Eren was joking or not. He was, but it didn’t come across as lighthearted as he had hoped. He often let his thoughts carelessly spill into words, but you didn’t know about that nasty habit of his. All you could think was shit, because he had finally figured out that you had no idea what you were doing.

Admittedly, Eren felt a little guilty once he saw the panic wash over your face. He cracked a smile at you, maybe for the first time. Still, his eyebrows furrowed in pity, like he couldn’t hold it back.

“The lab,” Eren clarified. He pointed to the crumpled paper, half in the folder, half poking out. “We do them together every week. How are you screwing up that badly?”

What kind of question was that? You gave him a hard frown and regretted thinking he’d be anything more than curt with you. Pity brows or not, you weren’t feeling much sympathy from him.

You didn’t reply, just stared past him blankly as you imagined how this horrible moment would torment you as you tried to fall asleep that night. You only snapped from it when you heard his chair drag against the tile. He sighed—a bit too loudly for you to consider natural—then started putting his belongings into his backpack.

“Look,” Eren began. He glanced up at you once he’d zipped his bag shut. His eyes made you flighty. “You don’t have to get stuck with a shitty grade. I bet I can help.”

His voice was flat, and you didn’t like his delivery much, but beneath it, there was a glint of kindness. You weren’t sure where it came from, and frankly, neither did Eren. He attributed it to his guilt for speaking so thoughtlessly. It was hard not to, what with the way your face—always so stoic that he’d think you were made of marble—turned sullen. He didn’t like how it made him feel. More than that, he disliked knowing you could pull such a reaction from him.

“You still have my number, yeah?” Eren asked.

You nodded. You did, in fact, still have his phone number. It was in the top corner of the first page of your notebook. He wrote it down after your first class together like you hoped he would. You decided not to do anything with it. You didn’t even save it, too worried about the possibility of drunk texting him.

“Good,” he said. “We can meet up sometime to study together.”

“Okay, yeah. Thanks,” you said, quietly at first, but your confidence grew with each word when you realized this might not have to become one of your top ten most embarrassing memories.

“Sure.” Eren stood up and swung his backpack over his shoulder. He smiled at you again. It was real this time, big enough to make your stomach flip. “I can’t let my lab partner flunk out on me.”

So that was where everything began. And by ‘everything,’ you meant how you and Eren would study together occasionally. Nothing more. Definitely not the fun sort of studying—you know, like having him study your anatomy rather than the pictures in his textbook. Oh, well. You could still dream.

It took two study dates (your term for them) before you didn’t sit on the edge of your seat around Eren. As lame as it sounded, he made you incredibly nervous, more nervous than you felt around him in class. And like in class, you tried your hardest to keep your eyes on your text. You knew if you looked at him, you’d turn into a pile of goo before you could even look away.

It was shameful to admit, but you’d catch yourself stealing glances at him, but only when you were certain he wouldn’t notice. The times when he was jotting down notes because you liked how he looked when he was pensive. His dark brows would sit low over his eyes, and his bottom lip would jut out ever so slightly. And sometimes, only when truly stumped, he’d run his fingers through his hair in thought. You liked that, too.

By the time midterms had come and gone, you started seeing Eren more and more, meeting outside of class twice a week—a third if you had a report due. By then, it was impossible to allow your heart to flutter every time you were around him, otherwise it was bound to give out.

What you wanted to call study dates quickly became what felt like tutoring lessons. And just to be clear, you were not the tutor. But after Eren had you convinced his willingness to help was genuine, you didn’t worry as much about sounding dumb. He never seemed bothered when he had to explain a topic, even if you went overboard with the questions.

It was nice to not have to think so hard around him. He’d poke fun at you because you always mixed up dorsal and ventral, and you never let him live down spelling ‘brain’ as ‘brian.’ “It was one time,” he’d always complain back to you.

After getting scolded one too many times in the library for goofing off, other spots around campus had to make do. Then that turned into you going to Eren’s place, just a five-minute walk from your lab building.

Eren lived in a house with three other boys. Jean, Connie, and Armin. You found Jean and Connie to be nice enough based on the handful of conversations you had with them. But Eren blamed them for the reason you didn’t study at the house often, accusing them of being too distracting to think straight.

Eren wouldn’t ever tell you this—hell, he couldn’t think of anyone he’d confess this to—but the real reason he didn’t like to study at his place was Armin.

Armin. Eren’s blonde best friend for the last ten years. His roommate that you would describe as cute as a button and sharp as a tack. He knew much more about anatomy than you and Eren. When Armin was bored, he’d join you on the couch and answer the questions Eren couldn’t.

He couldn’t pinpoint why it bothered him so much. He always knew Armin was smarter than him; it had never been a problem before, but now it irked him ceaselessly. Instead of trying to sort it out, he decided going to your apartment was the better solution. Your roommate, Hitch, was more tolerable.

It was near final exam week when it hit you, a smack-across-the-face reminder that you still had a crush on Eren. It happened when your study dates became less of a one-on-one thing and more like a group hangout.

You were friendly, something between classmates and acquaintances, with the peers sitting around you. One girl, Mina, told you she, Thomas, and Samuel were getting together to prepare for the upcoming final. She insisted you and Eren should join.

You didn’t respond right away. You couldn’t, not with the way your stomach churned when Eren answered for you.

“She needs all the help she can get,” he said, giving you a playful pay on the shoulder. He was only joking, but you wished he didn’t sound so eager. You especially wished his hand, innocently placed on your back, didn’t make your face burn.

You got over it quickly. It was difficult to stay bitter at people you got along well with, so much so that you’d accomplish more chatting than studying. Luckily for the rest of you, Eren and Thomas knew enough to help you skate by.

But when Eren began texting in the new group chat more than he’d text you, you weren’t afraid to say you noticed a sting. It felt like you’d let your chances with him slip by because, next semester, you wouldn’t be his lab partner anymore.

You left the exam feeling okay at best. You walked out with your head down, not paying any attention as Mina caught up to you. She invited you to come by her place that Friday night, that some of your classmates would be there to celebrate the end of Professor Hange’s pop quizzes. You thought little about it when you said yes.

You were at the get-together for an hour, maybe longer, when someone was drunk enough to start a game of Never Have I Ever. After your second beer, you felt just adventurous enough to play.

Mina’s living room was on the smaller side for hosting, but it was nice enough. She had everyone crowd around, sitting where they could, whether it was on the sofa or the floor, and in the center was an old beer. It’d warmed from sitting out for a few hours, according to Samuel, and chugging it would serve as punishment for putting the last of your fingers down. And while you were tipsy, you certainly hadn’t drunk enough for that.

You would, of course. But you didn’t know it then.

You sat on the floor, legs folded to your chest, with your hand growing tired in the air. Only your index finger remained standing when Mina shouted it was her turn.

“Never have I ever had a body count higher than five,” she announced.

A few people put a finger down, but it didn’t matter. You let your forehead drop to your knees in defeat. Everyone started laughing, hounding you to drink the beer when you whined, “Do I have to?”

If you weren’t busy downing that lukewarm can, pouting as you went, and your audience wasn’t too busy heckling you, maybe someone would have noticed how Eren went quiet, how a firm crease formed just between his unsettled brows.

He couldn’t articulate the feeling, but it reminded him of the one he got when he saw you laugh with Armin. Some strange burning, uncomfortably deep in his stomach. It made him not want to look at you any longer.

Your body count didn’t offend him. After all, he had to put a finger down for the same reason. Though you surprised him, he had to admit, but that wasn’t new. The more he learned about you, the more he realized his assumptions about you couldn’t have been more off—specifically the ones about you being a bitch and good at anatomy.

Eren studied you from across the room. Your nose crinkled; giggles spilled from you as you tried, for the second time, to finish the rest of the beer. Eren had heard you laugh—many times, actually—but something about it always made his chest go tight.

His thoughts ventured further, wandering, wondering if you crinkle your nose the same way when you come.

He could see you beneath him, naked. Brows pinched together cutely, teeth dipped into your swollen bottom lip. He could feel your thighs under his hands, soft and giving under his palms as he slipped between—

It was so wrong of him. To be in a room full of people and pretend as if you were the only two people there. The only two people to exist.

That swarming in his gut burned hotter. He took another sip of his beer like it would dull it.

There was a moment of doubt. Almost like a hangnail, he could pick and pick at it until he created a wound of his own making. What was so wrong with him that made you uninterested?

He could deny naming the sick feeling as much as he wanted, but Eren knew what it was: insecurity. He was jealous of people he didn’t even know, for no other reason than they had the chance to be with you in all the ways he craved.

He felt fucking pathetic for it.

Eren didn’t stay at the party long after that. You left Mina’s just before midnight and didn’t think of much of that night, or Eren, for the rest of the weekend. On Monday, you checked your final grade for anatomy, and by some miracle, you passed the class.

It was well into winter break when you saw Eren again. You bumped into him at a house party, when there was about a week left until classes started and everyone was trickling back to campus to celebrate the new year.

You didn’t expect to see him this soon—actually, you weren’t so sure you’d ever see him again. Anatomy was the only glue holding you together. You wished you could say you had more faith in the friendship, in him, but he hadn’t talked to you since Mina’s party. You thought he would have at least been curious to know how you did in the class.

It was probably better this way, you told yourself, considering you nearly failed the class because of him. Well, you technically passed because of him too, but you wouldn’t have needed to worry about failing if he wasn’t your lab partner.

All that for a silly crush.

You stumbled into Eren toward the end of the night, the time when parties turn spacey and liminal; the limbo dividing night and day. A few lights were on now, and whoever was in charge of the music had clearly given up a while ago. Everything was a not-so-subtle sign pointing toward the exit.

Believe it or not, you wanted nothing more than to go home. You would have been out of there thirty minutes ago if it weren’t for Hitch. Your loveable, yet self-proclaimed ditzy roommate had disappeared.

By the time you thought to search for her, you had already drunk past your limit. You were dizzy, starving, and having poked your head into every room and around every corner. No Hitch, but you walked in on a lot of dry humping.

The last time you saw her, she was one of those dry humpers. She was all over some guy you guessed to be the reason she wanted to come to the party. Anyway, you were sure you’d catch his name tomorrow morning.

You were too distracted, too bubbly from the leftover New Year’s champagne, to see what was in front of you—even if he was rather tall, broad, and hard to miss. You didn’t even look twice as you walked past Eren. He’d only grabbed your attention once you heard your name, disappointed that the voice was too deep to belong to Hitch.

You spun around and the floor tilted with you. It took you a few steps to straighten back out, but once you did, your vision settled on Eren.

He gave you a lop-sided smile, serving as nothing more than a hesitant greeting. He only made it more awkward by throwing in a cheeky, “Long time, no see.”

You offered a chuckle that was only half-forced, the other half genuine simply because it was easy to impress anyone after they’d spent the night drinking.

And because you’d spent the night drinking, you felt all weird when you looked at Eren. You weren’t upset with him—maybe disappointed. Not disappointed in him exactly, he never owed you his kindness, but disappointed by what could have been.

But now that he was here, getting shoved closer and closer with each passerby, you didn’t know what to think other than you should’ve skipped that last drink. You’d hoped to feel more like yourself the next time you saw Eren. The last thing you wanted was to get tangled up in him again; you weren’t sure you’d be able to unravel yourself a second time.

Eren took a willing pace toward you. Your gaze was boozy, eyes hazy and distant. He recognized the look and had a feeling you wouldn’t speak first, so he asked, “Were you looking for someone?”

“Hitch,” you said. There was a pause. You weren’t sure if he remembered he’d met her. “My roommate.”

“I know.”

“We were supposed to leave to get food, but I think she took a guy home,” you told him, for no reason in particular. “Last time this happened, I walked in on them doing it on the counter.”

Eren laughed, harder once your face winced at the memory, a sight seared into your brain, for sure. “You should really consider finding a new roommate.”

“And in the meantime?”

“You come back to my place,” he said, so casually that you were positive you didn’t hear him right. Your face must have given you away, and he tried to play it off with a shrug. “What’s the big deal? You’ve slept on my couch before.”

He was right. You’d fallen asleep on his couch while studying once. Okay, twice. He teased you about it, saying you got drool everywhere.

“That’s different,” you said sheepishly. “That was an accident.”

“Well, maybe you shouldn’t have fallen asleep in the first place,” he teased.

“Maybe you shouldn’t make your flashcards so boring!”

Eren liked his simple flashcards. He actually preferred them. Not everyone needed to spend more time color-coding and highlighting their flashcards than studying them.

He tilted his head with the sort of look that said, stop being so stubborn. "Fine. Then how about you tell me how to make them look nicer on the way to my place? I was just about to leave, anyway.”

He took a step backward, daring you to follow, and then another, until he turned on one foot and headed for the front door. He knew you’d follow him, and thoughtlessly, you did, trailing right behind.

You called out to him, “You don’t really need them now, do you? The class is over.”

“I just thought you might need ‘em.” Eren bounded down the porch steps, tossing a glance over his shoulder, ready to catch the expression you’d make when he said, “Figured you had to retake the class.”

You wished you had shoved him down the steps, but he had already crossed the lawn. He walked with longer strides than you and didn’t seem concerned about whether you could keep up.

“Thanks for that,” you replied begrudgingly.

“Anytime.”

It didn’t take long for you to near campus. You walked along the main drag, lined with various bars and late-night bites that thrived in the college town’s nightlife. It made it impossible to tell the time, what with every club still playing music loud enough to thrum in your chest, its beat perfectly in tempo with your every step—those of which were still struggling to match Eren’s.

“Did you still want to get food?” he asked.

“Hm?” You couldn’t hear him over your shuffling, your feet dragging against the sidewalk. They’d started hurting hours ago, and this jaunt certainly wasn’t making it better. You really shouldn’t have worn the new shoes you received over the holidays.

“You never listen, do you?” Eren didn’t say it with annoyance but with a laugh. “I’m surprised you’ve made it this far.”

“No, you just mumble a lot,” you defended. “And for your information, I’m not retaking anatomy. I passed with a C.”

“A C-plus or a C-minus?”

“Plus,” you said with inflated, drunken confidence.

“I’ll alert the media,” Eren replied. You stuck your tongue out at him, though you knew he wouldn’t see it. “Now tell me, did you still want to get food or not?”

“I didn’t think it was still an option.”

“‘Course it is.” He finally looked back at you from over his shoulder, just in time to watch you stumble over a crack in the sidewalk. “I think you could use something to eat.”

Eren rounded the next corner, a block short of the street he lived on, and led you a few doors down to a diner, breakfast served 24 hours. You expected to flag down a street vendor over sitting down to eat, but you couldn’t complain about some drunk pancakes.

Eren chose the booth in the back after the hostess instructed you to seat yourselves. The place was small and smelled of stale coffee—just as any diner would at this hour. And stale or not, you knew you’d need to down a mug or two if you wanted to sober up.

The server flipped your ceramic mug over and filled it to the brim. If it were nine in the morning, steam would pour out like it did in the movies, but you didn’t want to know how long this coffee had sat out.

You took it with cream, then dumped some sugar in, too. Reaching for a second packet, you caught Eren staring as you tore it open, hands folded around his mug.

“Something the matter?” you asked.

“Want any coffee with your sugar?”

“Ha-ha.” You added the sugar, now out of spite. When you took your first sip, it tasted as bitter as you expected.

Now that you were off your feet, the pain gnawed at you. You wiggled your shoes down, just enough for your heels to slip free from the backs. But it wasn’t enough. You couldn’t bear to keep them on another second—the diner was empty anyway. Once they were off, your feet pulsed as if they had their own heartbeat. 

The server took your order before disappearing again, only making rounds to offer a warm-up here or there, one of which you accepted. This time, when you added another packet of sugar, Eren kept his comments to himself. There was a lapse in conversation, one you spent fiddling with the paper scraps.

“You know,” he started. You peered up from the wad you’d rolled between your thumb and forefinger. He sat back in the booth, looking out the window with a quiet sort of chuckle. “I thought you hated me when we first met.”

You matched the laugh, yours more disbelieving. “Hated you? I don’t think I knew you enough to hate you.”

As if he were thinking aloud, he said, “You were always so quiet.”

“Being quiet doesn’t mean you hate someone.”

Eren’s eyes flashed from the window to you. “Then what does it mean?”

It was easier to talk to him when he wasn’t looking at you. His gaze felt smothering. You avoided him, your attention retreating down to the spoon you twirled anxiously around your mug. The clanging of ceramic was the only sound between you because you still hadn’t responded.

“I don’t know,” you said, hoping you would have come up with a more profound answer by now. “It just means you’re quiet, I guess.”

A short stack of pancakes interrupted Eren, slid right between the two of you and decorated with a gooey scoop of butter. He’d only ordered a coffee, even after you insisted on paying as a thank-you for tonight, so once the server left, Eren was quick to jump back into the conversation, much to your dismay.

“But you’re not quiet, and you’re not all that shy either,” he told you like he’d caught you in a lie. You urged him on with a raised brow. He scoffed. “Don’t give me that. I know that’s not you. I saw you dancing tonight.”

Your hand stalled as you reached for the syrup. “You saw me dancing?”

He played it off with, “Well, yeah. My so-called quiet lab partner actually knows how to dance? It just surprised me, that’s all.”

“If you saw me earlier,” you said, forking a slice of pancake, “why didn’t you come and say hi?”

Strike that—Eren almost played it off. He couldn’t hide his shifty eyes, or how long it took him to excuse it away. “Oh, I think someone grabbed me for a game of beer pong or something. I don’t remember.”

That never happened. Eren knew it, and it looked like you knew it, too. The truth was he didn’t go up and talk to you because he’d spent the last two weeks convincing himself he wasn’t into you. The party turned out to be the ultimate test of willpower, which he so evidently failed.

Eren even went as far as reinstalling all the dating apps he’d long sworn off. He dumbly assumed if he went on a date, maybe even brought a girl home, then he’d be in the clear; he wouldn’t think about you anymore. But by the time dinner was over, Eren knew there wasn’t any use in taking things further. He’d spent the evening comparing her to you, finding himself every time she laughed because it didn’t sound like yours.

Then he saw you tonight. Of course, he had to see you tonight. And of all the things you could have been doing, you were dancing. Having fun, enjoying yourself. He favored you like that, when you were carefree. You were nothing like the girl he thought he met in class.

And when Eren heard your laugh—strangely more remarkable than any other, like he’d gone deaf to anything but you—he couldn’t even remember why he tried to stay away from you.

But here you were, seated across the booth from him, cheeks stuffed with pancakes, and he had no clue what he was supposed to do next. He’d spent the entire walk wrangling with himself, scared that if he had you, even in the most innocent of ways, he wouldn’t be able to get enough.

Eren knew he shouldn’t be thinking like this, not yet, because—fuck, what if you still didn’t want him back?

Eren only lied about beer pong because he couldn’t outright confess to needing a drink before talking to you. He was so close to getting away with it, too. If you’d gone for another bite a second earlier, if he’d thought to take a sip of coffee to cover his face, maybe you wouldn’t have spotted the flushed bridge of his nose. So subtle yet telling enough that you had to bite your inner lip to prevent a smile.

You held your fork before your face, inspecting the square of pancake as a string of syrup dripped onto the plate. You were rather flippant about it when you finally told Eren, “It’s because I had a crush on you.” 

“Huh?”

You plopped the pancake into your mouth, chewing so slowly that it nearly killed Eren. Once you swallowed, you finally said, “I had a crush on you. That’s why I was so quiet.”

Eren said nothing in return, even with you staring him straight in the face, expectant. You waited—for what felt like an eternity but was more like a second—until you couldn’t take the ambivalence any longer.

Your half-laugh fell flat as you went on to explain, “That, and you always got better grades than me. I didn’t want you to think I was dumb.”

Almost as if he didn’t hear it, still fixed on what you’d said before, he asked, “Do you still?”

It was a simple question, just three words, yet he said so much more than intended.

You knew what he was asking, but you played dumb. “Still what?”

“Have a crush on me.”

You thought it over while you took another bite, eyes on him like he already had the answer. He did. You both did. Still, you let the question hang heavy between you for another moment. You weren’t entirely ready to lay your cards on the table. Yet.

You tossed him a small smile as you answered, “To be determined.”

Eren nodded once, lips folded together in a similar sort of grin. “Got it.”

That didn’t mean your answer satisfied him, though. He watched as you took another sip of coffee, then immediately reached for another sugar packet. Before you could pour it in, he shielded the mug.

“But you better figure it out before all that sugar kills you.”

You swatted him away. “Yeah, it’ll definitely be the sugar that kills me, not the keg stand I started the night with.”

“You did a keg stand?”

He said it like he didn’t believe you. You giggled, “Only because Hitch talked me into it.”

Eren laughed with you despite shaking his head. “See, what did I say? You surprise me.”

You had only taken a few hobbles out of the diner before your heels started hurting again. The pain intensified with every step, and you sucked your teeth sharply. You noticed two fresh blisters, one on each heel, when you put your shoes back on before leaving, but thought you could handle the short walk to Eren’s house. But now, you wished you were still drunk enough to ignore the burn.

“Everything okay back there?” Eren asked.

You were behind him again, but not because of his long strides. “Yeah.”

He thought it sounded unconvincing. He looked back to confirm his hunch just in time to see you stumble.

“It’s my shoes,” you said. “I’m sorry.”

He stopped walking, turning to you. “Why are you apologizing?”

You stammered, “I don’t know.”

“Just take ‘em off.”

“I’m not going to walk around barefoot.”

“Didn’t say you had to.”

You didn’t get what he was saying, even less when he turned his back to you. Then, when he bent slightly at the knee, it made sense.

He couldn’t be serious right now. 

“My house isn’t that far. I’ll carry you there.”

Okay. He was being serious. He was ready and willing to give you a piggyback ride.

You didn’t intend to laugh, but it was only because this situation was so ridiculous—and partly because of your own anxiety, fizzling at the thought alone.

Eren took it differently, shooting you a playfully offended look when he said, “What? You think I can’t carry you?” He straightened out, shoved his hands into his pockets, and began walking away. “Fine. Suit yourself.”

“Wait!”

You wanted to blame it on your feet or because you didn’t want to slow him down, but you had to be honest with yourself—aching feet or not, were you really going to pass on this opportunity?

Eren flashed a smile over his shoulder. “That’s what I thought.”

Ignoring his boasting, you ripped off your shoes. He took them from you in one hand, and then let you hop onto his back. His body didn’t give like you would expect, and his arms felt sturdy as they looped around your thighs.

You hadn’t had a piggyback ride since you were probably eleven years old, but you didn’t remember them feeling anything like this. Eren’s neck was warm against your arms, exceptionally so in the crisp night air. His hands were even hotter, having you convinced they’d sear themselves into the backs of your thighs.

He jostled you forward, higher onto his back. “Hold on tighter or else you’re gonna fall off.”

You hugged him, pressing your chest against his back. You’d never been this close to him before, close enough that his hair, only loosely tied back, brushed against your face. Faint notes of his cologne—warm like amber, but there was something you found refreshing about it—tickled your nose. You drew in closer, inhaling the scent, him. 

Eren worried you might have felt the roll of his throat when your breath broke over the nape of his neck. How embarrassing that something as innocent as a piggyback ride could send his heart racing. As if suddenly, he was back in junior high, and it was his first time holding a girl’s hand all over again.

If this was all he’d have of you tonight, or ever, he’d be happy with just that. Even if it meant he’d wake up with a sore back. He wanted to earn your heart, even if he wasn’t so sure your crush had ever gone away. 

The house was too dark for you to make out a thing. You stilled in the entryway, just behind Eren, and waited for him to walk ahead.

Not a second later, he flipped a light on from the kitchen. Your eyes adjusted after a few blinks, and he appeared again from around the corner. He wore a look of trepidation, staring at you like you were a lost puppy he’d taken in and didn’t know what to do with.

“Can I get you some water?”

“Sure,” you replied. “Thank you.”

He waved a hand toward the sofa, saying, “Make yourself at home,” before disappearing again. 

You’d hardly made yourself comfortable by the time he returned. You didn’t even realize how rigid your arms were until you uncrossed them to reach for the water bottle Eren handed you.

He sat on the other side of the old couch and it squeaked beneath his weight. 

“I imagine you wouldn’t want to sleep on the couch in a house full of guys,” he started, settling into the couch. “Take my room, if you want. I can sleep out here.”

You almost choked on your water, immediately shaking your head. “I’m not going to take your bed.” You couldn’t, possibly. You’d never even been in his room before. “You didn’t even need to go to the trouble of letting me stay the night.”

“Out of all my troubles,” Eren said with a certain warmth to his face, “you staying the night is the least of them.”

You smiled at him. You smiled at him, and you had no clue how it pulled at his heart. It was shy, no greater than a curl of the very corner of your mouth, yet he craved nothing more than to feel the shape of it under his lips and memorize the taste. 

“Okay.” You finally gave in. You could have ended it there, and you probably should have, but you nervously rambled on, “But, really, if it’s too much—if you want me to go, I can call a—”

“I don’t want you to go.”

You stammered, opening and closing your mouth as you pretended you had any clue what you’d say next. Something changed; you didn’t know what. An energy shift, a new glint in his eyes—that look he was giving you.

Maybe it was more accurate to say that everything had changed.

There wasn’t much air to your voice when you said, “I don’t want to go either.”

Your admission was barely a whisper. So delicate that Eren wasn’t even sure you intended to say it aloud. Your eyes were big and genuine, like you had revealed some vulnerable part of you. He couldn’t look away, risking losing what little composure you hadn’t stolen from him yet.

You liked him like that—getting to witness such an unguarded look on a face that was always hardened. Soft and electric, all at once. You never thought he’d look at you in such a way, only in your dreams, and you didn’t want it to end. 

Now or never.

“Eren?”

“Yeah?” His voice was just as taken as yours.

You knew yourself as anything but bold, but right then, you were. Purring your words when you asked him, “Why are you always so nice to me?”

The distant light from the kitchen cast shadows along the angles of his jaw, highlighting how it tensed.

“Am I?” Eren asked. His voice had gained a new rasp.

You nodded.

“How so?”

“You know,” you said slowly, knowingly, leaning into him. “You walk me home when I’m drunk. Carry me when my feet hurt.” You tucked your legs beneath you, sitting back on your calves, knees bumping up against his thigh. “You let me spend the night, even offer me your bed.”

Eren thought you might kiss him right then, but you only giggled. “Not to mention, you tutored me in anatomy for an entire semester without complaining once.”

You rested a daring hand on his leg. He looked from it to you before teasing, “I think I might’ve complained once.”

He moved with you, at your pace. He cupped your cheek, and you tried not to melt into him.

“But I can’t help myself.” His thumb traced over your skin. “You’re very cute when you’re drunk and when you’re proud of yourself for passing a quiz.” He unexpectedly grins. “And when you hold your book too close to your face when you read.”

“I don’t do that.”

“Yes, you do.” 

You didn’t press the subject any further because it didn’t matter; you were so close that the tips of your noses were nearly brushing against each other. With your face still in his hand, he swiped his thumb along your bottom lip. Unwittingly, you wetted them like you wanted a taste.

Neither of you wanted to be the first to crumble the wall, the one you spent a semester building together, so tall that there were times you couldn’t see over it.

You might have been feeling courageous, but you knew you’d regret it the next time you saw Eren on campus. You could see it now, the smug smile he’d give you from across the hall, or the far side of the green—wherever you’d inevitably bump into him again. He’d turn you into a puddle right on the spot. 

That didn’t concern you. Not after you heard the needful groan he stifled from the very back of his throat, and you desperately wanted to hear it again.

Eren caressed your face. You tilted into him until your forehead pressed against his, and you could feel his breath on your lips.

“I still have a crush on you,” you whispered.

“Yeah, I know.” He wasn’t cocky about it, but soft. He sounded relieved. 

Your hand left his thigh, traveling higher until you had it splayed against his chest. The muscles twitched beneath your touch. Eren couldn’t help but wonder if you knew what you were doing to him, how insane you’d driven him. You had to.

“So,” you said, long and drawn-out.

Your fingers toyed with the fabric of his shirt, the tips of them grazing and pinching like you wanted to yank him to you.

“Are you going to do something about it?”

Spoken like a true temptress, like a lioness playing with her food. You let your gaze linger intentionally long before locking onto his eyes.

Eren nearly gulped. “Fuck—c’mere.”

The hand he had on your face slipped higher. His fingers wrapped around the back of your head to pull you to him.

What you thought would be a crash of lips was much more affectionate. Instead of kissing you as if he believed he could make up for lost time, he kissed you softly, thoughtfully, like he knew he had all the time in the world with you now.

Your lips parted to invite his tongue in, hot and licking against your own. Your head spun, but not because of the alcohol. Attempting to ground yourself, you snatched a fistful of his shirt with a trembling hand. But the longer he made out with you, taking his time with seemingly no destination in mind, the more helpless you became.

“Eren.” It left you in a gasp, swallowed up before it had the chance to meet the air.

He angled your head slightly, exposing your neck for him to explore. He kissed the corner of your mouth, then your cheek. Then you felt his lips at the hollow below your ear, gasping as his teeth skimmed lower.

“Hm?” he hummed, unbothered. Like he was oblivious to how turned on you were, how just his breath against your skin had your thighs clenching.

“That’s why you didn’t want me to leave, right?” Your voice warbled as you spoke, eyes fluttering shut as he began mouthing along your neck, sucking like he wanted to leave a bruise. 

You palmed lower, over the front of his jeans. He was hard, straining against them, and you massaged over his length a few times. You waited and listened for his breath to falter before reaching for his zipper.

“Because you’ve thought about this before,” you murmured. With his jeans undone, you snuck your hand inside his boxer, wrapping your fingers around his cock. You nuzzled your face just below his jaw, peppering kisses, noting his quickening pulse as you began stroking him, base to tip. “Because you were hoping this would happen.”

“Yes,” Eren groaned. He would have tried to hold it back, but he was already staving off his urge to rut into your hand.

“I was, too,” you confessed.

That broke him. Before he knew it, he had you pinned between him and the couch.

Your back hit the cushion with another whine from the springs, louder and more obnoxious than before. When Eren kissed you this time, he didn’t want to take his time with you anymore. Not after hearing that you wanted him in the same ways he needed you.

The couch quickly became too cramped for your liking, with limbs slipping and spilling until you thought you might fall to the floor. Only when your kiss broke—because your head was dangling over the edge of the sofa—did you have a moment to catch your breath, or at least try to.

“You said,” you panted, collecting yourself. “You said I could sleep in your room.” Eren nodded, eyes hazy as he looked down at you. “Maybe you should show me to it now…”

He stalled, his brain short-circuiting for the obvious reason before he picked up on your heavy-handed implication.

“Yeah, okay.”

Eren helped you upright before you untangled yourselves from one another. You climbed the stairs in a hurry, tripping over your feet because you couldn’t imagine keeping your hands off each other. You followed just behind him, your hand in his, as he led you to his bedroom. 

Eren helped you upright before you untangled yourselves from one another. You climbed the stairs in a hurry, tripping over your feet because you couldn’t imagine keeping your hands off each other. You followed just behind him, your hand in his, as he led you to his bedroom.

His hands were reckless as they pawed over your body, anywhere they could. Yet his touch maintained a certain firmness that had you weak in the knees, struggling to suppress your whimpers. Each tiny sound seemed to encourage him, riling him until he had you braced against the door, slamming it shut with your combined weight.

Eren caged you in place, with forearms planted on either side of your head. But you would have stayed there, willingly. Forever, if you could.

You almost hated yourself for how submissive you felt to him. He kissed you commandingly, yet gently enough that he could take you anywhere he pleased.

You hated yourself more for getting turned on at just the thought. 

Taking his loose, unzipped jeans between your fingers, you tugged him close, hooking a leg around his waist. You felt his cock pressing between your legs, ground against it because if you didn’t, you thought you might explode; you were only human, after all.

Eren’s hands gripped your ass, helping you roll against him a few times before mumbling, “Bed?”

His voice was shallow, all breathless, like his lungs were running on empty. You liked this version of him—when he was needy for you. 

“Bed,” you affirmed with a bob of your head.

That was all it took before Eren scooped you into his arms, whirling you around until he had you collapsed onto the bed.

You sprawled out with a stretch of your back. It felt so good to lie amongst the billowy comforter, off your feet. You nestled around, almost like you could have lulled off right then—almost.

Eren turned on his bedside lamp, and though the light was dim, you felt keenly aware of his gaze on you as you peeled off your shirt. It bunched as you snaked it over your head, its slinky fabric hugging your body, revealing your bra with a subtle bounce of your tits. Every part of it, of you, was so shamefully sexy, Eren couldn’t get enough.

His hands closed over yours when you reached for the button of your jeans as if to tell you, let me do it. You allowed it, watching as he opened the front of them. His fingers glided along your stomach until he reached your hips. From there, he pulled the fitted denim down your legs. You kicked them to the side once they’d reached your ankles.

The sight of you, ready and beneath him, had him overwhelmed, to say the least. He didn’t know where to look—he didn’t even know where to start.

His fingertips, though lightly calloused, felt exceedingly gentle as he trailed them over your bare skin. So softly that if you closed your eyes, you might not even know he was there. He started just beneath the underwire of your bra, then down the length of your stomach. At your hip, his touch tickled, and you squirmed so cutely beneath him.

Eren wanted to say something witty, but the sight of you stirring below him had him spacey, leaving him quiet. Even the chuckle he gave was practically inaudible, just a huff through his nose. 

Despite the fog, Eren had a fleeting moment of lucidity. He blinked, hard, like it would clear his head. You struggled to read him, staring at you like you’d given him reason to be suspicious.

Then he asked, “How are you?”

You mirrored his suspicion, eyebrows knitting together. “I’m good. Um, how are you?” 

His face scrunched like he was about to say, not good. It made you nervous.

You perched on your elbows, interested, waiting on him. He ran his fingers through his hair, the same way he always did when he was trying to concentrate.

“We’re a little past exchanging pleasantries, don’t you think?” you joked, mainly because you didn’t know what else you were supposed to say.

“No, that’s not what I meant.” Eren brought his hand to his forehead like he could capture his thoughts before they slipped away. “Like, I mean—” Coherency was hard, especially with you laid out before him, head tilted with curiosity, staring up at him through pretty, heavy lashes. Had they always been that long?

Finally, he blurted out, “Are you still drunk?”

You were relieved to learn nothing was wrong. You thought over your answer, taking inventory of your body, every fiber of your being only wanting him.

“Not really,” you said with a slight shrug. “Those pancakes were a real lifesaver.”

He still looked hesitant. You took his hand, giving it a small squeeze before smiling at him. “I want this. Like really, really want this.”

Eren let out a short laugh that softened you up even more. With your assurance, his fingers began dancing along your skin again, pulling lightly at the band of your underwear. He played with it, his once-boyish expression turning more brazen as he asked, “Then is it okay for me to touch you here?” 

His voice was gruff, the timbre of it still ringing between your ears. You couldn’t help the sound it pulled from you. A sweet little moan, so delicious that Eren felt his cock twitch before he could even remove your underwear.

“Yes,” you murmured, eyes fixed on him, on his fingers. They pushed beneath your panties despite your hope that he’d simply take them off.

That single, breathy word gave Eren the go-ahead. He crawled over you, holding himself up with his free hand. Propped on your elbows, your face was inches away from his. So close that with just the tilt of your head, you were kissing him again. 

Eren’s fingers ventured lower, sweeping between you teasingly, but it was as if he was teasing himself.

"You’re so wet,” he groaned, still playing with you. He’d circle your clit until your jaw went slack, then remove the pressure just to trace your entrance. “All for me?”

“Mhm.” You exhaled indulgently when his fingers returned to your clit, rubbing languidly. When you lifted your hips for more, his circles became tighter, quicker, giving you exactly what you needed. You let go then, allowing your wobbly elbows to give out.

Eren chased after you, nipping down your neck until he found the spot he’d learned you liked best, especially when he sucked on it. He yanked a sharp whine from you, another as he continued leaving hot, open-mouthed kisses along your throat.

Eren, Eren, Eren. You were consumed by thoughts of him, only him. Consumed by how good he made you feel and every place you wanted him.

And when you cried out, “Ah—all for you,” you certainly weren’t thinking about how desperate you sounded for a guy who’d been nothing more than your lab partner until tonight. 

That did it for him. In one impulsive motion, Eren stood up straight, hooked his fingers around the band of your panties, and tore them off with ease. Once they were out of his way, lost amongst your other garments, his hand was rightfully back between your legs.

He pumped his middle finger inside you first, curling it just right to have your back arching, your breath already hitching in your throat.

You thought he’d be arrogant about it, how he already had you, quite literally, bending to his will. But he’d already lost himself in you, every bit of you. Your tiny gasps, spilling from kiss-swollen lips. Your bra and the way its straps had limply started falling down your shoulder, exposing the supple skin of your chest. How pretty your cunt looked, taking his finger.

His pace ignited that familiar feeling within you, but as quickly as it started burning in your stomach, you’d lost it just as fast. 

With a frustrated sob, you opened your eyes to see why he’d rudely edged you like that.

Eren yanked his shirt over his head and threw it aside. “I wanna go down on you.”

You felt his words hot at the back of your neck—either that or it was the sight of his deceivingly toned stomach. Whatever it was, you couldn’t decide before Eren started stripping from his jeans. And if you were still unsure why you’d clammed up, the tent in his boxers, large and threatening to undo you, was most certainly it.

You tried your best to look at his face when you asked, “Don’t you think we should be fast? All of your roommates are home.”

That was the last thing Eren wanted. He wanted to have you, all to himself, for as long as you’d allow. But that was easy for him to say now; his willpower had already started waning.

“They’re sleeping. Don’t worry about them.” Eren thumbed circles against your inner thigh encouragingly, making it difficult to say no to him. At least until he cracked his usual devilish smile. “I thought you said you were quiet.”

The daggers you shot him said enough. You had only started to quip something back when Eren shut you up. He leaned over you, encasing you in his warmth. You felt his lips, his tongue, at your neck, running along the silky skin.

He sucked at the lobe of your ear, and the airy giggle you gave traveled straight to his cock. He kissed your collarbone as he tugged down the cups of your bra. Though his breath was warm, it sent goosebumps scattering across your chest. His tongue flicked over one of your perked nipples, and you rewarded him with a moan—even louder once he took it into his mouth.

You were so, so sensitive. All for him, too. Eren craved to discover every nook on your body he could kiss and every sound you’d make in response. He wanted to learn every last part of you, especially the ones that would have you wrecked. 

He continued kissing down your stomach, with him lowering to his knees on the ground. Taking your legs, one in each hand, he pulled them back to make room to settle between. He placed them over his shoulders, bringing you in until your bottom half hung off the side of the bed.

Eren palmed over your thighs. He left kisses there, too, his lips so close to where you wanted him the most.

“Let me taste you.” His voice was a quiet plead. He pressed a kiss against your inner thigh, then another, with his eyes fluttering shut like he wanted to savor you. “Please.”

You’d lost your voice somewhere in your throat. You could only nod in response—a bit too eagerly, perhaps. Eren gleamed up at you. He clearly wanted to smirk but was smart enough not to risk it this time. 

You’d felt only his breath at first. It quelled the chill bedroom air. Next, it was the very tip of his tongue. Pointed, it ran through you, painfully slow but still enough for you to suck in a breath between your teeth.

“Spread your legs wider for me.” You did as you were told, completely at his mercy. It must have pleased him because you swore you felt him grin against you as he praised, “Good girl.”

You made an embarrassing sound at that. One you didn’t expect. Eren surely didn’t expect it either, but it excited him, knowing how you were weak to his words, to his voice. To him.

With you now fully on display for him, he couldn’t resist burying his face into you, even if he had fully intended to tease you longer. His tongue flicked your clit, sending pulses of electricity shooting up your spine.

You shifted your hips, raising them to meet his mouth. His tongue was steady, never slowing once as he leaned into a rhythm you liked, that had your fingers laced in his hair and undoing his bun. With just a little more, angling and guiding his tongue to just the right spot, it was like you suddenly saw sparks of white behind your eyelids. 

“Eren—ah,” you panted frantically, “right there.”

He had the flat of his tongue against your clit, lapping in tandem with your rocking hips until your thighs began shaking.

“I got you,” he said, wrapping his arms around your legs and locking you into place. “Just relax for me.”

Eren continued having you feverishly, filling the bedroom with a mixture of your wispy cries and groans of his own. It was as if he was just as desperate for you to come as you felt, worshipping every squeak and squirm he could get from you.

“I-I’m—”

His eyes meet yours. You looked breathless, your mouth hanging open in a vain attempt at pulling in tattered breaths. When he let go of your thighs, they dropped to his shoulders.

Not breaking his pace, his thumb replaced his tongue so he could ask, “You need more?”

You swallowed hard and nodded.

“You want my fingers?” His thumb left your clit. You mourned the loss only for him to trace a finger down your entrance before dipping it inside you.

“Oh, fuck.” You writhed in response. “Yes.”

He used two fingers this time, collecting his spit and your slick before pushing them inside you. There was little resistance as he worked his fingers in and out of you. He returned to tonguing your clit, giving it a few kitten licks before picking up right where he left off.

You were getting close, so close, and if time could allow for it, you would have stayed like that forever, just shy of becoming entirely undone. 

There were many times, admittedly, when you imagined Eren having his way with you, wondering what it’d feel like for him to finger and fuck you. But never did you think he’d beg to have you like this, nor did you imagine the sight to absolutely ruin you. 

There were many times, admittedly, when you imagined Eren having his way with you, wondering what it’d feel like for him to finger and fuck you. But never did you think he’d beg to have you like this, nor did you imagine the sight to absolutely ruin you.

Eren’s face flushed a blossomy pink, spanning across his cheeks. You were so wet; he was so wet. Soaked, actually, in your arousal—a mess you might have cared more about if you weren’t about to come.

His green eyes, darkened like you’d never seen before, found yours, and he moaned. He felt pathetic for it, but what had him feeling even more pathetic was how he couldn’t stop himself from shoving his boxers down his thighs. He took hold of himself, seeking any semblance of relief because you were possibly the hottest thing he’d ever seen. But he knew you’d look even better coming on his tongue.

You whimpered when you saw him fisting his cock, nice and fast. He was so hard for you, and you weren’t shy about staring. You couldn’t even fake it, too curious to see exactly how he liked it, watching him fuck his fist with quick breaks to give extra attention to his sensitive tip. You thought about how he’d fuck you, how he’d like it then, and it sent you over the edge.

Your cries came out choppy and strained until your voice cut out entirely. You sobbed silently, carelessly, rolling your hips over Eren’s tongue and using him. You wanted to drag out the feeling for as long as you could. By the end, you were quivering, exhausted, and could no longer keep your eyes open.

Eren had to stop pumping himself, or else he would have come from that alone. He sat back onto his calves, one of his hands palming over your thigh while the other soothed your clit, just to ease you back down. You looked like you needed it, all wrecked, legs limply spread for him, just like he hoped.

God, he annoyed himself for pretending he never wanted you because you—you were a dream.

The only thing that could wake him from such a dream was your voice.

“Eren?”

He loved it when you said his name.

You sat up to look at him properly, but it felt like there were a ton of bricks on your chest. Eren appeared quite the opposite, entirely unfazed. He had his cheek smushed against your thigh, staring unabashedly at the finger he lazily pushed back inside you. You jolted at the intrusion, still sensitive; he could tell by the way your muscles spasmed around his finger.

The feeling mesmerized him: you sucking him in for more. He didn’t even look at you when he replied, “Hm?”

You would’ve thought knowing his eyes were on you would embarrass you, but you were still so touchy from your orgasm that the winding feeling had already returned. It coiled in your stomach, begging to be snapped again.

“I want you to fuck me.”

Eren loved hearing that even more.

He finally looked at you then, and you imagined that if he were a dog, his ears would have perked up like you said the magic words.

“What was that?” he asked, more playfully than you expected. You didn’t like it, not with the grin he wore to match. “I couldn’t hear you. You were mumbling.”

“You heard me the first time.”

He ran his finger teasingly up the crease of your thigh. “Say it again.”

It tickled. You fussed, “Eren, come on—”

“No, I don’t think that was it. I think you said something else.”

“Just—” You sighed dramatically before giving in. “I want you to fuck me. Please fuck me, Eren.”

He beamed at you, proud of both you and himself. He grabbed his boxers, still sitting mid-thigh, and removed them entirely.

“Now that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

Eren stood up and didn’t give you the chance to respond before flipping you onto your stomach. You felt his hand on your shoulder, squeezing it reassuringly. His fingers skated lower, down to your bra before undoing its clasp. When you pushed yourself to your forearms, you felt your bra fall, its straps hanging loosely around your arms.

“You look so pretty like this,” he told you as he grabbed your hips, raising you to your knees. He stroked himself a few more times with one hand and smacked your ass with the other.

“Eren!” you yelped. “Roommates!”

“I thought I told you not to worry about them,” he said, punctuated with another smack.

The print of his hand still stung when you heard rustling behind you. You peered over your shoulder to see him tearing open a condom. He rolled it over his cock, and all the while, his eyes kept you—naked and with your ass in the air for him—pinned to the bed. 

He flattened a hand against your lower back, putting an arch in it. With the other, he spread you, aligning the tip of his cock with your entrance.

Eren guided himself in more slowly than he wanted to, listening to you whine as you adjusted to his length. It was a bit of a stretch, but it was easy enough for him to push inside, having already prepped you with his fingers, leaving you aching for him to fill you with more.

When his pelvis was flush against you, he felt your walls flutter around him, squeezing his cock so perfectly he thought you must be made for him. A groan bubbled in his throat, low enough that it was nearly a growl. The sound made your heart skip, right between your lungs, so you clenched again to encourage another.

“You’re gonna make me come if you keep doing that,” Eren hissed.

“Doing what?” you asked innocently. Then you did it again.

Despite the warning, he didn’t protest it. Instead, he started moving, thrusting into you leisurely. He was self-indulgent about it too, spreading you with his hands so he could admire how well your cunt looked with his cock in it.

“God, you feel so fucking good,” he muttered, quiet enough that it was as if he were talking to himself. “So fucking good.”

“Eren.” The whine in your voice drove him crazy.

His hands, large and demanding, curved over your hips. The blunt end of his nails dug into the fat of them as he pulled you back to meet every snap of his hips. The indecent smacking of skin-on-skin bounced off the bedroom walls. You didn’t complain this time, only let your head drop between your shoulders. Your eyes screwed shut as you became lost in the throes of pleasure all over again.

“Eren,” you cried again.

He didn’t stop fucking you to ask, “What is it?” 

He folded over you, his hand snaking up to your neck and taking hold of your chin. He turned your face to look at him, so he could see what you wanted. You couldn’t form anything other than wimpy chants of ah, ah, ah, sounding mangled as he squished your cheeks.

“Tell me how you want it.”

His words alone made you bite back a moan.

Finally, you managed to say, “Harder.”

Eren smiled, all slack-jawed and toothy. You would have found it irresistible, yet totally ill-fitting if you could have seen it. But how else was he to react?

He placed a kiss on the back of your neck, then another on your shoulder. It was unexpectedly doting, until you felt his fingers curve around your throat. Though you knew what was coming, you still squealed when he hoisted you upright, with your back sealed against his chest. 

Eren held you there, fucking up into you, harder, like you asked him. Your flimsy bra flopped around your arms with each of his thrusts. He groped at your breast, taking your nipple between his fingers, rolling and pinching at it until you were mewling.

He continued taking you as if you’d always been his, and you let him have you. You let him use you like you only existed for his pleasure, with your head feeling heavy as it lolled back against him.

But you were so much more than that, and Eren was determined to make you come again. He wanted to feel it.

“Touch yourself,” Eren breathed, right into your ear. The hairs on the back of your neck stood up. “I want to hear you when you come this time.”

Your hand slithered between your legs. The very tips of your fingers bumped into Eren’s cock as you got yourself off. Legs wavering at the added pressure, you were practically vibrating when you came, your heart pounding in your ears. There was no doubt he heard you this time around.

It was difficult to remain upright. You fell from Eren’s hold, landing on the bed forcefully with him toppling right over you. You were still riding out the aftershocks of your orgasm as he fucked you into the mattress, and it had your thighs squeezing together so nicely for him.

“I’m—ah, fuck—I’m close,” Eren grunted.

It surprised you when he pulled out, but it didn’t take long before you realized he was rolling you onto your back. Eren manhandled you like you were weightless; he had your arms tossed above your head, pinned in place with a single hand around your wrist. He pushed back inside you, hard and fast, with a bead of sweat rolling down his forehead.

“I need to see you.”

Your stomach flipped at his words like they were poetry. Fuck. He had you so irrevocably wrapped around his finger. And maybe you were merely lovelorn and looking for something that wasn’t there, but you swore he looked as though he were just as ensnared as you.

Your mouth sought out his in a sloppy kiss. It was suckling lips and colliding teeth, smothered grunts and groans as you ground against one another, but you didn’t care; you enjoyed every messy, frantic minute of it.

You wanted to touch him, wriggling until he released his hold on your wrists. You took his face between your hands. His eyes were moony and heavy-lidded and had you swooning.

“Fuck, Eren—I want you to come,” you gasped.

Easy enough.

He came hard. As perverted as it sounded, you wished you had a camera. You wanted to remember how his eyes snapped shut, to record every sound. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, his hips stuttering against you as if he could reach any deeper. 

His breath was hot against your already sweltering skin. It was hard to breathe, especially under his weight, but you wanted to hold him for a little longer.

Neither of you spoke for a while. You didn’t realize you’d been grazing your fingers up and down the back of his neck until he lifted himself off you. He let his gaze linger on your face, like he wanted one last look, then nudged his nose against yours before getting up.

You laid still, only watching while Eren straightened out and disposed of the condom. Your legs felt too soft and lazy to move, so you only let your eyes follow him as he stepped into a pair of sweatpants.

"The invitation to stay the night still stands, right?” you lightly sassed.

“No, I was actually going to call you an Uber home.” Eren rolled his eyes. “Of course it does. What kind of guy do you think I am?”

You giggled as you pushed yourself up. “Where’s your bathroom?”

“Down the hallway, last door on the right.” He took one look at you, then started digging around in his dresser. He tossed something at you, aiming it at your head by the looks of it. You snatched it just in time. It was one of his T-shirts. “You can wear that.”

You held it by the sleeves, inspecting it. “Is that weird?”

“It wasn’t until you asked that.” 

You pulled the tee over your head before adjusting it. Your underwear came next, but you felt more hesitant about the jeans.

Eren noticed, assuring you, “They’re sleeping, I promise,” as he put on a shirt of his own. “Just be quick.”

“Okay.” You left, but poked your head back in to say, “I’m leaving the door cracked so I know which room is yours.”

He laughed. “All right.”

You followed his instructions, even trying to be quick about it, too. You peed, washed your hands, and only stared at your bruising collarbone for ten seconds before rushing back down the hall.

Eren was in bed when he saw the door swing open. “Look at you, Ms. C-plus, not getting lost.”

You pulled a face. “Whatever, Brian.”

Right on cue, he complained, “It was one time.” You mouthed it along with him. 

For whatever reason, you didn’t crawl into bed with him right away. You felt a bit like a deer in headlights, blinking at Eren as you waited for something. You didn’t know what. He looked sleepy, with his hair still unkempt from your fingers. Seeing him like this, with you dressed in his shirt, about to curl up under his sheets—were you supposed to go along with this like it was normal?

When you finally thought of something to say, Eren cut in first. “You can’t seriously try to take the couch after that.”

That was exactly what you were about to do. He chuckled, knowing he was right by the purse of your lips. He lifted the blanket for you—once again, like this was entirely normal for you—and said, “Get over here already. I’m cold.”

Eren was extremely difficult to say no to, but you knew that already. You got into his bed with no contest and let him lay the comforter over you.

Either his pillows were just that soft or you felt that exhausted because your eyes went heavy almost immediately. Eren reached over you to turn out the light, but let his arm fall on top of you. He hugged your waist, not hesitating to pull you into him.

He nuzzled into the back of your neck, pulling a giggle from you. “Are you always this clingy after sex?”

Eren hummed an affirmative sound, tickling you again.He was most definitely never this clingy after sex. But there was no way he could keep his hands to himself, not with how good you looked in his shirt, just barely long enough to cover anything. Maybe his intentions in lending you a shirt weren’t entirely pure—so sue him. You wearing his clothes was a sight he could get used to. One he had a feeling he’d get to see much more often.

[alexiethymia]

MaoMao's Way of Affection

[spoilers up until LN 12 and WN 10 so read at your own risk]

After such a long time, we finally get a hint of reciprocation when even without orders or prompting, it's MaoMao herself who seeks out Jinshi after the harrowing ordeal she went through.

I'm not sure how the WN will differ from the LN but her words with how she describes Jinshi's arms around her, "heavy but not immoveable" and Jinshi asking her to make him let her go and eventually opting not such that she ends up falling asleep in his arms actually perfectly describes their relationship.

Despite their problems, I do adore this relationship. On the one hand, you have Jinshi who ends up falling for someone who cares not a whit for his appearance. MaoMao is actually the perfect person for Jinshi to fall in love with because of his complex. Should he succeed, he can be assured that his looks had nothing to do with it. For the first time in his life, Jinshi can fight for something with his own above average, but not excellent capabilities.

And tropey as it is, I think MaoMao does have a soft spot for that slightly pathetic part of Jinshi. Honestly, to compare him to the person she respects most in the whole world? A daddy's girl through and through. In other words, MaoMao, even as she denies it, is not impenetrable to that earnest side of Jinshi and because of that, even as she might snark and say she's just following orders, she can't help but be his support - a useful tool rather than a useless burden.

I love how the both of them mature and progress and how the relationship reflects that. As compared to that forceful scene back in LN5, it's actually this innocent scene that cements the progress they've made and that they're slowly meeting each other halfway. Jinshi tries to restrain himself, and MaoMao, thanks to Chue, slowly stops trying to hide behind that convenient excuse.

Because the thing is, MaoMao is a hypocrite. In the same way, she rebukes Jinshi for not being clear, she also gets to hide behind vague half-truths. Why not say no once and for all? "I don't want to be your wife." Is it just because he's the Imperial Brother? Compare and contrast how she treats Grand Marshall Kan for example. And even if he is the Imperial Brother, MaoMao knows in her heart of hearts that Jinshi wouldn't ever punish her for rejecting him. She knows, after everything, that he just isn't that kind of person (the certainty that he wouldn't ever be involved in any assassination plots, the almost unconscious instinct to prevent something she knows Jinshi wouldn't want even if it might be for the good of the country or for her own safety as long as she plays dumb). I really do love how like Suiren, MaoMao is his ally. (No wonder mother-in-law Suiren approves.)

Isn't it more painful - for Jinshi - and more troublesome - for her - to continue to have this hanging between them? But MaoMao is only human. There are things she knows would be the best course of action as long as she operated solely on rationality, but unexpectedly, Jinshi - despite not knowing it - brings out that irrational part of her. She knows it would have been in her best interest (if her best interest truly was to escape the marriage) to just let Jinshi continue being vague, to not put a name to his intentions, she later realizes that this is Jinshi's own consideration for her, but her true emotions push forth. She knows it - what Jinshi feels for her, compares it to a lovestruck patron, so what gain does she get from hearing it verbalized out loud?

She struggles with his special consideration for her, the proof of deeper feelings, in his words and actions. I think she would be able to justify it in her mind and accept being his wife if she knew it was only because she was a useful tool. Because if so, then she could also justify it to herself that she was staying with him only because he was useful, that it was solely on the basis of reciprocity.

I mean the reality of the world they live in is that it's not a place to cultivate love. Marriages are political more often than not. Within MaoMao's way of looking at things, a marriage of convenience might have been more palatable. For Jinshi's part, I can see him being ready to accept that even if MaoMao does accept his proposal, she would marry him while not being in love with him. On the flip side, I think part of his strong motivation to break away from the Imperial family would be to remove, without a doubt, from MaoMao's mind that she would be punished for rejecting him since he would no longer have that power. In other words, part of Jinshi is ready for MaoMao to reject him but he wants it to be solely her choice. In other words, he would also want her to give it to him straight just like she demanded he do for her.

Speaking of special consideration, it is hard to say whether MaoMao's actions towards Jinshi are those she would do for any other patient (since she's actually softer than she gives herself credit for), but the things she does without orders are telling - like stroking his hair while putting him to sleep, kissing his cheek, ingesting something she knows she's allergic to without his knowledge for a plan to sniff out his enemies (pity this didn't make it to the LN), getting mad that his accomplishments were getting stolen from him despite him not caring about it, and glaringly - attempting to break a taboo the person she respects most in the world imposed on her, just so she can better take care of Jinshi. For all that MaoMao is comfortable in her place in the world and doesn't want to venture out of her comfort zone, calling it too troublesome, she does exceed a lot of her limits - true because of that unexpectedly strong sense of duty - but also because of or for Jinshi.

MaoMao acknowledges to herself at this point that no other person besides Jinshi can give her the same comfort. She does want to have a child someday, if only for the experience of giving birth. It may not be a burning passion, this may not be enough for her to call it love, but I can also see a scenario where she accepts Jinshi because he's the only one she would be comfortable with so that she can give birth. In other words, another convenient excuse. But conversely, even after succeeding in having MaoMao for a wife, I can see Jinshi still pushing because for once in his life he can fight his hardest and win or fail on his own merits and no one else's, and also simply put, he loves her and so he would want her to love him back. Even if it isn't the norm in the world they live in. He'd still want to continue fighting for that elusive flower. A perfect push and pull. In other words, it's up to them how they decide to meet each other half way. And I'm excited to see what the future holds for them.

[joekeeryswife]

arranged marriage 1 - f.c

hey honeys! i hope you enjoyed my last imagine. writing for Felix legit has me in a chokehold. dickhead!felix (im sorry!) mean reader at the start then she turns sweet, i also suck at endings so please ignore how bad it is and the spelling mistakes lol.

anyways, here’s another angst to fluff imagine, Felix is 22 and reader is 20! enjoy reading 🩰

taglist🩰 (add yourselves here): @hummusxx @lalademie @kikiandbella @anamiad00msday @saltburntt @livvy256 @gee72sstuff please make sure your @ are on otherwise i cannot tag you!!

“mum seriously? Felix? as in the only person i absolutely hate with a passion Felix?” your mum rolled her eyes at your outburst. it wasn’t a shock to her that you were mad, you and Felix had grown up together but for some reason the two of you never got along. your parents had grown up together and had obviously been planning this for some time.

“i’m sorry sweetheart but yes, it will be good for the two of you to finally get along, he is a really sweet boy you know” you huffed “we could get along without getting married? i mean, i’m only 20 years old. i have my whole life ahead of me to get married” you ran a hand through your hair.

“why do i not get a say in this? shouldn’t i be able to say yes or no to this?” you were frustrated, you hated Felix. and no marriage certificate was ever going to change that. “stop being silly y/n. Elspeth is so excited to have you as a daughter in law, she loves you” your mum tried to end it there but you were not giving up.

“dad please tell her she is being irrational, there is no way you have agreed to this as well” you looked over at your dad “i’m sorry honey but i have agreed and so has the Catton family. you have no idea how good this would be for us, you will be bringing two very strong bloodlines together” you wanted to scream.

marrying Felix was the worst possible thing to probably ever happen in your life. Felix was an asshole to you, rude, snobby and ignorant. he thought he was this incredible man but in reality he was just a bastard, and you would be marrying him? you wanted the ground to open up and swallow you.

“i’m sure the two of you will get along just fine, you’re being a little dramatic honey. you’re going to have a beautiful dress, a beautiful ceremony, it’ll be amazing. and Felix is a very a handsome boy and you are a gorgeous girl, your kids will be absolutely perfect” you choked on your saliva

“kids? mum are you joking? i’m begging you, please don’t force me to marry him, my life will be a misery” your mum shook her head. “enough. this is final. you will marry Felix, end of story” your dad said making you and your mum look at him. you did not ever think that you would be in an arranged marriage with Felix Catton.

“now, get ready darling, we are going to saltburn to celebrate” this was going to be hell.

-♡-

“Felix darling, will you come here for a moment please?” Felix heard his mother call out as he walked past the living room. he saw his mum and dad sat on the sofa next to each other with huge smiles on their faces. he walked into the living room and sat on the sofa opposite the two of them “should i be worried?” he said jokingly, running a hand through his disheveled hair.

“no of course not” his mum laughed. “we have some news for you which you may not like the sound of at first, but, i think the idea will grow on you” his dad said, excitement filling his voice.

“we have been speaking to y/n’s parents” Felix rolled his eyes at the mention of your name. “and we have all collectively decided that it’s time for the two of you to finally know that you will be getting married” Elspeth squealed in excitement.

his jaw dropped “isn’t that amazing? oh god it’s so nice for the secret to finally be out” his father seemed just as ecstatic as his mother.

“you are joking right?” his mothers smile faltered “no, it’s not, you two are getting married. oh i am so thrilled Felix, we have been planning this for ages and now that you both know i think it’s really set it in stone.” he shook his head at her.

“no, absolutely not. i’m sorry but there is no way in hell that i am marrying y/n” he shook his head and laughed. “this is bullshit, we fucking hate each other, why the fuck would you two even think that is a good idea?” he felt sick. “Felix, don’t use that type of language please” Elspeth said.

“mum, she’s a bitch. you really think i want to marry her?” James shook his head “she is a lovely girl. it’ll be good for us Felix. and it will be nice for you two to get along” Felix scoffed at his father. “you guys can plan this as much as you want, but i am not marrying that girl. i am 22 years old and i am old enough to make my own decisions, no is no”

“you will be, sorry Felix but it’s already started to be planned. the two of you will be getting married so you best start to try and get along. you guys will be moving into a lovely house after your honeymoon, you two will be fine” Elspeth said, her voice stern.

“now, since you know the news, go get ready. we are having a huge party to celebrate your engagement” he scoffed and walked away from his parents. this was going to be a long night.

-♡-

your mother had already picked out your engagement party dress and to be honest she did a good job of picking it. the dress wasn’t too over the top which you were grateful for. this whole idea of getting married to someone you hated was a lot of getting used too. you didn’t even have a ring yet which you knew would make it feel more real.

when you envisioned yourself your life you didn’t expect to get married for a few more years, and you would be getting married to someone you actually loved. you never thought your parents would force you to get married to anyone, let alone Felix. “are you excited for the party?” your mum said pulling you out of your thoughts.

you gave her a tight lipped smile and nodded “look, i know it’s not what you wanted but we wouldn’t do it if we didn’t think it would work out. you and Felix will love each other in no time. i think when you two spend time together you will start to really like him” she grabbed ahold of your hand.

you were honestly willing to try the marriage thing for the sake of your parents, Felix was nice to everyone but you and you wanted to find out why. “oh, we invited practically everyone we know so be prepared to show fake smiles” she added as you stopped outside of Saltburn. knowing that you had to be lovey dovey with Felix made you anxious, it’s not like it was going to be easy when the two of you despised each other.

“right, let’s get this over with” you said as you exited the car, your mum scoffed “don’t speak like that y/n, you will enjoy yourself” she said as she linked her arm with your fathers. you followed behind the two of them and looked around the front garden of Saltburn, it had been covered in all different types of gold decorations.

Duncan the butler was waiting for you all at the front of the house, even though it was a party his face was still nonchalant. “theyre all waiting for you in the back garden, guests have already began to arrive.” your mother and father thanked him and made their way inside “not even going to break a smile for me, this is a party after all” you joked “enjoy the party y/n” he said making you laugh and brush past him. there was no breaking Duncan.

you made your way to the back garden which was just like the front, covered in gold decorations with guests slowly filling every section dressed in their party attire. you spotted Elspeth, James and Felix with your parents and you knew you would have to go over there. you put on your best brave faces d made your way over there.

Felix looked miserable as he stood next to his mother his eyes fixated on the grass. he hated the thought of you, he hated the thought of the two of you getting married even more. “aww there is the beautiful bride to be” he heard his mother say which made him look up from the ground.

now, even though you and Felix hated each other, there was no way he’d lie and say you weren’t beautiful because you were. you were one of the most beautiful people he had ever met. but that didn’t change the fact that he thought you were the most annoying person he’d ever met.

“gosh you look gorgeous” Elspeth said as you finally stood next to your parents. she pulled you into a hug and kissed your cheek. “now that you are here we can talk to you both. we know that the two of you don’t get along but we are very happy that you are going along with the arrangement. we promise you both that it will be all worth it in the end” James spoke quietly but loud enough for you all to hear. they obviously didn’t want people knowing that it was an arranged marriage.

“we will see about that dad, this is the worst day of my life” Felix said shaking his head. hearing him say that hurt you a little bit and you didn’t know why. you didn’t show the hurt on your face and you were quick with a comeback “likewise, i’d rather drown in bleach then have to marry you but here we are”

“why don’t the two of you go talk to one another about it? it might be good for you two to have an actual conversation instead of arguing all the time. go to the library, there isn’t anybody in there” Elspeth said looking between the two of you. “oh and if you see any guests and they congratulate you, please act like the two of you love each other” she added as the two of you started, asking your way to the library.

the walk to the library was silent until one of the Henry’s and his wife stopped the two of you “there is the happy couple. we have been waiting for the two of you to get together since you were young. you look gorgeous together” Henry’s wife said. your sour expression was quickly forgotten and you tried your best to show you were happy by putting the fake smile on your face.

you felt Felix’s arm go around your waist. “thank you, it didn’t take too much convincing” you said as convincing as possible. “let me see your ring dear, it must be beautiful” your eyes widened, you did not think about that at all. “it’s at the jewellers, i accidentally got the wrong size so we need to get her a temporary ring until her real one comes back” Felix was quick with his answer.

“how did you propose Felix? was it romantic?” you both nodded “very, we were on a couples holiday. we went for dinner and then we went for a walk along the beach and i just got down on one knee when i felt like the time was right” how was he so quick with these answers?

“wow, that is truly romantic. anyways, we don’t want to keep you guys for any longer. congratulations you two” with that the two of them walked toward the garden. “how the fuck did you come up with that so quickly?” you said as you both also continued walking. “dunno, i just made it up” his voice was flat and his arm dropped from your waist.

the two of you reached the library and Felix closed the door behind him. you sat on the sofa and he sat next to you awkwardly “so, how are you feeling about this situation then?” you spoke trying to stop the awkwardness. “how do you think? i’m being forced to marry a girl who i despise” he scratched the back of his neck.

“well, i’m not ecstatic about it either but, we have to do it. we just need to try and be nice to one another and i think it could work out. it’s gonna be awkward but-” he cut you off quickly “do you really think i’m gonna try work this out? with you? you must be out of your mind” he started, you didn’t like where this was going at all.

“you are the most annoying person i’ve ever met, you do realise this marriage is just to make our parents look good? there is no way i will try work this out with you. i will never like you, i will never love you. you’re just going to be a person i’m being forced to live with” you looked at him “you are unlovable. no one will ever fall in love with you, you are that frustrating. your parents probably agreed to this marriage because they know no one else will fall in love with you” his tone was harsh. hearing him say that broke you.

you could feel your eyes filling with tears which you tried to conceal as best you could but it was no use. even though you hated him his words cut deep. “that’s a really fucked up thing to say” you shook your head and got up to walk away, slamming the library door as you walked to the nearest bathroom. you could feel your chin quiver as you sniffled, trying your best to keep your tears at bay.

Felix knew that was a low blow, and he regretted his choice of words as soon as they left his mouth. he was left in the huge library, the deafening silence making him feel even worse for how he spoke to you. the two of you always threw insults at each other but nothing like that, ever.

he could tell that you were trying to make the best out of a shitty situation and he had to ruin it by overstepping the mark. he knew that he was going to have to apologise to you because he did, that time, take it too far. he spotted Theo, another butler stood at the end of the hallway. “did you see where she went?” he asked him as he shoved one of his hands in his pocket.

“she walked into the bathroom down that way sir” Theo pointed in the direction you had gone, he nodded “thanks” he started making his way to the bathroom and once he was outside the door he could hear your quiet sobs. he didn’t know what to do, he didn’t think the person he was about to comfort would be you let alone for something he said.

he knocked on the door gently, he heard your sobs stop. “who is it?” you called out, trying your best to hide the waver in your voice. “can i come in?” he questioned. he was stood outside the door for a couple of minutes before he heard you unlock the door. he walked into the bathroom and saw you sat on the floor next to the door.

he cautiously sat down next to you, not knowing how you were going to react. “look, i’m sorry for what i said. that took it too far and i am truly sorry. i’m just stressed about the situation and i took it out on you and i shouldn’t have done that” you just nodded and looked down at your lap.

he sighed, he knew that both of you would have to figure out a plan. the two of you were getting married which seemed scary to both of you and if you went through with it with out a plan it would just crumble. he spoke “so” you looked up from your lap to look at him “we need a plan” you nodded again. “how do you wanna do this?”

[papercorgiworld]

Can you forgive what he forgot?

Mattheo, Theodore and Enzo

You two break up, but then he takes a bad hit in a fight and forgets you two broke up. When he wakes up he immediately asks for you.

I loved this request, but for some reason it was a struggle to write. I battled words and phrases, but I got it written down! I must apologize. I hoped to write this for all Slytherin boys, but it was quite a big project so in the end I decided to stick with Mattheo, Theodore and Lorenzo. I hope it’s good… happy readings my sweet readers!

I. The break up

“How dare you pick a fight with my friends? How many times have I told you to just stay away from them if you don’t like them.” Your boyfriend groans and rolls his eyes. In his book you were being irrational, again. “Maybe you should hang out with better people. Maybe friends that don’t want to break us up.” He says with a stern voice, while getting off of the couch and towering over you. “What?” You yell and run a frustrated hand over your face. “Break us up? In Merlin’s name, have you been drinking? Or are you really this delusional?” He grabs your arm and drags you to his room, so the rest of the common room doesn’t get to enjoy the little show. 

“I’m delusional? You’re the one believing everyone wants to be your friend and support your relationship and let’s all have hugs for breakfast and sing happy songs by a bonfire.” You lose it at his empty argument and grab a pillow throwing it at him. “I don’t know why I keep putting up with your shit!” You yell and you can feel tears welling up. He stares at you with a stern look. “Oh don’t worry about it anymore, because this ridiculous relationship is over!” You take a step back at his loud voice and there is a long silence as you both tremble in anger. Just before your boyfriend wants to speak up you swallow and bravely look up to him. “Fine.” His eyes widen as you turn around and open the door with a shaky hand. Say anything! Make her stay! Move! Don’t let her leave! Say something! His mind rages as he feels like all air has been ripped away, but no words come. The door closes behind you and you two are no longer together, just like that. Tears roll down your cheeks as you speed walk to your dorm and by the time you get there, your now ex-boyfriend still stands in the exact same spot: silent, frozen but in just as much pain as you are.

II. The fight

Mattheo

Walking through the hallway Cedric laughs loudly with his friends, before lowering his voice a little. “Did you hear (y/n) finally broke up with that moron.” Mattheo grits his teeth as he overhears the hufflepuff, why couldn’t people just mind their own business. “How long do you guys think I should wait before I, you know, can ask her out.” His friends chuckle, before responding. “A week.” “The girl needs time, you don’t want to come off too strong.” “Nah, she’s been done with him for a long time, she just didn’t dare break up with the psycho. Really, just ask her.” Cedric nods, taking in all the different opinions. “Yeah, she was probably terrified of him. I bet he treated her like crap. She deserves so much better.” Cedric’s words hurt Mattheo, because part of him feared that you really hated being with him.

Mattheo turns and heads for the opposite direction in an attempt to avoid the confrontation, but after two steps he grits his teeth and balls up his fists. Nope. You’re not asking her out. In one sudden move Mattheo turns around, eyes dead focused on the hufflepuff who was still chatting away with his friends. With one easy spell Mattheo pulls Cedric towards him. “You should be the one terrified of me.” Cedric can barely register Mattheo’s word before a fist hits him hard, making him stumble back and reach for his bleeding nose. Mattheo grabs Mattheo’s color, but before he can throw his second punch he feels himself fly across the hallway. 

Theodore

Walking through the hallway Cedric laughs loudly with his friends, before lowering his voice a little. “Did you hear (y/n) finally broke up with that moron.” Theodore's eyes go dark as they move to find Cedric in the hallway. “Oh, they broke up? Good for her. That prick was underneath her.” Cedric nods at his friend. “I’m thinking of asking her out.” At Cedric’s words Theodore’s eyes go from dark to dead. Normally he would’ve kept his cool longer, but Theo knew you had had a crush on Cedric until third year. “You should. She looked happy this morning.” “Totally, she’s not missing his toxic ass at all.” Theodore clenches his jaw. Sure he had his issues, he was aware of that, but he never manipulated you in any way. 

Before Theo’s fully aware of it he feels himself move towards the group of friends. With dead eyes and big steps he radiates anger. His large hand lands on one guy’s shoulder firmly pulling him back so Theo now stands in front of Cedric. “I’m thinking you should start minding your own business and keep your mouth shut about my relationship.” Any other day the hufflepuff would have chosen a peaceful way out but not today. “Your relationship? There is no relationship, you broke her heart.” In a split second, Theodore’s fist meets Cedric’s jaw, making the latter fall. As Cedric scrambles up Theo pushes away the ones trying to keep him at bay and throws another punch to which Cedric quickly reacts by pulling out his wand, sending Theodore crashing into a wall.

Enzo

Lorenzo was frustrated, frustrated with you for walking out and frustrated himself for letting you. Instead of being his usual happy self he was a stormy cloud drifting around Hogwarts scowling at everyone that so much as breathed in his direction. So when an already cranky Enzo hears the laughter of Cedric and his friends he’s eyes turn furious watching the happy lot carelessly banter. However, with his focus on the hufflepuff he overhears your name. “Cedric, did you hear (y/n) is single?” Cedric’s grins. “Yeah, I plan on asking her out sometime soon. I mean I’m not that surprised that it didn’t work out, they just weren’t a good fit.” Suddenly dropping his bag, Lorenzo struts in the directions of the group. “Hey, Diggory! You know what's a good fit?” The Hufflepuff was given zero time to calculate what was coming. “Your nose and my fist!” Enzo’s words are filled with hatred as Enzo’s fist breaks Cedric’s nose, making him stumble several steps back. 

Mattheo grins, liking this Enzo way more than the happy guy he usually was, but as he watches Lorenzo ball up his fist again he sees Cedric reach for his wand, before he can warn Enzo, he’s already flying several feet up to then crash harshly onto the stone castle floors. Everyone gasps hearing the loud tut and seeing Enzo’s body laying still.

III. The hospital wing

You had heard from Blaise what had happened and how bad it was, but even though your heart ached to be with him you were his ex and thus had lost every right to be by his side. With your head resting in your hand you picked at your food. Your friends stared at you, searching for the right thing to say. You’re about to snap at them and tell them that staring is impolite, but you catch Draco approaching you and signaling you to get up. Hesitant you walk over to him. “He’s asking for you.” He looks a bit awkward, but you nod calmly and try to act composed. As soon as you walk through the doors of the great hall and you’re out of sight, you speed walk to the hospital wing. Once in front of the door you feel yourself get shaky, fearing an uncomfortable reunion after the fight. Why did he even ask for me? Does he regret breaking up with me?

Mattheo

You walk in and Dumbledore looks up at you. “Ah, miss (y/l/n). Here to check up on mister Riddle?” You nod and he smiles. “I must warn you, when he fell he hit the floor pretty hard and his memory seems to be a little foggy.” At his words the need to be by Mattheo’s side becomes urgent and your eyes search for him. The headmaster gives you a sympathetic smile and moves to the side so you see Mattheo. As Dumbledore walks by you, he turns to you one last time. “Funny things, aren’t they, memories?” Your eyebrows knit together as you watch him leave, before quickly turning towards Mattheo whose eyes were already on you.

“Princess.” Mattheo mutters with a groggy voice and a half smile, when you get closer he opens his arms. You are hesitant for a moment, but allow him to embrace you. When he lets go a little you immediately take a step back, making him frown at  your distant behavior. With gentle fingers move through his curls so you can study the bruise on the side of his face. Never liking the idea of you seeing him hurt and maybe thinking he’s weak Mattheo reaches for your hand, pulling it towards his chest to rest there. “It’s nothing. I’m fine.” You shake your head at his stupid tough act. “Why did you ask for me, Matt?” His eyebrows knit together and he chuckles. “Please don’t be mad because I got in another stupid fight.” He snakes a hand to rest on your hips, gently squeezing you as a way to get you closer to him. He wants you close to him, like you always were, but you don’t budge and just frown at him.

“Please, princes. I made a bad fall, I don’t need any more attitude from you.” You cross your arms getting angry at how he pretended like everything was fine. “Please, (y/n), I promise no fights for a week.” You huff. A week, seriously, that's not even an achievement. But also not the point, Riddle. “I don’t care that you got your ass kicked. You dumped me, you can’t just expect me to come cuddle you because you’re hurt.” Mattheo looked horrified at your words. He was utterly confused. “Dumped? What are you talking about?” He moves to properly sit up on the bed and grabs your free hand, while keeping a firm grip on the hand on his chest. Something in the back of his mind was screaming at him to hold onto you tightly and make sure you didn’t leave the room. “Princess, I love you, I would never dump you.” Mattheo whispers and as he leans in to kiss you, you remember what Dumbledore had said.  He doesn’t remember that we broke up! His soft lips tenderly lock with yours, finally putting his mind at ease.

Theodore

You walk in and Dumbledore looks up at you. “Ah, miss (y/l/n). Here to check up on mister Nott?” You nod and he smiles. “I must warn you, when he fell he hit the floor pretty hard and his memory seems to be a little foggy.” At his words the need to be by Theodore’s side becomes urgent and your eyes search for him. The headmaster gives you a sympathetic smile and moves to the side so you see Theo. As Dumbledore walks by you, he turns to you one last time. “Funny things, aren’t they, memories?” Your eyebrows knit together as you watch him leave, before quickly turning towards Theodore who’s eyes were already on you.

When he notices how hesitant you are to walk towards him Theo sighs. Ever since he woke up he had this intense need to have you close to him. “(y/n), love. Don’t be mad at me. I don’t remember any of it, but I’m pretty sure Cedric deserved it.” You slowly approach him, studying the bruise near his temple. Blaise had told you how after being slammed into the wall Theodore brutally fell down, face smacking against the cold floor and the image horrified you, but seeing how painful colors covered his face made your heart squeeze in agony. “Why? Why always get into stupid fights?” You murmur and Theo stretches, almost falling out of the bed, so he can grab your hand and pull you closer. “I honestly don’t remember.” He whispers, chuckling softly, and pats on an open spot next to him, urging you to take a seat next to him. “Theo-” You sigh and look down at his hand, holding yours. “What’s wrong?” Theodore asks, fingers gently brushing your jaw as he begs for you to look at him. You snort at his stupid question. “We’re over remember, you said so. So why did you ask for me? Did you expect me to fall back into your arms just because you got into another stupid fight?” 

Theo pulls away from you and studies your face. “What are you saying? We’re over? When did I say something like that?” A heavy sigh leaves his lips and he moves the sheets aside, wanting to get out of bed and hug you. He needed to hold you. None of the things were making any sense and he kept feeling this urgent need to hold you. Your mouth drops a little at his words, but as soon as you see him try to get out of bed you stop him. “You need to rest.” You say pushing him gently. “No, I need to hold my girlfriend.” He counters and you’re sure you hear a little panic in his voice, like he really needed to hold you. “You don’t remember?” You whisper under your breath and Theo tries to make out the words you’re saying, but it was too silent so he just stares at you guessing at what’s going on inside your head. “Move aside.” You whisper and Theo complies, laying back down in the bed and relaxing when you join him. You quietly rest your head on his shoulder as your mind struggles to grasp the bizarre situation.

Enzo

You walk in and Dumbledore looks up at you. “Ah, miss (y/l/n). Here to check up on mister Berkshire?” You nod and he smiles. “I must warn you, when he fell he hit the floor pretty hard and his memory seems to be a little foggy.” At his words the need to be by Enzo’s side becomes urgent and your eyes search for him. The headmaster gives you a sympathetic smile and moves to the side so you see Lorenzo. As Dumbledore walks by you, he turns to you one last time. “Funny things, aren’t they, memories?” Your eyebrows knit together as you watch him leave, before quickly turning towards Enzo who’s eyes were already on you.

“(y/n)! Thank Salazar, you’re finally here. Please tell them that I’m fine. They want me to stay the night for supervision, but that’s just crazy.” You take a deep breath and walk towards him. “Is that why you asked me to come?” You question dryly, making Enzo frown. “No, I just missed you. I found it weird that you weren’t here by my side when I woke up. I know you’re a busy bee, but I thought at least your boyfriend deserved a little visit and maybe a massage.” Lorenzo wiggles his eyebrows at the last bid and you cross your arms giving him a stern look. “Boyfriend? Did you really think I would come back running into your arms because your dumbass got into a fight.” Enzo pushes himself off of the pillow, clearly not pleased with your words. “Yeah, boyfriend.” He grabs your arm, pulling you against the hospital bed. “What’s gotten into you? Please don’t tell me you’re picking Cedric’s side?” 

You huff and narrow your eyes at him. “Gotten into me? You told me you were done with me and-” Enzo shakes his head in confusion, while you talk, before interrupting you. “What? I’m not done with you, you’re my girl, you’ve always been the love of my life, why would you think any different?” Enzo swings his arm around your shoulder pulling you against his chest. As he places a soft kiss on your forehead you realize what Dumbledore tried to tell you. Enzo didn’t remember your break up. He still thinks we’re dating.

IV. Like it never happened 

You had tried to tell him about the fight, but his brain just couldn’t remember and neither did he believe that he would actually let you leave. After a while you just gave up on trying to convince him it really happened and gave in to his begging for affection. Cuddled up against him, you both fell asleep in the small hospital bed. The next morning you wake up first and stare at him for several minutes debating on what to do with the situation. He had broken your heart, but now he was back and you judged yourself for it, but in truth you were happy to have him back. 

When he woke up he pulled you closer and kissed you. "Good morning." He sang and in that moment you decided that you were suffering from memory loss as well. The break up did not happen.

***

Mattheo

“Can you believe that on my first day back Snape tells me to write a three page essay?” You nod, before joining your boyfriend on his bed and brushing your fingers through his hair. “It’s Snape, I think he was being nice.” You joke and he smiles, eyes admiring your every feature. “Are you here to help me or distract me?” Mattheo smirks as you again comb his hair with your fingers. “Help.” You state before pulling away from him and reaching for some of the books scattered around on his bed. However, now that you are this close to him, Snape’s essay is the last thing on the slytherin’s mind. He snakes an arm around your waist, pulling you closer against him, and you shake your head. “No, Matt, I know what you’re thinking about, but you need to finish your essay first.” You try to pull away, but he just tightens his grip and his smirk turns into a playful grin. “What am I thinking about exactly, princess?” You force your lips into a line, not giving him the satisfaction of a smile. 

“I’m not going to entertain your little game, Mattheo.” You resist his charm, but he’s persistent and pulls you into his lap. His lips brush your ear and you can’t see his smirk, but you know it’s there. Your cheeks heat up as you feel his warm breath on your skin. “Tell me, princess, what exactly am I thinking?” Your answer is censored.

Theodore

A very frustrated Theo drops two books onto the library table loud enough to make some people throw him a look, but he just ignores it falling in one of the chairs and sighing. You ruffle his hair in an attempt to calm him. “It’s only three pages.” Theodore lets his head fall to the side as he watches you sit down next to him. “He’s punishing me for missing class, but it’s not like it was my intention to lose consciousness and miss class.” You ignore his complaint and reach for the books. “Let's just get started. The sooner you’re done, the sooner we can do something fun.” Theodore watches you as you focus on the books, feeling drawn to you he leans in. “How about we do something fun first and then I’ll do this stupid essay.” A flustered smile tugs on your lips at his seductive voice. “You might’ve hit your head pretty hard, but you’re still the same boy as before.” You mutter trying to keep your cool and focus on the books in front of you. 

“Boy?” Theodore’s voice is playful, but there’s also something twisted about it. You had struck a nerve by belittling him like that. Without warning he gets up, gently wrapping his hand around your arm. You look up at him with a confused look. “Before I start on this essay there’s something more important I need to do.” You get up and follow in his step. “What’s this urgent thing you suddenly need to do?” You whisper still clueless. “You.” Thedore answers sternly before pushing you into a nearby broom closet. “Boy? Really?” He snaps at you before harshly crashing his lips onto yours in the dark confined space.

Enzo

“Will you read my essay and check for mistakes?” Enzo asks while you watch the water of the black lake. You look over at him as he reaches in his bag for the parchment. “Essay?” You question. “Yeah, Snape made me write a three page essay because I missed class yesterday. Like it was my fault, if anything Cedric should write a three page essay.” You snort, knowing full well that Enzo was the one that started the fight. He hands you the essay and you immediately dig in, scanning the words carefully. Your boyfriend can’t help but stare as you underline a few words. You looked drop dead gorgeous in the sunlight, intensly focussed on the paper in front of you. Gods, my girlfriend’s a sexy nerd.

“On second thought.” Enzo whispers in your ear, leaning closer. “Maybe that essay isn’t that important after all.” You bite your lip, feeling your face heat up at Enzo’s closeness. “How about we go for a swim?” Enzo reaches for the paper, but you don’t let go, trying to resist him. However, your boyfriend knows exactly how to get your attention and he places tender kisses under your ear, tracing down your neck before his nose brushes your cheek. “Or we could just go to my room.” His husky whisper and his soft touch turn you into a willing victim for whatever he has planned.

V. Morning memories

Your boyfriend shoots up from a nasty dream. With his heart racing he immediately looks next to him to check if you’re with him. You are. You are peacefully sleeping and he feels his body relax. His hand runs over his face and through his hair as he tries to wrap his head around what he had just dreamed or remembered. Slowly he realizes that it wasn’t just a dream, it was something that had actually happened. 

You two had a fight. You left. He felt so empty. Then there was Cedric. Next the fall. 

He can’t get his heart rate down and his brain is running wild as well, so he decides to quietly get up, careful to not wake you up. He slips into his sweatpants and leaves the room, sighing once he’s finally away from your sleeping figure. He scans the common room in search of his friends. When doesn’t spot a single one of the usual suspects he frowns and Pansy patiently waits for him to meet her eyes. Finally his eyes land on Pansy. “The rest of your boy band is out.” A smirk on her face as she shamelessly scans his bare chest. She wasn’t going to deny that you had great physical taste in men. “You look distressed.” She adds after a few seconds. The wise thing for him was to turn around, but your boyfriend is in need of a distraction as he feels himself panic, worried about the whole break up situation. 

“No stress.” He says, obviously stressed and crosses his arms. “Afraid she’ll figure out.” Pansy tilts her head slowly, eyes dangerous like she’s settling on a prey. He clenches his jaw. How does she know I suddenly remember? “She won’t. We’re back together and all is fine. There’s no need for her to know that I remember.” Pansy smirks. “Would it hurt that bad to admit you made a mistake and want her back?” 

Mattheo

“We’re happy. So why waste time on pointless arguments and apologies, she’s obviously already forgiven me.” Mattheo argues, slightly raising his voice, annoyed with Pansy. “I don’t know if she’s forgiven you for the fight, but if I were I would come clean, because if she finds out you remember you’ll have to apologize twice and big time.” Mattheo grits his teeth. “She won’t find out if you don’t tell.” Pansy licks her lips and her eyes wander over Mattheo’s shoulder. “Oh, Matt, don’t you know that things are never that simple.” 

It only takes Mattheo a second to realize that Pansy’s looking over his shoulder in the direction of his room. You had woken up and come to search for him. You had heard everything he had said. Slowly his eyes roll to the back of his head, throwing his head back a little in frustration with himself. Apologize twice and big time. He turns around, but your eyes only meet for a moment as you instantly turn around to head back to his room to get your stuff and get out. 

But this time Mattheo wasn’t going to let you go. He follows you and shuts the door behind you, locking you in his room as he rests against the door watching you grather your stuff. “I’m sorry.” He whispers with his head hanging low. “Oh, now you apologize.” You huff and Mattheo groans, pushing himself off of the door and into your direction. “Princess.” He whines and you turn around to face him with teary eyes. “Were you really going to continue lying?” You ask with a shaky voice and Mattheo sighs, reaching for your hands. “Probably.” You want to turn away from him, but he holds on tightly to your hands, squeezing them to ask you to look at him. “I’ll do anything to keep you with me. I don’t want to lose you.” You pull your hands back and try to push him away. “Everything, except being honest and apologizing?” You snap and he bites his tongue, while shutting his eyes for a second. “I let you walk away! I called our relationship ridiculous! How can an apology make up for that?! (y/n), I don’t just want you to forgive me I want you to forget just like I did, because I hate what I said, I hate that I let you walk through this door.”

His loud voice has you shaking a bit, but you stay in place in front of him and he sighs, looking at you with soft eyes. “I don’t- I honestly don’t know how you can put up with my shit? I can’t forgive myself- I really don’t get why you came back to me? So yeah, I wanted to continue pretending like none of it happened. I’m sorry.” You sigh and shake your head, eyes wandering around as you struggle with his stupid explanation. “I want you back. I love you.” Mattheo whispers with a pleading voice as he takes a small step towards you, he wants to reach for your hands but doesn’t dare to, so his fingers just softly brush yours. With an angry huff you turn away from him and his heart breaks, but then he sees you drop your stuff on his bed and turn back around to face him. “I love you too, Mattheo Riddle, and you should know by now that I love you so much that I can forgive the stupid stuff you do.” In an instant Mattheo’s smiling, almost grinning, he closes the distance between you two and his arms snake around you. A gentle hand brushes your hair as he adores your pretty face and drowns in your eyes. “You’re staying?” You nod and he cups your face kissing you intensely. 

Theodore

“Yeah, it would, Pansy.” Theodore snaps and Pansy grins looking back to him. A hard noise makes Theodore turn around to face the door of his room. “Oh, Theodore, you screwed up big time.” He turns around looking at Pansy for confirmation. “She heard everything.” Theodore hurries back to his room where you are quickly gathering your uniform so you can leave. As soon as you spot him you throw the first item at hand in his direction, but he gracefully catches it. “Twat!” You yell and Theodore sighs, dropping his head. “Why can’t you just apologize like a normal person, Theo?” Theodore walks over to you and grabs your arm forcing you to look at me. “You had already forgiven me so I thought, done is done.” You frown at his cheap argument. “Really? You wanted to take the easy way out?” Theo huffs at the accusation. “So did you by just coming back to me.” Your mouth drops, was he really turning this on you. “Well, I’m sorry for that, but your bruised dumb ass just wouldn’t believe that we broke up!” You angrily pull your arm back out of Theodore’s grasp, stumbling back a few steps. 

When you try to walk past him he takes a step to block you. You try to give him a shove, but it’s to no avail, he won’t budge. Quietly he waits for you to meet his eyes. When you do you notice how soft his eyes are. “I’m sorry, (y/n). I’m sorry I wanted to continue pretending like it didn’t happen, but I was so afraid that if you knew I remembered you would leave. If my memories were back there was no need for you to babysit me anymore and I can’t watch you leave a second time.” You narrow your eyes at him. “Theodore Nott you can be such an- an- urgh!” You were so annoyed with him you couldn’t find the words. “I’m an urgh?” Theo questions and now you're seriously considering punishing him in the face. When he sees you get angrier he grimaces at his own comment. “I know, I know, I’m a total urgh.” This seems to calm you down. “I’m sorry. I just want to forget about the break up again and I want you to forget as well, because I need you, I love you so much that I need you. I plan to grow old with you so yeah I thought pretending like the break up didn’t happen was a good idea.” You cross your arms. “It was a stupid idea.” You say with a stern voice and Theodore nods with sheepish eyes. “I know.” 

You sigh and now that you’re both calm, Theo wraps his arms around you pulling you against his chest. “Please tell me you can forgive me?” You listen to his heartbeat for a moment, before pulling away. “You’re lucky I love you. This was a total urgh move and I’m still a bit angry, but I forgive you.” Your boyfriend smiles and places a soft kiss on your forehead, before pulling your chin up with a gentle finger. “Thanks for putting up with me.” He whispers before leaning in for a passionate kiss.

Enzo

“Why would I apologize? I got her back didn’t I?” Enzo states, rather proud of himself and Pansy gives him a funny look. “That’s a bit cheap, don’t you think? Breaking up with a girl, breaking her heart and then not even apologizing for it.” Pansy offers Enzo one last chance to decide to do the right thing as you listen, quietly standing near the door of his room. “Pans, she’s never going to figure it out, this way is just easier.” Pansy facepalms. “Enz, you’re about to get your ass dumped.” Pansy sighs and points to the door of his room open. Panic fills Enzo’s face as he realizes you might have heard something and he hurries to his room. When he notices you’re switching from your pajamas into your uniform he closes the door and chuckles awkwardly. “In a hurry?” He asks and you throw him a dark scowl. Okay, she heard. I’m such an idiot. “Thinking back about what I just said, I realize that maybe it wasn’t the best approach.” You roll your eyes at his attempt at an apology, before searching his room for your shirt, which Enzo spots before you and hides behind his back. 

“Lorenzo Berkshire! Give me back my shirt!” You say with a loud and stern voice, making Enzo nervous. “Please, sweetheart give me a chance to apologize.” You cross your arms and judge him. “I thought you didn’t want to apologize?” Your voice is dripping with irony and Enzo makes an apologetic face. “Yeah, but on second thought I think I should apologize, big time.” You tilt your head and stare him right in the eyes. “I’m sorry, (y/n). I so so so am.” Enzo pleads as he walks closer to you. “I’m just so happy we’re back together and I just wanted things to stay this way. You don’t get how much I love you. I’m miserable without you and I was afraid that if I would bring up the fight- if you knew I got my memories back then maybe we would be over again and- and- I love you, please don’t leave me.” 

You open your hand, urging him to give your shirt back and Enzo drops his shoulders, but with an aching heart he does give it back. “I’m sorry for forcing you to stay.” You take your shirt and look at Lorenzo’s sad eyes. “You’re an idiot, Berkshire.” He nods. “I know. I told the love of my life that our relationship was ridiculous and then I let her leave.” You smile at him as he looks at the floor. “But I can’t help but love you.” At those words Enzo looks up at you with hopeful eyes. “Are you forgiving me?” You chuckle. “I guess so. I love you too much.” You take a step closer to him. “Too much to stay angry at you.” A bright smile forms on Enzo’s lips, while he picks you up and twirls you around. You can’t help but laugh at how silly he is and when he sets you down again he kisses you. “We’re never breaking up again, ever.” He whispers and you nod.

Dear readers, feedback is always welcome. Sending you lots of love.

[lundenloves]

BABY’S FIRST WORDS

〔 a fluff piece brought to you by yours truly. domesticity at its finest, featuring the rarity of simon joking and we even observe a rare laugh from him. not without his usual cluelessness and blunt nature though. king! 〕

˗ˏˋ i honestly love him just existing as a dad. learn as you go type stuff, his daughter latching onto him when he wanted it least must’ve done him good. our emotionally stunted husband — someone give this man a hug and tell him he’s alr.

⇀ 1k | no warnings

dad!simon masterlist | masterlist | request info | taglist

Of course. Of course it had happened the only ten minutes of the day you had left her — barely managing one foot in the shower before Simon had opened the door with your daughter in his hands. Not arms, but hands. “She spoke.” He provided lamely, holding her out to you as if she contained a transferable illness. 

You grabbed a towel, wrapping it around your dry body before taking her from him, the smile she made was adoring. “She what.” Brows pung upward, your brief frown at his interruption loosening into a warmth while peppering kisses all across her cheeks. “She—“ 

“She said my name.” 

“She said Simon?” You retorted and he scoffed, taking a step backward to the door, forearm leant on the threshold. “Dad?” She reached for your hair, small fingers pulling on it with a smile when you had begun bouncing her from side to side. 

Simon shifted. “Bit like,” His words were lost for a baby laugh, one that echoed against the bathroom walls. Your hand was against your mouth in milliseconds, finding obvious tears welling in your eyes. 

“What the fuck.” You mouthed, smoothing the hair on her head and Simon raised his brows in acknowledgment of your reaction, the faintest of smiles tugging at the side of his lip. “Sorry, what did she say?” You let a breathy laugh go, one that emphasised your emotionality. 

His eyes switched between you and his daughter, leaning his full weight against the door now. “Da.”

You tilted your head at him. “Doesn’t that make you feel whole?” The baby in your arms began flailing her arms in your hold, reaching for her father as if on cue. 

Simon shrugged, pushing off from the door to close the distance between you and allowing her to poke at his tattoo. “Didn’t think much of it.” He admitted, his eyes landing on yours that had narrowed ever so slightly with an understanding nod. 

“Nothing?”

“Nothing.” He bit at the skin on his top lip, acutely aware of the flaring of your nostrils. A list of potential worries flurrying your mind, ones you would all deem as irrational though Simon probably wouldn’t. It was valid to worry about his reactions. 

His immediate reaction to your daughters first laugh was, “Oh, shit.” The noise being between a baby coo and giggle combined into something that would’ve burst your chest yet only poked at his. He held her outward, stretched forearms while her small feet kicked in the air. 

Then came her first word, one of demand, a strong “Da!” One Simon had told himself meant dad, though it was more likely a protesting noise to be put down. Whatever the noise meant, he granted her outstretched hands, placing her back down onto his knee and bouncing it up and down gently. 

By no means did Simon Riley know what to do with a baby, he was still learning, very slowly — but surely. “What was that?” He mumbled at her, his eyes boring into hers as if she were an adult who could understand his demanding stare. “Tell dad, eh? Say it again.”

To clarify the noise wasn’t made in anger. 

Instead, she grabbed at his shoulder, bunching up the material of his shirt loosely. “Or that.” He muttered, diverting his attention along with her own to Blue Planet that had been on pause for ten minutes since you had left. 

He tapped his fingers in quick succession of the one before, the sofa armrest now becoming a point of interest for the baby who had watched his hand move. Though, right before she could hike off his thigh, he had then decided to take her through to you. You know, just to let you know your daughter had just spoken her first word (noise) alongside a laugh. 

“Did she say anything else?” You asked, pushing a stray strand of hair that had fallen to his forehead only for it to drop back down. 

“Yeah.” He said bluntly, taking her from your hold and looking down to her. “Quantum physics,” 

A pause for your sigh. “Explained it all.” 

You nudged his shoulder, turning to check the shower temperature. “Go put her down. She’s due a sleep.” Your back was to the man, though his expression was easily imagined. “No, I can’t do it.”

Oftentimes, Simon zoned out when doing anything with the baby. It was something he took through future years too, future kids and all ages, arguments at breakfast? Zoned out. Walking with him? Not there. Even talking to him? Meh. 

He put the baby down in a trance, standing over the cot silently praying to gods he didn’t believe in that she would continue her peace. That no cries would break and his headache would remain in its rest, taking slow steps backward when she had shut her eyes. 

“Can't believe she spoke to you.” You had said later that night, leant against a barstool watching Simon cut up an onion in that one way you just couldn’t master. “And not me, that is.” 

“I have a charm.” He pointed the knife on its end, spinning it on the cutting board before eyeing you. “Obviously.”

“A silent-threatening-mediocre type of charm.”

He shrugged, sliding the annoyingly perfect dicing into a pan. “First laugh too.” It was a mumble designed to entice a reaction, and that it did, your arm barging against his after hearing your baby cry on cue. 

“I’ll get something from her yet.” You picked up washing from the bottom stair, beginning up the stairs to go and pacify. 

“Only got the rest of your life!” He shouted for you to hear, gaining an earnest roll of your eyes. 

“I prefer you when you’re quiet.” You spoke aloud, just enough to gain a laugh from him, one you imagined he had let go without permission while aggressively preparing another onion. 

simon ‘ghost’ riley taglist: @vamppxncess @crowbird @tallrock35 @fluffmonster @islanderr @blueoorchid @lea3773 @coldflapjack @rayhawk05 @han11dh @liishook @melovetitties @fallonx @rvjaa @fuckmelifesucks @bhayatsara @takeomisbitch @local-spidey @konigsblog @penutjuice @babychoi03 @sheluvzeren @sparklingtragedy @maviee @wiserebelpartypie @daddylorianisastateofmind @bhayatsara @mistydeyes @writingmysanity @johfaam0 @idkbbyx3 @gressseyy @fwibblefwobble @shibble @maladaptivedaydreamingbum @airghostlyfox @hotgirlsshareaccounts @simpxinnie @dilfdotgov @cliosunshine @bloobewy @lazybutsmexy @maki-z @yyiikes @tieflingteatime @cosmoscoffeee @lilvampirina @cinnabeanz @bubbyblob @spencerreidisbae123

unedited as usual. gonna go over my dad!simon masterlist this week. reblogs and comments are hugely appreciated!

[dufferpuffer]

Longbottoms boggart wasn't Snape.

I mean you'd think this would be obvious enough - but people who hate Snape bring it up as their sort of trump card. "He was so bad he was a 13yr olds biggest fear!" No. He wasn't. Boggarts don't quite work like that. Boggarts are not themselves your worst fear - they make you FEEL your worst fear. Hermione isn't actually scared of McGonagall. (I'm sure alot of first years are scared of her though I mean she is strict and stern and a little scary at first.) Did she have some irrational fear of suddenly failing all her classes? Yeah, maybe a little bit - but it is BECAUSE she is scared of not being good enough. From the first book we see her struggling to fit in with her peers. She is muggleborn, she learned she was a witch so suddenly that she poured herself into being the most perfect witch she could.

Professor McGonagall, a stern and strict witch she respects, telling her she isn't good enough despite all of her best efforts makes her FEEL her worst fear. It has nothing to do with Minerva personally - honestly it could probably be replaced with Dumbledore or someone... its just she has far more interaction with Minerva.

SO - Longbottom and Snape: How do I know that Snape isn't his absolute worst fear? Because he still attends Potions every fucking week!!! Do you think RON could attend Charms if it was run by a spider?!? He can pass Snape in the hall, he can sit in the same room as Snape, he can even be teased and bullied by Snape. His parents were tortured to insanity by Death Eaters. Severus Snape is NOT his worst fear, that's stupid. Snape just makes him FEEL his worst fear - like McGonagall makes Hermione feel hers. SO what is Neville worst fear? I think the clue comes with him quickly saying that he also wouldn't want the Boggart to turn into his grandma. Inadequacy. Neville has never been good enough. He has low self worth. The tiniest bits of praise overwhelm him. He never wins any house points and losing some devastates him. He got his magic late, his family kept trying to tease it out of him, thought he was maybe a squib. He has a proud legacy to uphold and he is terrified he cannot. He is the worst potions student Snape has ever had.

Snape makes Neville feel inadequate. His grandmother makes him feel inadequate. But mix them together... and suddenly these two very scary people that seem to have such control over his life... look a little ridiculous.

DO you think Lupin is LITERALLY scared of the moon...? Or does the moon make him feel powerless and dangerous and inhumane? DO you think Harry is LITERALLY scared of Dementors...? Or is he scared of how powerless he is against the horrible way they make him feel - the trauma they bring up from the deep recesses of his mind?

Snape was not so horrific, so awful, so scary, so mean - that he as a man became Nevile's worst fear. He, like his grandma, makes him feel inadequate.

[headspace-hotel]

facts about The Fear, after 20 years of life with her

The Fear is NOT:

an intruder, invader, or some other entity from "outside" You

inappropriate, wrong, or incorrect

a responsibility

a punishment

"irrational" or otherwise able to be understood through a relationship to "rationality"

an "inaccurate" representation of reality

The Fear IS:

an innate part of you

extra-rational—she exists outside and completely independent from "rationality" and does not respond to being judged according to that lens

self-love—her purpose is to protect you and keep you safe

self-sufficient—fear is a 100% whole, complete entity that doesn't "represent" or "reflect" something else

earnest—fear is always a 100% real experience that is exactly as it is felt, and, needing no comparison or reference to any external reality, it is not "dishonest" or "inaccurate"— it asserts a claim about only itself

subversive [not quite the word I am looking for but it will have to do]— is not necessarily beholden to social and cultural norms of what should be feared, how much, and how you should respond. She does not stop existing in the absence or suppression of vocabulary to describe her.

a demand for care— she does not just communicate to you but to the community you are part of; she calls attention to an obligation that this community has toward you, to make sure that you are safe within it and that your experiences are heard and understood.

yeah, so, i've had severe anxiety for my whole life and the way it's been treated and dealt with, and the way I've been taught to understand it, has really fucked me up so I am trying to lay the groundwork for understanding it differently

I think it's pretty fucked up that we're taught to see anxiety as deceptive or inaccurate. Now, obviously the images or projections in my fearful thoughts do not usually "reflect reality," but I have come to see this as...not particularly important?

Teaching an anxiety sufferer to restructure their thoughts to dismiss and contradict "irrational" fear is, in my opinion, the same as teaching a chronic pain sufferer to restructure their thoughts to dismiss and contradict pain with no clear physical source. You might as well speak of "irrational" pain, and pain has the same relationship to rationality that fear has.

"Irrationality" is a quality assigned to fear that is judged by an outside observer, or by the collective cultural biases and hang-ups of a society, as not appropriate to a given situation. This is total fucking nonsense and we should be talking about that, because...well, the first reason is that it implies some kind of fixed standard for what fear ultimately is and isn't for. i like to tell people to watch one of those Coyote Peterson videos where he's going to get a tarantula hawk wasp to sting him, because he's obviously having a strong physical fear response, even though he knows it won't kill him. Is it "rational" to fear suffering and not just death? How much suffering? Sit with that one a little while.

The second reason, which is even more convincing, is that the "rational" brain is not consulted at any point, ever, when a person feels afraid. It's just a response. The fear response is not routed through the conscious, sapient, reasoning brain. And thank God, because if we needed to hear back from an upstairs executive before we could decide whether to run from a lion, our species would be extinct.

Techniques like Cognitive Behavioral Therapy were absolute fucking shit at making my life any better, but fantastic at wrecking my ability to identify my own emotions, because Cognitive Behavioral Therapy for anxiety basically amounts to trying to brainwash yourself into thinking you don't feel the emotions that you do. It's a really neat way to develop bizarre psychosomatic symptoms and start experiencing anxiety through constant body pain, swollen lymph nodes, and digestive issues.

For an institution that pathologizes having "alters," psychiatry sure loves to encourage a suffering person to view normal and ultimately good parts of themselves as distinct, intruding entities to be shoved in a closet somewhere.

And yes. Fear is ultimately a good part of you, a part of you that loves you.

What began to set me free was feeling that acid terror and sickness and rage course through my body and realizing—really realizing—that I was being illuminated with this ancient, powerful force driving me to LIVE.

I want us to make it. I want you to live.

And you know what, I want me to live too.

I abandoned the doctrine of calming down—Lord knows it had never worked anyway—and started really just exploring and existing in the Fear.

How did that feel? Bad. Very very very very very bad and really not productive or helpful at all initially. Which was unavoidable. Necessary. She had been frantically clawing to communicate with me for so long, and I had been shutting her away, silencing her, resenting her presence in my psyche. I started trying to show gratitude toward the signals my body gave me. I started trying to show gratitude toward her—and i guess the Fear was a Her now, this just seemed more respectful.

And it seemed like nothing happened, but several things happened.

I stopped searching for validation. That was a big one. At some point I just...stopped needing a "reason" or justification for the fear I felt (trauma???? neurodivergence???? neurodivergence trauma????) and the fact that I experienced it became completely sufficient and satisfying to me. So much guilt and confusion disappeared.

I also became steadily more confident about my own boundaries, particularly in regards to recovery.

It's awful now that I think about it, but I think I felt this sense of almost moral obligation towards "recovery," as if I needed to "overcome fear" to be Courageous and Virtuous. It made me feel crushing guilt to feel any hesitation about this.

But then this started to change. It became more real to me that was the only person affected by the steps I did or didn't take toward recovery, and there was no moral dimension to it. A therapist couldn't put me in a box I wouldn't willingly go into.

Freedom from these judgmental frameworks is really important to me. I think that I always hated the idea of getting "better" because it seemed like "better" would mean just getting better at submitting to things I was afraid of while everything felt just as bad as it always did on the inside.

And on some level—even though I could never put it into words at the time—I violently hated the idea of "recovery" from some of my fears because it seemed like the ultimate denial of agency. I didn't want to "become okay with it"—the possibility felt dehumanizing. It felt awful.

And I realize now that this is because The Fear represented something I needed to have a right to. Many of my most life-destroying fears centered around things being done to my body, and if I could have pressed a button and been no longer afraid, I wouldn't have, even though it would have spared me so much suffering, because...I needed it to be okay to want agency over my body. I needed it to be right. The Fear, in this case, was a demand that my body be treated as sacred.

I realized that there were many cases where The Fear was a territorial claim of sorts, a demand that certain needs be honored and met—She needs this. This is FUCKING non-negotiable.

And it really...prompted me to look backward on my life and see The Fear differently: not as a responsibility I had failed to shoulder (me?? a little child??? responsible?? Responsible for being brave, when every day felt like facing a firing squad?????) but as a collective responsibility

Because I was not alone in those memories—I was surrounded by adults that saw me suffering, and often dismissed, ignored or ridiculed it. The Fear grew larger and larger; why?—to protect me. Because teachers, nurses, doctors, and camp counselors did not do any of the thousand thousand things they could have done to make that little girl feel safe. Because my well-meaning parents praised me when I was "brave" but I, a little kid, literally couldn't communicate how awful it always felt.

The Fear was not there to torture me. The Fear was and is doing her best to keep me safe. It's not wrong, there's no need for guilt. It just is.

It doesn't feel good. But maybe one day it will feel better.

[sunshine-jesse]

Control: The Strange Dynamics of Andy and Leyley or

The Incest End Is Not The Fucking Bad End, Stop Coping

EDIT:

Hey guys! This post is blowing the fuck up, but this was my first essay on this game, and I think I've had many more insightful things to say since then. Here's a link to a masterpost with all of my essays, which I'd definitely suggest reading after this one:

Anyways, without further adieu...

I heard a lot about this game going in. I knew the general story beats and the funny haha incest memes. I knew it was about a toxic codependent relationship where Ashley, the sister, acted like your standard overly-controlling person who used various abuse techniques to keep someone in line. I expected Ashley to be a yandere-type character where she was borderline psychotic, irrational, and had a skewed perception of reality. I expected her to be a crazy bitch, and I love me some crazy bitches.

But then I actually played through the game. ...That is not what I got.

The game advertises Andrew as a doormat extraordinaire who is strung along by his Very Not Good sister and has no agency of his own' that he's just a henpecked abuse victim. But in practice, that doesn't seem to be the case. One of their first exchanges that in the story is when the occultist played his music and Ashley wanted them to check it out. He says 'no', sure, but then he smirks and says 'but I'll come along if you do.'

That is not the dialogue of someone who has no will of their own, that's the dialogue of someone who willingly gives up their own agency.

This is not, on its own, a sign of anything out of the ordinary. What caught my attention with it, though, is how it flew in the face of the common narrative surrounding their relationship dynamic. But that's not the first time I noticed it, it's just the first time, in retrospect, that their actual dynamic begins to show. The first time I personally noticed it is in the choking scene.

There are a lot of ways to view this situation. But my own reading? This was not a crime of passion. This was not him trying to break free. This is him doing something he's thought about for a while. This is premeditated. In this scene, Andrew is done playing along with Ashley's shit. In this scene, I firmly believe Ashley is the victim.

Ashley is the more openly abusive of the two who seeks to do whatever she can to trap Andrew so he'll never leave her. That much is clear. But Andrew-

-clearly has these same tendencies. He says this shortly after Ashley mentions putting her name up on a call girl's wall for money. There's protective brotherly instincts, and then there's this. This is not something you'd threaten a sister with, this is something that a man would threaten his wife with, which is directly brought attention to in the story.

(hey look he accepts the framing of it being WIFE beating at face value, and says Ashley is the only one who makes him like that! HMMMMMMMMMM WONDER WHAT THAT IMPLIES???)

It also implies that this is not the first time physical force has been threatened! I mean, that much is obvious, because of the choking scene that happened before, but I more mean that this implies that Andrew either threatening or utilizing physical force is an established pattern of behavior. However, the Decay route implies that she never thought Andy would kill her (but Andrew would) which can either be for or against depending on one's perspective, so I don't hold to the idea that it's an established pattern too strongly.

Okay, so. Andrew has some controlling and possessive tendencies too. So what? Their relationship is codependent. It's advertised as such. What of it?

Well first of all, it pretty much blows the lid off of the idea that Ashley is the sole perpetrator of abuse in their relationship. I've seen a lot of people view Andrew's behavior as justified retaliation against abuse, but frankly, I don't believe that him threatening to strangle Ashley for violating boundaries by trying to hold him accountable for his actions (given the strangulation part happens after she brought up Nina's death and how Andrew was ultimately responsible) is justified. And I ESPECIALLY don't believe that him threatening to backhand Ashley for her transactional attitude towards sex is justified in ANY circumstance.

EDIT: This part was edited in from the original post for the sake of readability so they don't have to see the reblogs to see the updated version! This post gained more traction than I was expecting!

…But perhaps even more telling is what she DOESN'T do.

Pushing someone's boundaries until they lash out is a pretty common tactic in abusive relationships. It's easy to see why, too: It justifies prior behavior and paints them in a negative light to others. This can be an important aspect of using DARVO (deny, attack, and reverse victim and offender) against someone, although the two ideas aren't necessarily linked.

It's pretty easy to argue that this is what Ashley does, but if you look at the one time her boundary pushing DID go too far, when Andrew lashes out with physical violence… she doesn't do that. She doesn't blame him. She doesn't paint herself as the victim. She doesn't even try to give a reason as to why she shouldn't be killed outside of the comfort she gives him. Why is this notable?

Because the mom does, in fact, engage in what could be considered DARVO against Ashley:

(i will elaborate more on this screenshot in particular below)

Ashley is directly compared to Mrs. Graves by Andrew, and yet she crucially displays none of the habits that Mrs. Graves does. Mrs. Graves lays the blame on Ashley, but Ashley doesn't lay the blame on Andrew. Mrs. Graves tends to paint herself as the victim of Ashley, but Ashley does no such thing to Andrew. The mom denies her culpability at every turn; Ashley doesn't. Ashley tries to hold Andrew accountable for his role in Nina's death, which could be considered a kind of DARVO. But she never denies that she had a role to play in it. She just mentions that he was the one who pulled the trigger. And he was.

(and the point was more that she DIDN'T engage in it when threatened with physical violence; the perfect chance to)

In Mrs. Graves' mind, she is the victim of either Ashley, or society as a whole. In Ashley's mind, she knows what she is, what she does, and what she's about. The only thing she's oblivious to- or doesn't acknowledge, at least- is the threat Andrew poses to her. In her mind, she's the bad guy. In Andrew's mind, Ashley is the bad guy. In official art, she is the bad guy:

And yet, in the game itself, Andrew is the one holding the cleaver. Not her. Hm.

Ashley is the world's most convenient scapegoat. She allows people to mask their own worst habits and pretend they're better people than they are. She accepts this role. She embraces it. She doesn't try to deny it. But when that mask slips, people lash out at her. Both Mrs. Graves and Andy (NOT Andrew, crucially) predicate much of their self-perception on being what she's not.

But they're the ones who enabled her to become like this, every step of the way.

And that's what blew my fucking mind, and made me question just who the victim really is. She was never given a chance to be normal, because other people relied on her NOT being normal.

By the end of my second playthrough, I felt worse for Ashley than I did for Andrew, and I still do.

So. What am I getting at? What does this show me about the relationship between Ashley and Andrew?

(I also wanted to point out that Andrew does engage in DARVO too but I didn't want to distract from the behavior of the mother. Unlike what Andrew does, it doesn't require someone to reassess the narrative they have towards the game in order to realize the implications of it, whereas it's pretty easy to justify Andrew's words as not qualifying as DARVO if you buy into the narrative that he's the sole victim and/or that Ashley is the main perpetrator of abuse. A friend of mine pointed out that it's a pretty key part of the push/pull dynamic they have, and I completely agree.

However, the direct comparisons to the behavior of the mother can't be ignored no matter your narrative, so I felt as if I needed to highlight that more.)

EDIT OVER

It shows me that their relationship is all about control.

Specifically, the push and pull of who controls who in any given situation.

Andrew weaponizes his incompetence. He always looks to lay the blame on Ashley. This is drawn attention to several times, and said explicitly in the Decay route.

He is always surrendering control to her, and yet he never HAS to. He could always just say no. He could always refuse. What are the consequences? Her being upset? Well, unfortunately, it's not that easy. That's not how abuse dynamics work. He probably feels like he has to, or rather, feels like there's no other option. That he's in too deep, and stuck with her no matter what. But personally, I think it's pretty clear from his willingness to surrender control to Ashley that he still feels like he has it at points, because the moment he feels like he's about to lose it, he either considers violence, even as a child-

(the actual scene of slicing her finger is pretty sus too with this reading in mind)

-or resorts to it, outright, in both the choking scene and the vision in the Decay ending... when Ashley doesn't have enough bullets to defend herself (this will be important later!).

SO WHAT POINT AM I TRYING TO MAKE??? AM I JUST MAKING ABUSE APOLOGIA (the answer may surprise you)?

No. I don't think so.

Ashley is obviously very bad. She's controlling and uses pretty textbook abuse and entrapment tactics on Andrew whereas everything he does to her is inference, with Ashley too daft to realize just how much danger she's in until the vision in the Decay ending spells it out for her- and I don't know if a true abuse dynamic allows for one to be completely unaware of the consequences of breaking free. She could just let go of her desire for control and Andrew would be a much happier person.

And that's the point, because so would she.

I bring up control because that push and pull- that desire for control over each other- is exactly what's tearing their relationship apart, and this effect most obviously manifests in the two endings of episode 2. In the Decay ending, Ashley either tries to exert control over Andrew due to a lack of trust, or Andrew allows his feelings of entrapment to truly take root in his mind and guide his actions. In the Decay ending, Andrew becomes a true doormat with no will of his own, allowing his feelings of bitterness and resentment to fester and grow, eventually resulting in their deaths.

In the Burial ending, Andrew does the exact opposite. He takes control of the situation and does exactly what Ashley would do without much of a fuss. This eventually culminates in THAT scene (assuming you take the Questionable route), where his facial expression alone speaks volumes:

Look at how fucking confident this man is. This is not the face of someone who's unsure of himself; this is the face of someone who knows exactly what he wants and takes it. He is absolutely in control of this situation, and everyone is happier for it.

And what does Ashley have to do to get this ending?

Let's go back to Decay for a moment. If Ashley has bullets in her gun, she has control over the situation. She, at any point, could put an end to Andrew and survive. And yet, at the very end of it all, she could choose not to. She could choose to surrender control to Andrew, allowing herself to die. And that ending, I believe so much of his life and willpower will have decayed that there's nothing left for him to take control of, leaving him no choice- or rather, no use for the control he now has- but to die with her.

And in the Burial ending, she has to let him out of his cage before it's too late. She has to surrender control to him, and when she does-

-He will become everything she ever needed him to be.

It's all about her surrendering control, and it's all about him taking control. Because, no matter what, as long as that happens... the two of them will be together forever.

In life...

...or in death.

How romantic.

So no, the incest end is not the fucking bad end. They're going to be together forever in the end either way, so they might as well live through it.