#honestly my only 'complain' (if you wanna call it that) on this subject is that... Jennette doesn't look like Ana's daughter At All

[ultramarine-spirit]

Rereading wmmap I realized that claude's mom has the same bangs as Athy and Claude and I love that Spoon did that 😭

You are right! She has the same type of bangs as Claude and Athy do. I think Spoon did a great job with their character designs showing how they are related to one another. They don't look identical, but are similar enough for you to think they are from the same family, especially Athy looking a lot like Diana and Claude, but also like young Anastasius. (I like to think that LP!Athy especially resembles Claude's mother. They have a similar fragile and melancholic air).

In other manhwas there are times when I wouldn't be able to tell characters are related if the plot didn't explicitly say it, so I think Spoon's special attention to detail and love for parallelisms really shines here. Sure, the jewel eyes are an obvious sign of Athy being Claude's daughter and Ana's niece, but their hairstyles are similar as well, the shape of their eyes and faces, and even their expressions and mannerisms. And yet Athy is also so much like Diana. She has the same wavy hair and slender figure, her smile is exactly the same, and she shares Diana's bright personality with a stubborn side, as per Claude's words (and apparently also the love for sweets, going by that one Diana chibi). I think her character design is the perfect balance between Claude and Diana's sides!

[bunnylovesani]

A Birthday Affair 2

Summary: Past midnight is when the real birthday celebrations start and the best gift you could’ve asked for is to get stuffed. Full of cake, of course. You just better hope Padme doesn’t wake up.

Content warnings: P in V sex, oral sex, cheating, generally immoral activity lmao

WC: 3.2k

“Would you stop whining about it already? Give me a fucking minute to put on my shoes and I’ll get you the stupid replacement.” Anakin yells in Padme’s direction, on his way to buy you another birthday cake after the last one went up in flames.

“It’s not for me, it’s for her!” She points at you and Anakin sighs, giving you an apologetic look.

“Yeah well, she doesn’t seem to be half as fussed about it as you are.” He grabs the keys by the door and throws on a navy blue baseball cap. “Be back in twenty.” He seems to say only to you and the act of defiance doesn’t go unnoticed by Padme.

“God, what a jerk. I don’t know what’s gotten into him lately but he seems to be even more unbearable than usual.” She steps out onto the terrace of your shared apartment and you follow her. “You spend every day with us, tell me- has he said anything to you? You know, about us?”

You shuffle on your feet nervously and let out a huff. “No, nothing.” You decide to keep your lies simple and easy to follow.

“That’s even worse!” She whines. “He doesn’t mention me at all?”

“I didn’t say that.” You deflected nervously.

“So he does talk about me?” Noticing your hesitance, she puts her hand on your shoulder reassuringly. “Relax, you can tell me. You’re my best friend in the whole world, I’d never get mad at you for telling me the truth.”

“I got something that’d test that theory.” You think as you scratch the back of your head.

“Look Padme, I don’t know what to tell you- I mean he doesn’t talk badly about you, but he doesn’t mention you all that much either.”

She pauses for a moment and takes a step back, observing you closely.

“So what do you guys talk about then?” She shoots you a scrutinising glare.

“W-what?” You kick yourself for how suspicious you’re coming across.

“You heard me. We’ve been roommates for a good couple of months now.” She paces up and down the terrace. “When I’m at work and you two are alone, what do you talk about?”

“Oh, you know. The usual. Nothing special.” You reply honestly. Up until this evening, you hadn’t crossed any boundaries with Anakin- unless you count your fantasies. In which case you’d crossed them multiple times in multiple different positions.

She looks at you with narrowed eyes, processing your response for a moment before she releases a heavy sigh.

“I’m sorry, I’ve been feeling a little paranoid recently.” She slumps down onto a plump deck chair and breathes in the cold night air. “He seems distant, like he’s not really here with me, you know?” You take a seat beside her, not sure whether it would be more morally reprehensible to comfort her or to change the subject.

“I don’t know Padme, it’s between you guys- I don’t wanna get involved.” You hear the irony in your words as soon as they leave your lips.

“Of course, ‘m sorry for being such a downer- and on the eve of your birthday too! I’m gonna throw you the biggest rager tomorrow, I’ve invited so many cute guys - just for you.” She rambles excitedly and you bite your lip in guilt.

A short while later, Anakin comes home to a very lukewarm reception from Padme, who complains that the cake he bought isn’t good enough- it wasn’t the right size, the right flavour or the right colour. You thought it was perfectly fine.

After a brief but heated argument, Padme decides to call it a night and retreats into her bedroom down the hall.

“I’m sorry about her.” Anakin whispers, treading lightly over to you. “She’s acting even more insufferable than I’m used to.”

“Funny, she said the same thing about you earlier.” You smile, knees feeling weak when he returns it with his own twinkling grin.

“I can’t wait until it’s you I get to go to bed with, not her.” He speaks softly, reaching up to brush his knuckles against your cheek.

“Me neither, but we can’t do things like that anymore. Not until you deal with Padme.” You vowed, looking over his shoulder.

“I know, I know, I’ll deal with that soon-“

“Anakin! Come to bed!” Padme interjects with a high-pitched and entirely repellant screech.

He rolls his eyes so far back into his head you wonder if they’ll ever come out again.

“I’m coming!” He yells, throwing his arms into the air with a measure of agitation you’d never seen before.

“I gotta go, angel. I’ll see you in the morning yeah? My pretty birthday girl.” He grabs your chin lightly before planting a peck on your forehead and retreating into the bedroom with an indignant sigh.

You stayed up for a little while longer, deciding to tidy the mess of pillows and plushies strewn along your bed. As you readjusted your teddies, you let out a dreamy moan at the memory of your romp earlier this evening. You snake your hand between your thighs as you sit down, feeling deliciously sore- head spinning with the reminder of how right it felt to have him buried inside you. Only being granted the pleasure of having him once wasn’t anywhere near enough- you felt like you were going through withdrawal, unable to form a single thought that wasn’t about him.

Resigning yourself to a long sleepless night, you slipped your most expensive silk nightie on and crawled under the covers. Glancing over to the clock on your nightstand, you saw that it was 1 minute past midnight- officially your birthday. You wondered if Ani got you anything nice, focusing on hypothetical presents rather than allowing your guilty conscience to creep in.

Speaking of creeping in, you hear the door knob squeak with a careful twist and a festive pyjama-clad Anakin enters your room.

“Ani! What are you doing here?” You whisper, motioning to securely close the door shut.

“Sorry, I couldn’t wait- just had to come see you. Happy birthday, baby.” He hands you a charming white gift box wrapped tightly in a pink silk bow, his large palm making it look tiny.

“Can I join you for a minute?” He gestures towards your bed and you’re torn.

“Oh Ani, you shouldn’t have. I-I don’t know, what if she catches us?” You try to reason but your attention has been stolen by the pretty box, which you eagerly pluck out of his hand.

“She’s out cold.” He perches at the foot of your bed. “You hear that? Sounds like a grizzly bear operating a chainsaw.”

You giggle at his words and peel back your covers, inviting him to lay beside you.

“Or a congested walrus.” You add.

“Driving a bulldozer.”

“Well now you’re just exaggerating.” You laugh into your pillow while Anakin shushes you, playfully hitting you with your teddy.

Clutching the box as you untie the delicate ribbon, you pull out a polished gold necklace with a satiny heart pendant- engraved with the letter A.

“Ani, I love it! But-“

“I bought this a week ago.” He interrupts. “My heart belonged to you long before you gave me your body. I want you to wear it and the next time I see Padme, I’ll tell her everything.”

“Really? The next time?” You ask incredulously. You’d expected this to drag on for a lot longer.

“First thing in the morning, angel.” He reassured you soothingly and you melted into his arms.

“Okay, help me put it on.” You tittered excitedly as he clipped the necklace in place, the delicate pendant lingering over your collarbones.

“Thank you. It’s perfect.” You held it in your hand and planted a soft kiss on his lips. Pulling away slightly, you darted between his dreamy eyes and his parted mouth, trying to resist temptation.

Before you could give in first, Anakin gripped your jaw with his hands, pulling you in impossibly close to kiss you deeply. You sucked on his tongue, moaning at the subtle taste of vanilla cake frosting and minty toothpaste.

“No, wait. We shouldn’t.” You proclaim breathily, though you know your empty words were nothing but a pitiful attempt at making you feel like you’d at least tried to abstain.

“Then why does it feel so right?” He silences you by pressing his lips against yours once more, all resistance fading away under his gentle touch.

You squirm under his weight as he climbs on top of you, kissing and sucking his way down to your thighs, which he pins open until the sides of your knees are lying firmly against the bed.

“Can I taste you, sweetheart?” He asks in a hushed tone, rubbing his thumbs against your soft skin.

You nod in response, hoping that on some level not speaking would make this whole thing less sinful. Anakin doesn’t press you for a verbal response, taking no time at all before he pulls your panties off and delves his tongue into your pussy. Your hand flies over your mouth as you slip out a breathy moan, the warm feeling of his mouth enveloping your clit overwhelming you. His nails dig into your fleshy hips and his grip around your thighs strengthens- swollen veins protruding through his forearms as the adrenaline courses through his blood.

You whimper into your heart-shaped pillow, gnawing at the frills as you feel the tip of Ani’s tongue working circles into your sensitive bud.

“You taste so good, baby.” He raises his head and you take in the sight before you: lips parted, wetness dribbling down his mouth and half-lidded eyes glaring at you lustily. “I can’t wait angel, ‘m sorry.” He mumbles, getting on his knees and dragging you down by the legs. He doesn’t bother removing his plaid pyjama bottoms, simply pulling them down and letting his cock spring up over the waistband, achingly hard. You can practically see it throbbing, the tip a glistening dark pink.

“Can I? Please, baby.” He whines, rubbing his tip along your soaked folds. You nod once again but he seems unsatisfied.

“Talk.” He demands simply. “It still counts as fucking even if you didn’t say a word.”

You frown at him, not appreciating how he just burst your bubble.

“Fine.” You huff and he raises an eyebrow.

“Are you giving me attitude?” He comes closer, tip kissing your entrance. “‘cus now would be the wrong time to do that.” He hisses and slides right in, filling you up all at once and giving you no time to adjust to his size. You mewl and writhe beneath him, gripping the sheets as he puts all his body weight on you and covers his hand firmly over your mouth.

“Do you want her to hear us? Shut up and take it.” He spits venomously as he gives you deep and slow thrusts, his cock reaching all the way up to your guts. You moan helplessly as he holds you in a near headlock, silenced with his strong arms and legs pinned wide open to make way for him. Your legs tremble as your pussy greedily accepts his length, squeezing it with its plush walls.

“Slutty little pussy, ’s gripping me so tight.” He grins against your neck. You’re not sure what it was about sex that brought out such a dominant and mean side to Anakin- but you weren’t complaining. The sound of arousal filled the room, your wet slickness gushing against him as his balls slapped against your ass. Hearing the lewd sounds, he slowed down a little, cautiously guiding his cock into you in such a way that would elicit the least amount of noise.

Just as you fell into an entrancingly good rhythm, a knock was heard at the door.

“Hey, you sleeping? Anakin’s gone somewhere.” Padme’s sleepy voice reverberates through the door.

You look to Anakin for guidance with an expression of panic but he looks completely calm- doing nothing besides slowly removing his hand away from your mouth, still sheathed in you. You consider not replying and pretending you’re asleep but quickly realise the light of the lamp shining under your doorway is a dead giveaway.

“Um, I’ve just gone to sleep now.” You answered with bated breath, wondering why Anakin hadn’t pulled out yet. “Has he really? Dunno where he could’ve gone.”

As if this exchange wasn’t challenging enough, Anakin begins fucking into you again, a wild smirk plastered on his face as he thrusts in and out.

“Ugh can I come in?” She whines, no doubt wanting to rant about her failing relationship. The hunk on top of you reaches down and starts rubbing your clit, staring into you with great amusement as you unsuccessfully attempt to bat him off.

“Uh- um, no Padme I’m sleeping, ah we’ll talk tomorrow!” You tremble, hoping your words didn’t come out too shaky.

“What are you doing in there? Are you okay?” Suddenly the door swings wide open and Padme walks in on the sight of her boyfriend on top of her best friend. You only catch a glimpse of her face for a moment- a screwed up expression of horror and disgust- before she turns around and reaches for the vase on top of your chest of drawers. Anticipating her reaction, Anakin towers over you protectively as Padme hurls the glass vase in your direction- the water spraying over you both as it flies over the bed, smashing into a million tiny pieces against the wall.

“You fucking whore!” She screams. “And you! You jerk! How could you fuck my best friend?!” Anakin throws an unphased glance her way for a moment before turning his gaze towards you, brushing his hand against your face gently and locking your lips in a soft kiss. The look of adoration he gives you, ignoring Padme completely, reassures you that you are the only one worth his attention.

“Oh, I’m gonna be fucking sick.” She splutters as she walks out of the room, slamming the door shut and mumbling curses to herself.

“Ani, get off! I need to go talk to-“

“You don’t need to do anything other than be in this moment right now, with me.” He pins you down by the wrists and glares at you, pushing in until the very base of his cock is flush against you. You want to fight him, to get up and chase after your friend but the pleasure has made your legs numb.

“You can leave when I’ve made you cum.” He rasps, resuming his heavy thrusts and you can’t do anything other than cry out his name- no point being quiet now that she knows, right?

“That’s it baby, let everyone know who you belong to.” He moans, brows upturning and mouth parted. He looked so pretty like this, damp curls brushing against his forehead and plump lips formed into an inviting o shape. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head and your throat ran dry as you felt the tip of his smooth cock gliding roughly against that spot that drove you crazy.

“Fuck Ani, ‘m gonna -“ The words flew out your mouth as your release took you by surprise, seizing your whole body in ecstasy and eliciting a torrent of guttural moans from your pretty lips. He buried his face into your chest, groaning against your bare tits as he joined you in cumming, painting your walls with his seed.

Ani was nothing if not a man of his word- so he rolled off you straight after, freeing you to leave.

“I would advise against what you’re about to do.” He speaks calmly, covering his lower half in your sheets and stretching his toned arms out before placing them beneath his head.

You ignore his comment, throwing on a bathrobe and leaving the room to see Padme- furiously stuffing articles of clothing into various bags. A nauseating fear overcomes you when you realise you have nothing to say to her.

“Don’t.” She snaps, noticing your lingering presence. “Don’t even come near me. You are dead to me.” You twiddle your thumbs standing in the doorway of her room, not sure what you were expecting.

“I’m sorry Padme, I really am. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.” You mumble, barely above a whisper.

“You didn’t mean to slip and fall on his cock?” She has angry tears pouring frantically down her round face. “That doesn’t seem like the kind of thing that happens by accident.

“I meant I didn’t mean to hurt you.” You clarify gently.

“Well, you did. Oh my God, I can see his cum pouring down your leg.” She points in disgust and you cross your legs. “Is that what I saw earlier? I thought you spilt water or something, God I’m so stupid.”

“No, you’re not, this is all-“

“You’re right. This is all your fault, you dumb fucking slut. You’re nothing but a brainless whore.”

“That’s enough.” Anakin emerges, dressed in nothing but his boxers, a thin veil of glowing sweat coating his toned abdomen. “This was all my fault. If you have anything to say, you say it to me.” You cower behind him, thankful for his protective presence.

“Oh, I have plenty to say.” She barges past you both, carrying her bags out into the hallway. “A year’s relationship thrown away for a quick fuck. With that skank.”

“Don’t call her that.” He gruffly responds and you can’t help but think he’s being harsh.

“Spare me. What are you, her guard dog?” She scoffs, tears dried and replaced with a scornful bitterness. “You’re going to regret this. When the novelty wears off and you realise she means nothing to you, you’re going to come crawling back.”

“That’s highly unlikely.” He looks unperturbed, amused even - strangely nonchalant over the dramatic events unfurling before him.

“Yeah, we’ll see about that.” She jibes, throwing her coat on and getting ready to launch another venomous attack your way when she’s interrupted.

“I love her.” Anakin states simply, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“You what?” Padme stops dead in her tracks, looking aghast.

“You what?” You parrot softly and he turns to face you, tenderly taking your face into his gentle hands.

“I love you.” He repeats, not an ounce of shame or regret in his words.

“I-I love you too, Ani.” You grab onto his wrists and gaze into his eyes with an adoring vulnerability.

“Rot in hell, you crazy motherfuckers.” Padme peels her eyes off the appalling sight before her, grabbing her bags and leaving the apartment with a thunderous slam of the bolted door.

You watch her leave with a troubled countenance painted across your face- but Ani never takes his eyes off you.

“I guess it’s just us now.” He smiles peacefully and you feel all your worries melt away.

“I guess it is.” You smile back, wrapping your arms around his strong neck and joining your lips in a passionate, cathartic kiss.

It’s not that you didn’t like Padme, nor that you were the kind of woman to choose a man over her friends. It was just him. You couldn’t help it- from this day forward you knew you would always pick Ani over anything else in this universe. Without a shadow of a doubt, he was your soulmate.

@crazy4hotmen @erinkeifer @mortalheartache @arzua10 @mugwump327

Part 1 here

[tangledinink]

Chapter Twelve of I'm Sorry, Teenage Mutant What Now? is up!!! It's the moment you've all waited for-- the reveal. :000 They boys discover some things about themselves (things they once knew) and visit an unfamiliar place (a place that was once familiar.) Read it on ao3 or below the cut!

[ prev ]

The group’s shocked silence lasted for two, maybe three seconds before it quickly morphed into chaos.

“That’s him! That’s the goat!” Mikey shrieked, pointing wildly. “That’s the goat who has Dad!”

“Leo! Call 911!” Raph commanded. Leo scoffed loudly.

“No way! I wanna kick this guy’s ass. Make Donnie do it.”

“What?! No fair! I’ve called 911 the last six times! It’s someone else’s turn!”

“You have not! I called 911 last time!” April protested.

“That one doesn’t count!”

“Well someone’s gotta--”

“Enough!” Goatman snarled, absolutely bristling, waving his arm sharply. The air around them suddenly felt colder and stiller, and Leo shuddered, gritting his teeth as his posture stiffened. “I am not here to listen to your silly arguments. I am here to bring you home, so you can finally fulfill your purpose.”

Leo gave a short snort of laughter. “Hm, yeah, tempting, but our Daddy actually taught us not to go with creepy sheep strangers, even if they offer us free candy, soooo…”

“What?! Candy? No! I’m talking about your purpose! The reason you were created-- to eliminate the human threat! Come with me, and I can unlock your full potential!”

“How many divine purposes have we got again? ‘Cause I’m starting to lose track,” Mikey complained. Leo rolled his eyes.

“Eliminate the human threat? Yeah, uh, maybe you haven't been paying attention, but in case you haven’t noticed, we’re literally humans.”

The yokai paused for a moment. His face twisted, and he hunched his shoulders back before he gave a forced laugh. “Humans?” He echoed. “Humans?! Surely you aren’t fooled by those silly trinkets! You can’t possibly, actually believe…”

“Oh my god. This guy is, like, for real crazy,” April observed, raising her brows.

“No, you are fools!” He hissed in return. “Humans?! These ridiculous forms are completely fabricated! These are not your true selves! You are experiments! You are soldiers! You’re mutated turtles-- my greatest creations! The creations of Baron Draxum!”

“Baron Draxum? Okay, well, we’ll deal with him when he gets here… Oh… Oh-ho-ho wait! You’re doing that, like, sinister talking-about-yourself-in-third person thing, aren’t you! Oh my god, that’s rich!” Leo snorted.

“Hey! Only Raph can use the third-person!”

“I’m sorry, did he say turtles?” Mikey questioned.

“Oh my fucking god…” Leo laughed, clutching his stomach. “Turtles? I’m sorry, we’re mutant turtles?”

“This guy can’t be serious,” Raph muttered.

“Uh, yeah, I’m pretty sure we would have noticed by now if we were reptiles,” Donnie scoffed, one hand on his hip. “Let alone subjects of some kind of biochemical experiments. Which I am intimately familiar with, by the way. Do you have any idea how many community gardens I’ve been banned from?”

“This can’t…” The yokai shook his head, a hand on his brow. “How could you be tricked by such simple magic? I will show you if I have to.” 

“Oh, I’d love to see that,” Donnie muttered.

“Come with me--”

“You are out of your damn mind if you think we’re goin’ anywhere with you!” Raph cut in.

“Maybe if you prove that turtle hypothesis thing you have going on, we can discuss it from there,” Donnie laughed, one brow quirked, sounding caught somewhere between exasperated and amused. Honestly, this whole thing was a little bit fucking hilarious. It was also fucking horrible and scary because their dad was missing and a magic criminal had them cornered in an alley, but like. Seriously. Mutant turtles? You can’t make this stuff up, dude.

Draxum sighed very deeply, scowling at their group.

“Very well,” he said, and he snapped his fingers.

Things became unfunny very, very quickly. 

If the air had become cold earlier, now it became startlingly hot, just for a moment, the alley rising up at least five degrees, and Leo heard this choked, startled gasp that he immediately recognized as his twin brother. At the same time, a blinding, almost familiar flash of white light overtook the alley, and Leo hissed, flinching away. 

When he looked back, he was horrified to find that where his brother had been standing just a moment ago there was instead some sort of green, scaled creature, their eyes slitted and their skin leathery and bumped, and he thought, what the hell happened to my brother? And after a moment of silence, all of them staring in dazed shock, the reptile flailed, floundered, held its own hands up to its face as if to examine them, and promptly began screaming. 

And Leo recognized his own brother's screams, so instead he was thinking: what the hell happened to my brother?!

“What did you do?!” Leo shrieked. Behind him, Mikey screamed, too, and he could hear April spluttering out an impressive string of curse words. He just barely resisted the urge to race over to Donnie’s side, to check if he was okay, (he’s not okay, he knows he’s not okay,) to try to help him, to fix it, because he couldn’t just turn his back on the enemy in front of them-- couldn’t ignore the very obvious threat.

“I simply removed the cloaking enchantment as he requested,” Draxum responded calmly. He even looked amused, almost, the very corners of his lips turning up.

“You what!? What the hell are you-- fix it!!! Turn him back!!!” Leo demanded, his voice rising with the very edges of panic, his pulse climbing ever-steadily higher the longer he listened to his siblings scream.

The other sighed deeply, tilting their head to the side. “Do you still not understand? Fine, then. I’ll show you as well.” 

Snap.

Leo wouldn’t describe the experience as painful, but it really wasn’t pleasant, either. He swore he could feel his skin being stripped away and reforming; it was like his skeleton itself was being rearranged, his entire body becoming fluid for just a split second before solidifying again in new places, new patterns, new spaces. An unfamiliar weight pulled at his shoulders, forcing his spine to bend, and his hands and feet fell in a way that now felt unnatural to him. His skin seemed to lay over his muscles differently now.

He was vaguely aware of Mikey screaming somewhere behind him a second time, echoing Donatello’s continued wails. 

“Guys?” April bit out, her voice high and frightened.

What the hell happened to him?

“What-- what did you do?” Leo repeated himself, his eyes wide, straining, because his vision was ever-so-slightly different than it had been a few seconds ago and he didn’t know how to adjust. He swore to god he was frozen in place. He wasn’t sure when he had ended up on his knees, but he was shaking so hard, he supposed he wasn’t surprised.

What the fuck happened to his body?

“Now are you convinced?” The yokai pressed. “Now, we will be going to my lab whether you want to or not. We can either do this the easy way or the hard way. I would highly recommend the easy way,” he hummed, giving a sharp sweep of his arms. Wind tugged at his back and Leo had just barely the presence of mind to glance behind him, his eyes widening in horror to see this huge expanse of black opening up behind him. 

Mikey-- (Mikey? They were small, they were wearing Mikey’s clothes, it must be Mikey--) yelped loudly, the inky cloud yanking him from his feet. April jumped, attempting to grab her baby brother, though she only succeeded in falling into him-- both of them swallowed up into the portal. Raph gave a strangled howl of protest, diving right after them, and Donnie was sucked up as well, disappearing from Leo’s sight. His heart thudded wildly in his ears. He could feel the magick yanking at him, trying to pull him in as well. 

But Leo had always been the fastest. 

Every shred of him was screaming to follow, to chase after his family, to go with his sister and brothers, but he tensed his muscles, his stance widening and holding firm as he set his sights back on the yokai towering before him. A tiny voice in his head whispered in his ears that following wouldn’t help--

No, he had to move forward. This guy was the one hurting them.

Get him.

Leo wasn’t sure if he had leapt forward or if he simply was there. Everything was moving too quickly for even him to follow, the blinding white of panic and rage eating hungrily at the edges of his vision, threatening to overtake him. Either way, he lunged, a cry of protective fury wringing itself from his chest.

 "Stay away from my brothers," he snarled, his own throat staggering painfully with the force with which he screamed out his warning, his hands flying forward to grab the yokai by his throat, slamming into him at full speed. He felt the alien velvet fuzz of Draxum’s skin beneath the tear of his fingernails (claws) even as the pair of them were flung from their feet. Gravity was stolen from them both, the portal behind them reaching out to consume them. 

Everything went black. For just a second, tumbling through nothingness, floating through the sizzling rush of magick itself, Leo couldn’t see anything. He couldn’t hear anything, all he could feel was the body of the yokai against him, struggling against his grip, attempting to throw him away. 

And then this bright, searing lavender light came singing through the world. It didn’t reflect or bounce; nothing was lit up by it. Leo still could not see himself, could not even find the outline of his own hands or fingers. But this brilliant, complex pattern of the palest, gentlest pastel purple lit up bright before him, swirling and twisting in foreign shapes, and Leo just barely recognized that the ribbon of runes they formed echoed the shape of the yokai he had just grabbed.

The body he was clinging to went limp.

The next second, the wind was knocked out of him as they made impact with stone, light coming streaming back into his universe. Leo found himself landing in a heap in their new location, the portal disappearing behind them. Oddly, however, the crash landing didn’t hurt near as much as he would have expected it to.

“Leo!” He heard Raph cry. Leo groaned, still dazed, looking around blearily. Where the hell were they? He glanced over at the yokai who he had yanked through the portal with them, only to find them in an awkward slump just a few paces away, completely limp and seemingly unconscious. 

“Are you okay? What happened?” Raph demanded, moving quickly to his side. Mikey was already all bundled up in his arms, shaking like a leaf and absolutely clinging to him for dear life like he was going to fall apart if he let go. And Leo couldn’t even blame him if he did. Mikey had always been the smallest of them, and Raph always the biggest, but Leo thought dimly that the size difference between them now was fucking bananas.

Jesus christ. Raph was fucking huge. And… spiky. Was he a goddamn dinosaur? What the fuck.

“I-- yeah-- I-- I think the goatman got knocked out--” He stammered, still reeling slightly, trying to collect himself, to gather himself, adrenaline still rushing through his veins like it was a racetrack. 

Somewhere in the background, Donnie fucking screamed, and Leo immediately forgot about everything else, his head whipping around. 

“Donnie!” He cried, on his feet in a second, rushing over to his brother’s side. He had no idea where they were, not having yet taken stock of the location. He was only dimly aware that they were someplace cold and dark, with stone and concrete above, below, and around them. Donnie had pressed himself up against one of the walls, his entire body rigid and his head bent forward, his arms fluttering wildly beside his head in such a way that Leo recognized he was fighting not to hit himself. Good job, Dee. The screaming continued, but every wail that wrenched its way out of Donnie’s mouth was short and grinding, repeating itself over and over like an alarm. It was fucking terrifying. Not for him, but for Donnie, because he could tell that they were completely, totally not in control. Just panicking.

“Hey. Hey, hey, it’s okay, I’m right here, Don. It’s alright. It’s okay, you’re safe, I’m right here, hermano,” he tried to soothe, forcing his voice down, calm, steady. He knew better than to touch Donnie, but he would reach over just long enough to tap a button on the side of his headphones that he knew would flip the device into white noise mode. Donnie jerked slightly in response, and the screaming stopped, at least, but he didn’t relax. His arms still fluttered and flapped anxiously, and he shifted just enough to begin rocking back and forth, clenching his jaw and grinding his teeth so hard that Leo was afraid he was going to hurt himself. His chest absolutely shook with the panicked, shuddering breaths he was taking, hyperventilating so hard that his entire body trembled in response.

“Come on, Donnie, it’s alright. It’s okay. We’re safe, Mikey and Raph and April are safe, we’re gonna be okay, but you’ve gotta breathe, dude. Can you try it with me? Like this? We’ve gotta calm down a little bit--” Leo pressed on because this was not his first rodeo. He wasn’t quite as adept at handling these things as their dad was, and at this point, Donnie was pretty good at avoiding meltdowns and panic attacks, armed with tools and tricks and years of therapy, but sometimes they were unavoidable and Leo had always known how to calm them down, always been able to step up and help, the same way Donnie could for him--

But Donnie wasn’t calming down. Donnie wouldn’t even look up at him. Rather, Donnie scrunched up harder, curled his lips, and fucking hissed at him.

And, okay, look, it wasn’t the first time Donnie had hissed at them. Donnie used to love to hiss at people when they were little kids, though nowadays he was more likely to express annoyance with declarations such as “groan” or “scoff” or “eye-roll.” But he didn’t hiss like this.

He sounded fucking feral. Even more than that, he sounded fucking terrified. He looked like a goddamn cornered animal, his eyes blown out and huge, the scaly skin that now made up his form stretched tight over shivering muscles and his lips drawn back over sharp, pointed teeth. And Leo looked down at his own clawed, three-fingered hand and came to a horrible realization.

He couldn’t help because Donnie couldn’t recognize him. They were panicking because they were in this crazy, fucked up body that wasn’t theirs, and Leo was in a fucked up body that wasn’t his, and looking at him was just a reminder of everything wrong. He was just scaring them more. His being here was just making things worse, and Leo’s throat tied itself in a knot, swelling up as the backs of his eyes pinched with the thought.

“April,” he called, his voice cracking slightly as he desperately turned to look for his sister. She wasn’t far off, watching from a short distance with obvious worry, and she blinked in surprise at the sound of her name.

“Help me.”

---

If Leo was being completely honest, he hadn’t even realized that Donnie wasn’t still nearby. The two of them typically stuck together like glue whenever they were at school. Leo would usually lead the way, and Donnie would trail after, with Leo doing most of the talking and socializing for both of them. And once Donnie got sick of whatever they were doing, he would simply drag Leo off to sit and read or work on some project or puzzle for a while, and Leo would oblige and keep him company. Donnie was always close by, and Leo wasn’t even aware that this wasn’t currently the case, too absorbed in his latest arts and crafts project, until he heard a telltale, high-pitched whine from across the room.

He was on his feet in seconds, abandoning the activity and his classmates to scuttle off in search of his twin brother. Luckily, he wasn’t too hard to find. Both because he was pretty loud, and also because their substitute teacher was crouched down next to him. She was nice enough, Leo thought, but not quite as cool as Miss Mitchelle was, and he wasn’t sure if Donnie liked her at all. It definitely didn’t seem like he liked her too much right now with how he was all balled up, and Leo wasted no time at all in planting himself physically between the two.

Donnie immediately gravitated towards his brother and Leo moved a bit closer in turn, giving Miss Substitute (he didn’t remember her name,) a very displeased look.

“He doesn’t like whatever you’re doing,” he declared firmly.

Miss Substitute’s expression twitched and faltered for a moment before it settled back into something patient and pleasant, though Leo still didn’t quite trust it. “Leo,” she said, “I was just trying to talk with your brother--”

“I can talk to him,” Leo assured immediately, not bothering to listen to the remainder of her sentence because he couldn’t imagine it would be all that important or interesting. He turned to face Donnie instead. “It’s okay. I can always understand him, ‘cause we have a secret twin language. We made it up. Only we can speak it,” he declared proudly, crouching down to lean in towards his brother, his arms wrapped around his knees.

Donnie was still whining a bit, curled up into a ball and shoved halfway inside of a cubby, his arms crossed protectively over his head as he rocked. And yeah, he was obviously upset, though Leo wasn’t completely sure why yet. As such, he got to work, conversing with his twin in the previously mentioned secret twin language.

… And.

Okay.

So.

They didn’t actually have a secret twin language.

But it was close enough! It wasn’t a language, per se, ‘cause it didn’t have words, just noises and chirps and trills and squeaks and babbles. But he still always got the gist of what Donnie was saying, and Donnie would get the gist of what he was saying, too, so it worked. Sooner or later, he could pretty much always get an understanding of what Donnie was meaning based on the inflection or tone of his noises, as well as calm the other down enough so that Leo could coax a couple of signs out of him, so Leo figured it was close enough to language.

Plus, the ‘language’ itself always seemed to kind of settle Donnie down when he was upset like this. Once Leo started humming and squeaking at him, Donnie gradually started to answer with his own chirps and clicks, and, little by little, Leo watched their twin’s body untense and unwind. Leo grinned, moving to sit properly by him, and Donnie moved closer, edging just a bit out of his hiding spot so he could shove himself up against Leo’s side instead, resting his head against his shoulder and settling in there, an indignant scowl still on his face.

Leo grinned, puffing out his chest a bit as he shot Miss Substitute a look. See? He told her so. He and Donnie always understood each other, no matter what, and he could always fix it when Donnie wasn’t feeling good! He was basically the best brother in the entire world. Confident that he understood the problem, he turned back to face Miss Substitute.

“He said you’re not doing the schedule right, and we’re supposed to do math right now,” he announced, crossing his arms over his chest. And he hadn’t even noticed, but Donnie was right, they did usually do math lessons during this part of the day-- not arts and crafts. “And also, he doesn’t like the paper fish we’re doing ‘cause the glue feels bad. So we gotta find something else to do,” he insisted. “‘Cause otherwise Donnie and I aren’t playing.”

Donnie nodded a tiny bit from behind him, and Leo beamed with pride. Understanding Donnie and calming him down wasn’t even that hard. He didn’t get why adults besides Dad had such a hard time with it sometimes. You really just had to listen to him. 

---

It took a while for April to calm Donnie back down, (or at least get him as calm as they possibly could be in such circumstances,) but she managed after a bit, his panicked breaths eventually dying down into something a bit more even and steady. Thank god. Mikey thought dimly to himself that he had never seen Donnie freak out so bad, but... he supposed he couldn't really blame him. 

He frowned a bit, looking down at his own, unfamiliar hands, and he curled up a bit more, his tail tucking in (oh my god, he had a tail,) as he clung to Raph's plastron (oh my god, Raph had a plastron.) And though it still held comfort, the fold of his biggest brother's arms, bundled up close and held there, this place that he had known his whole life... it suddenly felt foreign, too. Everything was hard and jagged and cold. And even worse-- it was unfamiliar. 

He kept staring at his own hands because he couldn't stop himself, and it made his stomach wobble. He wondered bleakly what his own face looked like because he had no idea. He wouldn't even recognize himself in the mirror. 

 Now that Donnie had finally settled a bit, though he was still curled up and pressed just against April's side, just barely not touching but still squeezed up small against her, Leo finally got up to his feet-- only to immediately lose his balance, falling over onto his back with a loud clunk.

"Leo!" Raph's eyes widened, his muscles immediately bunching up, ready to jump up and go grab his brother. Mikey could tell that he was just barely resisting the urge to scoop up all three of them and bundle them up in his arms and just hang onto them for a while. He had been sitting here long enough for Mikey to notice how fast his heart was beating. Mikey’s was keeping pace. Leo kind of flailed for a second before he managed to redirect the momentum to roll over onto his side, getting himself back onto his hands and knees. A wry, strangled laugh forced its way out of him.

"Alright. Well. Pro tip: center of gravity is weird now," he remarked dryly, his voice strained. "But the good news is falling doesn't even hurt anymore! So that’s great!"

It didn't get a laugh out of anyone. After a moment of hesitation, Mikey slowly wriggled his way from Raph's grip, making his way over to Leo's side. He didn't dare try to walk after watching Leo's attempt, noting that it seemed to be more difficult now without the rush of adrenaline to aid them, so he instead stayed in a crouch, sort of half-hopping-half-crawling over. Raph followed shortly after in a similar manner.

"Can I see?" He questioned softly, and when Leo didn't deny him, he leaned over slightly, moving his hoodie (which was now a very awkward fit,) out of the way enough so that he could examine the edges of his brother's new shell.

(Oh my god. His brother's shell. What kind of a sentence was that? What kind of weird, fucked up make-believe world were they suddenly in? Leo was his brother. He didn't have a shell. He had cool brown skin. He had bouncy blonde curls that Mikey had helped him bleach and dye a red streak in. He had vitiligo 'stripes' over his eyes. He had a bad habit of cycling through boyfriends and insomnia and a shockingly large vocabulary... but he didn't have a shell. He didn't have scales or stripes or claws or a tail.)

He looked anyway, running the tips of his fingers over the top of it, following the curve. He couldn't quite tell if he was feeling the texture of the shell, or just the texture of his own fingers, which were different than they had been; covered in scales, the skin thicker and rougher than it had been before. Bending his joints felt odd, and he couldn't help himself from doing it over and over, as if that might help him get used to it faster. 

 Every part of his brother’s shell was this cool, ocean blue, just edging on teal in some places, and Mikey thought to himself that, in the very least, it matched his life color perfectly. 

He swallowed hard and resisted the tears that were building up in his eyes. He didn’t want to cry right now. He didn’t even know what he was crying about. Because he was scared? Because he was overwhelmed? He wasn’t very good at not crying, but he forced it down, his hands trembling a bit with the effort of it.

 "Does it look the same as mine?" He heard himself asking, his eyes flickering over to meet Leo's (which were now not something he recognized, looking more animal than person, though they still retained the same, familiar almond shape. The color, however, he realized, was slightly different. Leo's eyes were brown. All of their eyes were brown, so dark that they were almost black, but now, instead, Leo's eyes were mismatched; one of them dark blue, like water in a cove, like the sea at night, and the other dark red, like ink with blood, like black cherries.) 

"I dunno," Leo laughed, though his voice was still shaking. "I don't know what mine looks like."

"They're... kinda the same…" Raph observed from nearby, leaning over slightly to examine them both. His voice sounded kind of hollow, like he wasn’t really there. Sort of far-off. "I mean. The parts I can see. Mikey, yours is more... orangey. And bumpier," he said. "And yours is spotty. Leo's is kinda... stripey." 

"Yours is huge," Leo observed with a chuckle, glancing over at their biggest brother, who was always the tallest and largest by a wide margin, but now absolutely dwarfed the rest of them. "And... spiky. You're all spiky. And… and fucking huge, dude. You look like you have fucking paws. And your mouth is all..." He laughed again, scrubbing anxiously at his face with his hands. "You look like a fucking snapping turtle."

Mikey paused a bit at that, glancing over at the other.

Donnie must have said or signed something that the rest of them didn’t catch, because April spoke up next, clearly addressing him. "Uhm, no, yours is... uh. It's kind of flat? And..." There was a pause. "Oh, oh my god, it's, like, squishy!" She squealed, everyone else in the room jumping in response, before she tamped down the noise, biting her lip and getting a handle on her reaction. "Sorry! Sorry, I just. I just wasn't expecting that texture, that's all! It doesn't... feel like what I thought a shell would feel like, I guess."

"Are we different kinds of... turtles?" Mikey questioned, tilting his head to the side. He wanted to laugh at himself when he said turtles. I mean, seriously, turtles? Of all the creatures in the world, turtles? Why were they turtles?

"I guess we must be," Leo sighed, resting his chin on his knee. "We obviously look different." 

Mikey frowned, and he thought that his lips might be trembling if he had proper lips anymore, but he wasn't sure if he did or if they could tremble or what that would feel like if they did. Okay, fine. Now there were a few tears. 

"Does that mean we're not brothers?" 

A beat of silence followed.

"We're not," Donnie said, and quite frankly, Mikey was surprised to hear him speaking. Small miracles? Kinda…?

"Yeah, we are. Don't be crazy," Raph immediately refuted, his brows (er... brows? Place where brows once were?) furrowing together, and Mikey was desperately relieved to see that the space in between still wrinkled into a crease the same way they always did. "Of course we're brothers."

"Evidently, we're not even the same species," Donnie hissed out bitterly, drawing himself up even closer, even smaller, into a little ball. "It's literally impossible."

"Come on, Dee--"

"We're not even human!" Donnie snapped, hunching up his shoulders. "We're not even people!"

"Hey, look, come on you guys," April tried to soothe, holding up her hands as if to calm the group. "It doesn't matter if you're turtles! It doesn't matter to me. I love you guys no matter what--"

"Oh, wow, what a comfort!" Donnie scoffed, and April bristled.

"Okay, look, I am trying to be helpful! I know that this fucking sucks but you do not need to take out your nasty attitude on me!"

Leo suddenly laughed-- loudly, painfully-- tilting his head back and letting his shoulders slump so he could stare up at the ceiling. "Oh my god. Jesus christ. We're not people," he bit out in between his barely restrained hysterics, squeezing his eyes shut. "We're freaks, dude!"

"Leo, c'mon." 

"We're not even people!!!" He repeated. "Fuck. We never even had a chance, and we didn't even know it!... Oh my god, we’re such morons!!! Hahaha-- welp! This is it! Pack it in, boys, it’s all over!"

"Leo, chill. What are you even talkin’ about?"

"Did you know I was gonna go on T?" He questioned, turning around sharply, suddenly, to face Raph. "Me and Dad were talking about it. For, like, a while now. And I was gonna start T, finally. Do you know how much I wanted to do that? Do you know how long I've been waiting to get to do that?"

Raph frowned. "Leo... This doesn't mean--"

"How the fuck is that going to work now!?" He interrupted. "How is anything gonna work now? We're fucking! REPTILES! Raph!!!"

"I KNOW THAT!" Now Raph was yelling, too, and Mikey flinched a bit, hiccuping softly as he drew himself down, retreating slightly, halfway into his shell (oh my god, he can do that now?) "You think you're the only one who was lookin' forward to stuff? I was--" He cut himself off, breathing in deep and then letting it out slow, his jaw tensed.

"Look. I know this... sucks. But it's not gonna help to just throw in the towel right now and mourn shit that we don't even know is gone yet, alright? We'll... figure it out," he said. "We don’t even know what’s goin’ on, so let’s just… let's just try to figure it out first. Okay?" 

Leo frowned. He looked down and to the side, tightening his hands into fists, but he didn't have any rebuttal. After a moment, he took a deep breath, pulling himself up to his feet for a second time. He tottered for a moment, his arms windmilling until he found his balance and this time he stayed on his feet. He looked around the room for a moment before his eyes fell on the limp form of Baron Draxum, still crumpled in a heap some odd paces away.

"What do we do with that guy?"

All of their eyes snapped over, as though they had all just remembered that he was there in the first place.

"Did you knock him out, dude?!" Raph questioned, his eyes widening slightly. 

"No! I mean. I don't think so. Not exactly," Leo said. "It's, like-- he grabbed me and some sort of mystic-magic-whatever thing happened. He lit up with a bunch of symbols and he just... went down. I dunno what happened." 

"Well," Raph said, sighing deeply before he pulled himself to his feet as well, doing a similar rock and wobble to Leo before he figured out the new balance he had to strike, correcting his own footing. His long tail swung back and forth behind him, assumedly on instinct, to help. "We dunno how long he's gonna stay down, so we oughta find a way out of here and put some distance between us and him ASAP. We already know where Dad is, anyway."

"Maybe we can figure out where we are," Donnie mumbled bleakly, pulling himself to his feet as well. He seemed to struggle much less than his brothers did, and Mikey noted that his back rounded less than theirs. April got up as well, sticking close to his side, but perhaps hovering a bit less now. 

Mikey watched as his family rose up, one by one, finding their feet again. And something in his chest unwound and loosened again. A breath he hadn't realized he had been holding came tumbling out of him.

He didn't know his own face anymore. And he didn't recognize his brothers when he looked at them.

But they were still them. Already, Mikey was completely sure of it. And the change, while still terrifying, felt just a tiny bit less devastating. 

He hadn’t lost them yet.

Bracing himself for the coming challenge, he rose up to his feet as well. The unfamiliar weight on his back was more than he had expected and attempted to drag him down, and he stumbled slightly, nearly toppling over onto his back the same way Leo had the first time-- but Raph grabbed his wrist before he could, pulling him forward and correcting him, and Mikey was relieved to find his center of gravity once more. Usually, he would complain about his big brother stepping in, preferring to do things on his own rather than being 'babied' by his older family members, but...

 Right now, it was actually okay. 

"Okay. Let's do this." 

(They took about three steps before Raph yelped and tripped over his own tail.)

---

Though they had tied up the so-called "Baron Draxum" with whatever rope and other scrap they could find in this place, (the longer they were here, the more Donnie began to suspect it was a lab of some kind,) none of them were very confident that it would be able to hold him for very long, if at all, and so they all got to work trying to figure out an exit. But to call this place 'maze-like' was a bit of an understatement.

"This is the worst landmark ever," April hissed in frustration as they turned a corner, only to once again be met with a hog-tied yokai, face-down on the concrete. "We keep going in circles!"

"Okay, look," Donnie sighed. "I know we don't want to linger here any more than we have to, but let's look around a bit and see if there's anything useful lying around to get us out of here. Clearly just walking out isn't getting us anywhere." 

There was a chorus of grunts and mumbles of agreement from the rest of his family, and the group slowly fanned out, beginning their search. It was dark here, wherever they were. The ground beneath his feet was cold, with him and his brothers having already ditched and stowed their sneakers and boots after realizing how awkward and painful it was to walk in them with their new wide, two-toed feet. 

The space was wide and almost circular, with various tunnels branching off at different levels, all leading away to who-knew-where. Several desks and tables were scattered about the space, each surface covered in everything from charts to pipettes to oddly-shaped jars filled with oddly-colored substances. Donnie just barely resisted the urge to sit down and start working, or to begin snatching and pocketing things as he found them. Instead, he took a liberal amount of photographs of everything they found on his phone.

 His impulse control could only get him so far, however, and his eyes narrowed as they fell across a small, purpley-pink gem that lay on the desk, suspended within a small glass case. This certainly looked interesting... Geology wasn't really a passion of his, but something about this just seemed... intriguing. He couldn't quite place it...

 Surely no one would miss this, right? It was small! It would be silly not to take it, quite frankly, and he slipped it into his pocket as quietly as he could when he was sure no one else was looking. 

Now, if only he could find some blueprints of the tunnels... But that would be too easy, wouldn't it?

"So," Mikey said after a minute or so of them searching, and Donnie sighed internally. Of course, they couldn't expect him to stay quiet for that long. "If Raph is a snapping turtle, and me and Leo are turtle-turtles, then what kind of a turtle is Donnie?"

Donnie rolled his eyes, scowling. "Okay, well, first of all, do we really have to discuss this?" He hissed, immediately bristling. "I’d highly prefer we not address the proverbial elephant in the room, thank you! Second of all, 'turtle-turtle' is not a species."

"Yeah, but, like, we have turtle shells!" Mikey explained. "But April said yours is squishy. So what does that make you?"

Donnie sighed deeply. Talking about this made his skin itch.

"A softshell turtle, I suppose."

"A softshell?" Leo questioned, raising a brow. "That's a thing?"

"Yes."

"How do you know that off the top of your head?" Raph questioned.

"Some of us actually paid attention during biology classes," he responded dryly. And having a near-photographic memory did, admittedly, help as well…

"Whoa!" Mikey absolutely beamed. "That's so cool! Now we just gotta figure out what kind of turtles me and Leo are!"

"Well, I'd look it up if we had any service. And also if it was even close to being an appropriate time for us to waste our efforts on something like that," Donnie said with a roll of his eyes. He knew that Mikey was just distracting himself, finding a silver lining so he didn’t break down, but Donnie didn’t want to think about it, didn’t want to think about how much of their entire lives was completely fabricated, about how--

He snorted, suddenly doubling over with laughter.

"What?" April questioned, raising a brow.

"I just-- I just realized!" Donnie laughed. "Our... our moms must be turtles! Fucking turtles!"

There was a beat of silence as this sunk in before Raph gave a similar reaction. "Damn! I guess you're right, huh?"

"Do you have any idea how much time I wasted in therapy talking about this?" Donnie squeaked out through giggles. "I spent so much time with Mossy talking about our mom and how she didn't want us or whatever the fuck and about the stuff she did to Dad and how I couldn't remember her, and she-- she was never even real! None of that ever even happened! She was just a fucking turtle, wasn't she!? We don’t even have a real mom!"

"Whoa! Mind... blown. I didn't even think about that..." Mikey gaped, his eyes wide. "This whole time I just assumed that our mom was probably the hotel lady..."

"Yeah, me too," Leo agreed.

Donnie blinked.

"You what?"

"Well, you know, that woman that Dad was datin’ right before he disappeared," Raph said. "And she runs the Grand Nexus Hotel, right? All the articles I ever read always mentioned her."

Donnie's eyes twitched. "You thought she was our mother?" He questioned.

"Well, that's who Dad was datin’ last! And for a long time, too. It'd make sense, wouldn't it?" Raph defended.

"Yeah. You didn't think that?" Leo said.

"NO! Why would I think that?!" Donnie was laughing again.

Leo huffed in offense, crossing his arms over his chest. "I'm sorry, do you know something we don't?"

"Apparently!" Donnie exclaimed. "Guys, you've seen pictures of her, right?!"

"Well, yeah?" Mikey tilted his head to the side.

"She's pale as fuck!"

"So?"

"And our Dad is Japanese!"

"And? Donnie, what's your point?"

"We're black!"

"... Ooooohhhhh," all three of his brothers said, nearly in unison, after Donnie's argument finally sunk in.

"Oh my god," Donnie laughed, covering his face with his hands, scrubbing tears from his eyes. "You're all so fucking dumb..."

"I guess our mom would have had to be black. I mean. We got the Japanese half from Dad, but... I never really thought about where the other half came from..." Raph admitted, his mouth still slightly agape like he was still rolling the thought about in his head. 

"Wait a minute," April said, her hands on her hips. "I mean, yeah, all that makes sense, but if you guys have secretly been turtles this whole time, then why are you black?"

"Dude, are all turtles black?" Mikey questioned, his eyes widening.

"I cannot discuss this any further. I'll get a migraine and furthermore cease to function, as I am, and I cannot stress this enough, just barely suppressing the gravity of this whole situation right now," Donnie sighed, gesturing to himself as he turned back to the desk in front of him. "Did anyone find anything yet?"

"Not yet," April sighed, shuffling through some papers. "What even is all this junk?"

"I'm not sure. Some sort of research, it seems like..." Donnie mused, sort of thumbing through a book as he spoke, reading key phrases and chunks of text as quickly as he could and making mental notes so he could refer back to it later. He was more than happy to have something else to focus on, though this would admittedly be a lot easier with human hands. "But I'm still not sure where--"

Shhhh shhhh.

Donnie paused mid-sentence, his brows furrowed. He hadn't noticed that sound before now. He tilted his head a bit to the side, turning in its direction, trying to zero in.

"... Donnie?"

"What's that noise?" He questioned aloud, though his voice was barely above a whisper.

Shhhh shhhhh.

He knew that noise. He recognized it. Where had he heard it before?

Shhhh shhhhh.

... Water, he realized with a start. The noise was running water. Of course. How had he never realized this before?...

That's what he was hearing. That's what he had heard.

"Dee? You good?"

"Guys," he said, turning just enough to glance over in their direction. His face suddenly felt like glass. It was odd. "I think... I think we're in the sewer," he said. "... And I think we've been here before...?"

Before anyone could say anything further, a new noise filled up the space.

Skrrrtttccchhhhh.

---

"What was that?!" Mikey shrieked, immediately leaping behind his biggest brother to hide. Leo and Donnie were instantly gravitating to each other as well, falling into stance on instinct as they stood back to back, each covering the other. 

"It sounds like something scratching," April said thoughtfully, and true to her word, the same skritching noise clawed its way through the air a moment later, echoing slightly against the walls. "I think it's coming from over here!"

"April!" Raph hissed off a protest as she took off, heading in the direction of the sound. "We don't know what that is!"

"We will if we go look!" She chirped in reply. I mean, come on, what was the benefit of hiding over here instead of investigating? Weren't they curious either way? Besides, they were stuck here regardless-- maybe they'd find something helpful.

The noise continued as April searched, peering around corners and down tunnels, until, finally, she found her prize. Tucked inside one of the off-shoot tunnels, one of the many dead-ends that seemed to surround this space, was a proverbial treasure trove. A variety of odds and ends filled the space; various amulets and scrolls and chests and even weapons were leaned up against the wall or stacked up on the ground. In fact, a lot of weapons were in here. Was this some kind of a weird armory? Or a trophy room? What kind of sewer has a trophy room?

But most interestingly, she found the source of the noise. Inside a small, dimly lit orb, looking as though it were made of some sort of glass, or perhaps even light, was one of the oddest creatures April had ever seen, clawing sadly at the surface of its prison. It had ears like a chihuahua, pointed and too big for its head, with tufts of fur poofing out from inside, but huge eyes like some kind of a cat. Pointed tusks stuck from its mouth like a boar, but soft, downy yellow-and-blue fur covered its entire, squirrel-like body, complete with a fluffy, wriggly tail.

"AW, you guyyssss!" She called out. "Come look! It's cute!"

"April!" The guys were right behind her, with Raph leading the charge. "You can't just run off like-- jumpin' jack flash! What the heck is that thing?!"

"I dunno!" April said with a shrug, immediately making her way into the room, scooping up the orb so she could examine it, looking for a way to open it up. The little critter inside pattered about excitedly, its claws clicking against the smooth surface. "Help me figure out how to get him outta here."

"Are you sure about that?" Leo questioned. "No offense, but we have nooo idea what that thing is! Maybe it's, I dunno, locked up for a reason?"

"What? C'mon, guys, we've gotta help!" Mikey protested, turning on them with big, pleading eyes. Nice, April thought, with Mikey on her side she had basically already won. Suck it, middle children. "Plus, he was locked up by Draxum. So he can't be bad!"

"Yeah! Ever heard ‘the enemy of my enemy is my friend?’" April added in.

"I'm not convinced," Donnie said, crossing his arms over his chest. "I mean, has anyone else noticed that pretty much everything else in this room is a weapon of some kind? Isn't that maybe a bit telling?"

"Aw, come on, Dee. Look at this face!" April insisted, holding up the orb to the others. The creature, to their credit, played their part, pulling an absolutely pitiful face which Mikey immediately echoed, turning to his brothers with watery eyes. 

Checkmate.

"Okay, okay, fine. Look, there's gotta be something in here that can help us bust him out..." Leo muttered, beginning to pick his way through the contents of the room with Raph, Donnie, and Mikey following suit shortly after. 

"Here, what about these?" Leo said after a moment, turning to face them with a pair of twin katanas in hand. "Think I could slice that bad boy open with these guys?"

April scoffed, clutching the orb close to her chest. "Uhm, and this guy in half, maybe!" She protested. "Can we try something a little less deadly, please?"

"Aw, come on! These are cool," Leo protested, grinning as he twirled them in his hands with a metallic shwing.

"You just like them because you always win at any swordsmanship event at tournaments," Donnie remarked dryly, grabbing a long wooden staff to hold in his hands, testing the weight of it. "... That being said, should we maybe grab some of these just in case?"

"Whaddya mean?" Raph glanced over at the other.

"Well, we haven't even made it to the Hidden City yet, and we've already been attacked once," Donnie reasoned, placing a hand on his hip and frowning. "So it wouldn't exactly be a bad idea to have some weapons on hand in case of an emergency." He spun the bo staff in his hands appraisingly a few times. "I mean, obviously this is a bit underwhelming, but I'm sure I could make some improvements once we got back home..."

"Sounds like a good plan to me! Look at all the stuff they’ve got!” Mikey cheered, immediately diving in, beginning to sort through all the various options they had in the room. He chuckled darkly, swinging a pair of nun-chucks in his hands. “These’ll do…”

“Yo, guys!” Raph called, waving to get his brothers’ attention before pointing to the very far corner of the room. “If we’re gonna take stuff, why don’t we take the glowy ones?”

There was, in fact, a weapons rack filled with floating, vaguely glowing weapons, tucked away in the shadows, which only made the glow all that much more tempting. They were simply begging to be taken.

Mikey and Leo, almost in unison, gasped, their faces absolutely lighting up as they raced over to join Raph. “Ooh, dibs on the sword!” Leo cheered, immediately snatching up the odachi and repeatedly striking poses.

“Hot soup! Check me out!” Mikey snatched up a bright orange kusari-fundo, absolutely beaming ear-to-ear. Raph was nearly drooling as he laid his claim on a pair of tonfas, beaming as he gave a few experimental swings. 

“They’re perfect! No one’ll mess with us now!”

“What about you, Donnie?” April questioned, tilting her head back to glance at the remaining brother. “Don’t you want a glowy weapon?”

“And add yet another unknown, uncontrolled variable to our current situation? I’m good,” Donnie scoffed, rolling his eyes. “I’ve trained with a regular, wooden bo staff. I’ll fight with a wooden bo staff, thank you very much. You all have fun with your likely-radioactive weaponry,” he said, waving them off. 

“Here, April, I got something for you, too,” Mikey chirped excitedly, scampering over to present his find to her. “Ta-da!!! Baseball bat!”

It wasn’t a baseball bat-- it was a club. But close enough! April gasped in delight. “It’s perfect!” She enthused, immediately snatching it up, rolling it around in her hands and tapping it against the side of her shoe a few times. Ooh, and the weight was perfect, too. “And I think it can help us get little guy out of this ball thingie, too! Leo, come hold it still for me!”

 "Aw man, why do I gotta hold it?" Leo muttered in complaint but did as he was told regardless, kneeling down to hold the orb steady, taking care in the placement of his hands to minimize the chances of broken fingers.

 "Alright," April said, backing up a bit, her tongue sticking out from between her lips with focus. "This won't hurt a bit..." 

She swung the club back, taking care to temper her strength, and brought it down on the little ball prison with a satisfying crunch. 

"Did it work?" Mikey gasped, his eyes wide as he leaned over. The orb was not shattered nor laying in pieces; but the side of it had caved in considerably, a spiderweb of cracks blossoming from it, and a second later, it simply dissolved as if it had never been there in the first place. The creature that had previously been trapped inside cracked one eye open, having squeezed itself into the very back of its cage, flinching at the oncoming impact, gave an absolute trill of excitement, darting about in celebration.

"There we go!" April said, grinning wide, her hands planted on her hips. "See, told ya I'd get you outta there! That's better, right?"

The little yellow beast threw itself into her lap, wriggling with joy and nuzzling at her with an enthusiastic wag of its tail. "Okay, okay! You're welcome!" April laughed, giggling as she allowed the creature to clamber about in her arms, allowing it time to bounce about before it finally began to settle again.

"Any chance you know how to get out of here, little guy?"

---

Raph looked up from his phone and his tea at the sound of mail plopping down on the table, glancing over to examine the letters his father had just tossed over in his direction.

"For you," Dad remarked, sorting through the remaining mail from the day.

"For me?" Raph echoed, his brows rising up. "Who the heck is sending me mail?" Curiosity took hold immediately, and he abandoned the wrestling video he had been watching previously in favor of tearing open the letters on the table.

He was surprised to find college brochures inside. His father, however, did not seem all that surprised at all, even adding a couple more to the pile.

"It seems you are in high demand," Dad teased, smiling the tiniest bit. "I have received a few emails as well from recruiters recently."

Raph paused for a moment, rolling this idea about in his brain, trying to figure out what it meant and what it tasted like before he forced a small laugh, rubbing the back of his neck nervously.

"Guess they haven't seen my grades yet," he joked weakly. Dad hummed softly, pulling up a chair so he could sit down next to his eldest son.

"Nonsense," he scoffed. "Your grades are fine, Raphael. You've simply tricked yourself into thinking they're not by comparing yourself to others," he added, giving the other a knowing look. "And besides that, this is hardly the only thing that matters. I have told you many times that grades aren't everything. My grades in high school were terrible!" He remarked with a laugh. "And your career in sports is very impressive."

"I guess," Raph said, wrinkling his nose up a bit as he leaned over the table. Easy for him to say. He had a hard time wrapping his head around the idea of colleges being interested in him when his three younger brothers were right here in the same damn house! Had they really meant to send these to Hamato Raphael?

Dad's hand moved to rub little circles into his back, and he nudged his son's teacup a bit. Raph agreeably took a sip, allowing the warm liquid to trickle down through his chest.

"I know you have not always enjoyed schoolwork, Raphael," Dad finally spoke again. "But you are not stupid. You may very well have the most common sense of any of my children!" He chuckled. "And you have many talents besides that. You are a remarkable athlete, and I know I do not have to drag you over to the trophy wall to prove this to you, but I will if I have to. You are only sixteen and you are already the captain of multiple sports teams... not just anyone could handle that! It is difficult to lead a team. But you have always handled this with grace. And teaching children! That is a talent in and of itself. That is no easy task. Trust me, I know," he said, smiling slightly. "But you are doing so well with your new job. And I am very proud of you."

 Raphael glanced over at his father, for just a moment, hesitating like he wanted to say something, but then biting it back.

"You don't have to go to college if you don't want to," Dad added. "If you decide that is not the path for you, that is fine. I won't be upset or disappointed. I did not go to college, either! But I would hate for you to not even consider it just because you don't think you're good enough for it," he pressed. "I know you've always said you intend to pursue a career in sports of some kind, but this is very much an avenue to achieve that if you'd like. Many professional athletes get their start through college sports, you know. And I can already name half a dozen universities off the top of my head who would be thrilled to have you on their team in a couple of years!"

He sighed softly.

"But you do not have to decide right now, my son. There is still plenty of time for you to consider all of your options."

Raph glanced over at his father, shifting a bit in his seat, before looking to the side.

"Uh. I dunno, Pops. I mean. I'm not good at tests and all that junk. I mean. College football could be good 'n all, but, uh..."

He hesitated a second, sort of scratching the side of his jaw, hesitating a bit. "I dunno. Maybe I could... I mean. We could look at it, at least. I was kind of wonderin’ about, uh. I dunno… Just, lately, I was thinkin' about... studyin' early childhood education, maybe?..."

[ next ]

[thefanficmonster]

Idk if this is too much? Carmy having a crush and finding out or trying to help you with an eating disorder?

TW - ED talk below the cut

Hi dear, no worries, this is perfectly ok. I have been dealing with an eating disorder for three years now and I feel like being able to finally honestly express it via my fics will be therapeutic for me. Hope you enjoy these headcanons💕

Pairing: Carmen "Carmy" Berzatto x Reader (Gender Neutral) [The Bear]

Warnings: Discussions and Symptoms of an ED as well as the healing process, Swearing, Mentions of Anxiety

Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Romance, Comfort Fluff, Angst

Summary: see request above

Now that he's staring at undoubtable proof, running the reel of the last few months in his brain reveals there were many more hints he should've picked up on

The endless busying, all the declined invitations to go have dinner with the staff of The Bear, recipes you didn't want to try when he asked you for an opinion

He skipped out on the group dinner last night, opting to bring sandwiches home so the two of you can enjoy them together and finally spend some quality time with one another

A proper conversation hadn't been had in a while - you went over serious subjects like the bills and rent, the paychecks he has to give his staff, the paycheck you still haven't received etc.

Both of you had been so engrossed in the chatter, Carmy didn't think twice of it when you'd proclaimed you'd hit the hay and excused yourself to wash your plate while he finished his sandwich

Ten minutes later, he went to wash his own plate, but when he went to throw the napkin in the bin, amidst a pile of napkins and receipts peeked out the practically whole sandwich he'd thought you had eaten

For a moment he wonders if the sandwich was the problem

And then he issues an investigation

He checks the box of cereal only you eat in the mornings - unopened despite it being bought a week prior

Unopened milk carton

A full pack of eggs, once again purchased a while ago

His question was semi-answered, but the last thing he wanted to do was jump to conclusions

So he called Sydney to tell her he'd be a bit late the next day

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mumbling to yourself as you enter the living room, dressed and ready for work, you yelp when you see a figure sat on the couch, looking at you

"Damn it, Carmy, you scared the shit out of me. What are you doing here?" You question, a hand coming up to rest on your chest, feeling it race under your palm

Your boyfriend shrugs, "We always miss each other in the mornings, so I thought I'd change that. Made us breakfast and all."

He sees something in your expression wilt, but he has not time to dwell on it because your words certainly back it up

"I gotta get to work, I don't wanna be late, my boss will screech his lungs out." You barely give him a moment to process your response before bypassing him to the foyer

"You have to eat, Y/N. That asshole be damned." He protests, following you in the hall

"I'll grab something along the way."

"I know you won't." His tone coupled with his words send a chill down your spine, stopping you in the process of putting on your shoes

He's noticed

"I didn't want you to worry." He rolls his eyes at your words, sipping his coffee

"I always worry." You'd negotiated you'll only have one pancake and a cup of coffee

He didn't argue which was a relief

"I know, thanks mom."

The easy conversation you'd used to distract him from your avoidance of the food last night is now used on you

Because when he slips another pancake on your plate, you don't complain, engrossed in gossiping about your coworkers

There's a long way to go into being able to accept yourself and feed your body the way it deserves without the need for a distraction

But with a support system such as Carmy, you're given the comfort it'll be at least a bit easier to bear emotionally and physically

[trans-wojak]

I just wanted to say I saw your response to the ask about Nex and I wanted to say that the way you explained your stance is very well thought out…

I hold the same beliefs as you, and I would like to not be on Anon but I fear if my friends found I hold these beliefs that they would call me transphobic and hate me (it is a kinda complicated situation…)

I just want to say I admire your bravery to speak your thoughts and opinions so openly and seemingly without fear of being rejected because of them. I hope one day to be able to have the confidence to speak my thoughts on subjects without fearing to be criticized.

-A shy anon 🪼

I have been criticised a lot for my stance because it creates conflict and many people just dislike conflict in general, which I understand. I just avoid trans spaces online and irl these cause they are predominantly filled with trenders and “non binary”. I prefer LGBT mixed spaces cause atleast those are not just a group made up of women who ID as non binary. Since it’s LGBT and not “trans”, there is less room for radical feminist man hating bullshit cause gay men will tell them to stfu.

Non binary in my experience and research is really just radical feminism lite, it reminds me of “political lesbians” who were straight femcels out of choice. All core beliefs of non binary activism heavily align with radical feminist theory more than it does with anything about trans rights. Contrary to popular belief, many radical feminists believe that medical transition is fine aslong as you retain that you’re a masculinised female or feminised male and don’t assert you are changing your sex or try to be in any of your group’s gendered spaces. Though, this treatment is mainly only directed at trans women - they rarely care about trans men sharing spaces with cis men cause they see it as “rebellious against the evil patriarchy” and benefiting.

This is why most “detrans” TERFs you find will have identified as non binary but then switched, usually after trying testosterone and ACTUALLY getting dysphoria. If you go to non binary subreddits, there’s countless posts about being scared to start T cause “I don’t want *insert literal male sexual characteristic*” or even worse “I don’t want to be perceived as a cis male”. The comments are filled with encouragement to start T anyway, saying you can microdose to control effects (a lie, it just makes it slower), suggesting taking certain hormone blockers to literally block male sexual characteristics but get very minimal ones that could be achieved through diet, exercise and voice training. Or worse, suggestions that laser hair removal isn’t even hard or expensive, it’ll work blah blah.

These retards then go on T, get side effects that cause actual dysphoria and then go full blown radical feminist.

At this point? I think anyone who identifies as non binary should be banned from transitioning medically. I don’t think you should qualify for a gender dysphoria diagnosis unless you want to be the opposite sex; not some magical androgynous being to get out of misogyny in society.

Though I do keep my beliefs to myself in many situations to avoid conflict but I also play heavily on my autism as an excuse for things, if the government and society wanna deem me as retarded then I’ll play into it. So, no I struggle with singular they cause I’m autistic. Honestly, I actually do struggle with singular they especially if they look entirely as their birth sex. I just don’t bother putting in effort cause I don’t care about how they feel. The worst woman I ever encountered who got mad at me for this was self diagnosed autistic, had a fucking child and was raising him “as non binary” so she got mad if you used he/him. I’m all for not raising kids with no gender roles or stereotypes but doing that is gonna fuck up the kid.

I also know a woman who started T cause she thinks she’s non binary and immediately stopped cause of body hair growing. Now she complains about her slightly deeper voice and says she wants to get pregnant again but worries that T hurt her. Oh she still retains she’s non binary tho, just that she likes living as a female “cause its way more comfortable” - yeah cause you’re a cis woman!

Anyway sorry for the rant, I’m glad that my opinions aren’t all seen as me being uwu disrespectful and mean cause my intent isn’t to be “mean” it’s to use critical thinking. If you want, you can privately DM me to discuss more on this so you don’t feel so alone in your convictions. It’s one of the reasons I have stopped showing my face online publicly cause trenders tried to doxx me, dangerous at times to not believe in non binary.

[shiroi---kumo]

Are there some things you dislike about how the show/series/etc. portray the character you have picked up? If so, what?

Canon Questionnaire || Accepting

There's only really one thing I wanna complain about and it's not so much the way the series portrays him, as much as it complicates ways to write him.

And it's this:

If you look at Canon resources of him, between the two Unlimited Kumo is the crier. This honestly doesn't upset me. This honestly is something I like because it means I can work more depth into his personality, however from outside source view who does not know him as a character or a person that means he's perceived as weak when this couldn't be further from the truth.

Just because Kumo's "Mr. Smiles" in his promotional imagery ->

Does not mean he is weak or less than. I get that feeling that he's perceived that way though. He just copes different. There is strength in kindness, and tears are not a show of weakness. Sometimes I feel like Kumo gets the short end of the stick.

And the more I think on this subject, there is something within the space of the series that happens to Kaze half one and Kumo half two and it drives me in-fucking-sane, and that is one Lisa Pacifist declaring the Unlimited "human".

Every fucking time Lisa yells at Kaze "You're not even human" or declares Kumo "He's human too" or some shit like that I lose my fucking mind. Because NO Lisa, NO they're NOT. And it drives me in-fuckin-sane because if I do anything while I write Kumo it is to avoid the words 'human' and 'humanity' at all fucking costs when describing him because he is Misterican and not fucking human.

And it's OKAY that he is not human nor does he possess 'humanity'.

They're ALIEN Lisa, accept it.

I mean Kumo has horns and slit pupils! Lisa c'mon girl c'mon.

-Cue the offended sounds of one Misterican getting called human again in the background-

[miekasa]

NICE.

+ pairings: eren yeager + (fem) reader

+ genres: rich kid au, college au, friends to lovers au, fluff, light-ish angst, smut/nsfw content (everybody gets a piece)!

+ warnings: mentions of depression/anxiety, mentions and use of drugs and alcohol, some of the smut happens under the influence so be cautious if that’s something you don’t like, i swear this is all more idiots in love than angst tho i just wanna disclose everything fairly

+ notes: this is alternatively titled super rich kids and you can probably figure out why. some of this is based off of real life, some of it is straight out of gossip girl and i challenge you to separate the facts from the fiction :’) anyways, i hope we all remember the lyrics to in my feelings

+ more notes: one quick reference for ages in this fic—all the vets are older but not by that much, think various stages of grad school. armin, connie, sasha, annie, and bertholdt are all college sophomores. eren, the reader, and pretty much everybody else are college seniors, so they’re about a year or two older. also here is a playlist for your reading pleasures, shoutout to ryn for letting me mooch of their spotify account :’)

+ word count: 19k. i’m sorry.

+ summary: fuck you, fuck you, you’re cool, fuck you.; or the story of notorious rich kid and self-proclaimed bad boy eren yeager, and his not so goody two-shoes best friend.

“So you’re saying that you don’t love me? That you’re not riding? That you’ll actually leave from beside me?”

“I’m saying that it’s ass o’clock in the morning and I’m not driving in the rain to Brooklyn to pick your sorry ass up.”

“But… but I want you, and I need you, and I’m down for you.”

You check the time on your phone screen and groan. 3:57am. Far too early to be dealing with the likes of Eren Jaeger. “Just get an Uber or something. I don’t know what you and your idiot friends were up to this time, but I don’t want any part of it.”

“First, they’re our idiot friends. Second, I don’t think they let you take Ubers from jail, and even if they did, it’s, like, four in the morning, so I don’t think there are any Ubers driving around, so could you pretty please come pick me up? I promise I’ll make it up to—”

“From where?” you cut him off, slowly sitting upright in your bed. You hold your phone closer to your ear, ready to listen again; because, certainly, you must have misheard him the first time. You wait, but the line is silent, save for Eren’s awkward chuckling. “Eren Asher Jaeger, tell me that that was another stupid lyric from that stupid song, and that you are not in prison right now.”

Eren makes a sad attempt at laughing. “Technically, it’s a holding cell, not really prison… and I would leave, but they suspended my license for a month, and Min can’t drive yet, so we kind of need you,” he explains, “Uh, no pun intended.”

“Min?” you pull your eyebrows together at the mention of the younger’s name, “Is Armin with you?”

“Uh, yeah.”

With a frown and a heavy sigh, you push yourself out of bed, wedging your phone between your shoulder and your ear as you grab the nearest pair of sweatpants.

“Why did you get him caught up in whatever stupid shit you were doing tonight?” you complain, scanning your dark bedroom for a shirt to wear, “Erwin’s going to castrate you when he finds out.”

You curse as you stub your toe against the edge of your bed on your way out of the room. Given the time, weather, and the fact that you have several exams to start studying for, hanging up and leaving Eren in the middle of god knows where Brooklyn doesn’t seem like such a bad idea, but you couldn’t go back to sleep knowing that Armin would have to suffer with him.

“Relax,” Eren breathes in a tone all too nonchalant for the situation at hand, “He didn’t get charged with anything, and nothing’s going on his record.”

“You don’t know that,” you retort, sliding your raincoat over your free arm, as you paddle down the stairs of your apartment, “The NYPD suck.”

“True,” he hums, “But I paid off the cop, so it’ll be fine.”

You pause in your steps, but really, you shouldn’t be surprised. “Of course you did,” you mumble, moving again and grabbing your car keys off of the kitchen island.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he questions. His tone is actually genuine and it tempts you to roll your eyes.

“What it always means, Eren,” you sigh, stepping into the elevator, “I’ll be there in thirty minutes.”

“Thank you, baby. I love you.”

“Eren?”

“Yeah?”

“Get off my line.”

He doesn’t have time to throw in another pitiful “I love you” before the line goes dead and he’s met with static silence. He hangs up the station telephone with a silent chuckle, turning around to face Armin and Officer Hannes.

“Someone’s coming to pick us up,” he says, trying to focus on Armin’s sigh of relief and not the warmth creeping up his neck and into his cheeks, “I’ll, uh, call a tow for the car in the morning.”

The cop, too tired to care, only shrugs, and pays them no further attention. He hands Eren a plastic bag with his car keys and newly suspended license, escorts him back into the cell, and returns to his desk. Eren gives Hannes the finger while his back is turned.

Beside him, Armin is still quivering; bouncing his leg up and down, fiddling with his fingers, gnawing on his bottom lip. Eren frowns, a heavy wave of guilt washing over him as he takes in the younger’s anxiety ridden state. It wasn’t fair that Armin could have potentially suffered legal consequences because of his stupidity.

Eren’s lucky that Hannes was sleazy enough to accept his bribe and let him off with minimal punishment. With that they were doing, things could have ended up far worse for the both of them tonight.

“I’m sorry, man,” he apologizes, hands stuffed in his front pockets, “About tonight, I mean. We—I shouldn’t have done that, not with you there.”

Armin looks up at him with sparkling, doe eyes and Eren wants to punch himself in the gut for making him go through all of this, even if it didn’t amount to an actual arrest. “You couldn’t have known this was going to happen.”

“I could have prevented it,” he says. Because it’s what you would have said, too.

“It’s not your fault, I wanted to come, remember?” Armin tells him, redirecting his gaze to the grey floor of the precinct cell. He takes a deep breath, almost calming down completely when a sudden thought reignites his nervous ticks, “You… they’re not gonna tell my parents, right?”

“No, no—of course not.”

Armin was legally an adult; he, nor Eren, nor the police had to tell his parents anything. Sure, Hannes could rat them out, but honestly that sounded like way more work than he was cut out for; not to mention he’d be bound to reveal that he let them off easy for a couple thousand bucks.

Armin nods, “And… that wasn’t Erwin on the phone, right?”

“Are you kidding me? He’d murder me on the spot,” Eren says. He pauses before tacking on, “I, uh… I called (_____).”

“Oh,” the younger gapes, “She’ll kill you, too.”

“Yeah,” Eren sighs, scratching the back of his neck in nervous anticipation, “Trust me, I know.”

“You have your access card on you, right, Armin?” you ask. He nods sheepishly, hand on the car door handle.

“Thanks again for coming to get us,” he says meekly, “I’m sorry about waking you up and everything.”

You offer him a warm smile through the rear view mirror, “Don’t worry about it, I’m just glad you’re safe. Text me when you get up tomorrow, okay? We can get brunch, my treat.”

His face lights up at the prospect of free food, and he nods once more, enthusiastically, but his expression falls again when he speaks, “Okay, and I’ll, um, pay you back for the tickets and stuff as soon as I can—”

“It’s fine, really, don’t worry about it,” you repeat.

“It was almost three thou—”

“You forget who you’re friends with,” you cut him off with a smile, “Don’t worry about it, okay? It wasn’t your fault.”

Armin’s eyes dart to Eren quickly, before clearing his throat, a light pink tint to his cheeks. You know that the prospect of money can be a sensitive subject for Armin, one easily triggered by his very environment, but this wasn’t negotiable on your end. You know that Armin doesn’t like the feeling of owing anyone anything, but he knows he won’t get you to budge; so, he quietly nods, appreciative of your generosity, before bidding you and Eren a final goodnight and sprinting towards the dorm. Once you see that he’s safely inside, you wave one last time, and wait for the door to shut behind him.

Slowly, Eren turns to the driver’s seat to look at you. You were eerily calm when you came to pick him and Armin up from the station. You didn’t yell, cuss, or punch him in the face like he expected. You politely talked to the officer, thanked him for his service, paid their fees, and up until now, you’ve shown no signs of being angry with him at all.

The two of you drive back to your shared apartment in complete silence, Eren too confused, and borderline scared, of initiating a conversation. He wonders if you’re too tired, or if you really don’t give a damn anymore, but when you pull into the underground lot of your building and put the car in park, he finds out the silence was simply the calm before the storm.

You take your hand off of the gear shift and turn towards him. It’s a quiet stare down for nearly a full minute before you break the mime act with a slap to his thigh.

“Drag racing? Are you out of your fucking mind? Of all the stupid shit you’ve done—and you’ve done a lot of stupid shit—this has got to take the cake. Just what the actual fuck were you thinking?”

“Ouch!” he inhales sharply, rubbing over where you’d hit him, “We were just having fun! Then these other guys showed up and started talking shit so—”

“Having fun?” you echo, “You couldn’t think of anything fun to do that’s not illegal in every borough of New York City?”

Eren feels his cheek flush, but he only huffs with the illusion of disinterest, “I don’t know why you’re freaking out so bad. I’m a good driver, it was those other squids that got us into shit, I’m telling you. They showed up looking for a fight, then ran like a bunch of pussies when the cops came.”

You exhale slowly, shaking your head in disbelief. You seem to have no other words to say to him, choosing to step out of the car and slam the door behind you. Eren quickly follows, slamming his door equally as hard, and hot on your trail as you march towards the elevator.

“(_____), come on, enough with the silent treatment,” he whines when you stick yourself in a corner of the elevator after pushing the button to the penthouse, “I told you I didn’t start shit, Armin and I got ratted on.”

“I couldn’t give a rat’s ass about whether or not they started it, Eren. You’re still the problem here.”

“Me? How am I the problem?” he pulls back, eyebrows drawn together in genuine confusion, “I just told you I didn’t do shit.”

You scoff, crossing your arms and shifting your left leg, “I’m not doing this with you right now.”

“Doing what with me?” he presses, tone growing icy.

“This, Eren!” you reiterate, “I’m too tired to hear your bullshit right now.”

The elevator dings and opens into your apartment. You push past him, continuing your deliberate strides through the living area, and to the stairs, but Eren catches you with a hand on your wrist before you can go any further.

“Will you fucking stop that,” he growls, “If you’ve got something to say, then stop running away from me, and just say it.”

“Funny,” you sneer, pulling your wrist away from him and settling both your feet on the bottom step, “You’re one to talk about running away from things.”

He takes a step back, standing just a notch below you, perfectly frozen in place. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means your little drag racing episode was not only dangerous and immature, it was you running away from your problems like a spoiled child, yet again.”

Eren’s features narrow at your accusations; eyes fading into hooded slits, lips curving downwards, and voice bobbing low, “I’m not running away from anything.”

“Oh, please, Eren,” you roll your eyes, arms retreating to their crossed position in front of your chest, “Cut the bullshit.”

“I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.” But he bets that even in the dim lighting of the apartment, you can see the tips of his ears growing red, just like they always do when he’s lying.

“Oh, really?” you ask, eyes widening in mock surprise, “You don’t think I don’t know this whole thing has something to do with the fact that your mom came home on Friday?”

Another pause. “Who told you that?” He asks, but it comes out more like a statement.

“Nobody had to,” you snap, “Jean said he caught you with a sack of coke over the weekend, and I knew something was up.”

“It wasn’t mine, I was—”

“I said cut the shit, Eren. If I went up into your room right now I bet your ass I’d find more than enough of it in a shoebox somewhere.”

He retreats, almost bashful, but unapologetic all the same. “Fine, whatever, I did a few lines. Big deal.”

“The big deal is that you think this is fucking normal, and now you’ve upgraded from coke to getting yourself arrested! It’d be one thing if you were acting like a misfit on your own, but to drag Armin into it because you—”

“Drag him into it?” he echoes with the snare of sarcasm dripping from each syllable, “You talk about Armin like he’s six. I don’t know why you think he’s some helpless little baby, but you have no goddamn responsibility over him. He’s not your fucking charity case.”

“I never fucking said he’s my charity case—don’t you ever fucking say that,” you say, “Having some basic respect and concern for my friends isn’t charity.”

“Wake the fuck up! You baby Armin when he’s a grown ass man. I didn’t force him into the fucking car to get sympathy points from you.”

“Grown? Armin is barely nineteen, disowned by his parents, is on a full fucking ride to an insanely expensive university, and you got him arrested tonight! Do you know what could happen if NYU found out? They could fucking kick him out, take his scholarship away—and then what, huh? Or were you just gonna buy off the headmaster, too?”

“You’re acting like I fucking planned for it!”

He’s screaming now, voice bellowing throughout the apartment, face red—and he doesn’t mean to, he doesn’t mean it at all; but it’s late, and he’s tired, and those shouldn’t be excuses, but he’s too prideful to back down.

“Of course you didn’t! You didn’t plan for anything, you were just being a reckless, irresponsible asshole like always,” you tell him, too blind-sighted by anger and the need to chide him that you miss the teary undertones in his words.

“And what’s it matter to you?”

“It fucking matters to me when you call at some godforsaken hour asking me to pick you up from prison!”

He takes a step forward, right leg elevated by the same step that both your feet rest on. “Well, what else am I supposed to fucking do!” He shouts even though he’s mere inches from your face, “Tell me just what the fuck I’m supposed to do instead!”

“You’re supposed to act like an adult and fucking talk to someone!”

“Who the hell am I supposed to talk to, huh?” he presses, taking a step forward and forcing you to retreat backwards, and up a step, “My mother who’s never home or her bastard boyfriend?”—another step forward for him, another step backwards for you—“The step-brother I can’t get in contact with?”—one step forward; one step backwards—“Or maybe the dad I never had, right?”

“Me, Eren!” you yell back with equal vigor, throwing your hands up at your sides, and planting your feet firmly. “Armin, Mikasa, Jean—anyone! You have people who fucking care about you! Stop treating us like correction officers, we’re your fucking friends!”

There’s silence for a while, just you and Eren staring at each other, heavy breathing, waiting for the other to make the next move. He opens his mouth, but when he tries to speak, his resolve washes away, his throat tightens and the words get sucked back in.

It would be easy to keep yelling, screaming, blaming you for blowing up on him. He used to think the scolding he got from you after pulling some stupid stunt was the worst part; but now, he thinks it might be his favorite part. He hates to hear you scream, and it hurts to see you cry, but if you’re yelling, you’re angry that he hurt himself; you care that he’s okay.

“I—” he stutters, words quiet and broken, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for it to get like this tonight, it was an accident I—”

“You never mean for any of it to happen, yet it always does,” you interrupt, voice soft yet strained, “I know you have your own shit to deal with, but so does everybody else.”

“(_____), please, you’re right, okay? I should have said something before,” he admits, mouth small as he voices his confessions, “I should have talked to you or one of the boys, but I—I don’t know what else you want me to say.”

He’s groveling now. Mouth in pout, eyes wide, voice small, and honestly, he thinks he might cry. At this point he doesn’t care if he does.

“I want you to mean it,” you finally say, and when he looks up, he hates the look he sees in your eyes. It’s something between sad and hurt and empty and it’s awful. Someone like you shouldn’t feel that way. He shouldn’t make you feel that way.

“I—”

“When you’re ready to tell me exactly what’s going on with you—what’s happening that made you think going to jail would be better than facing your issues—I’ll be here to talk,” you continue, eyes watering, “But until then, goodnight, Eren.”

Eren winces when you turn around and ascend up the remaining stairs. He flirts with the idea of following you, going to your room to finish talking, but you’re probably angry enough to have it locked. His room is up there, too, but he opts for part of the sectional, laying down with the palms of his hands kneading against his closed eyelids.

For as long as he can remember, you’ve been there for him. Your friendship, at times, was like a game of tag—Eren always on the run with you loyally chasing after him; he’d always run amuck, and you’d always be there to catch him in the act. Now, it’s five in the morning, there’s no more yelling, no more chasing, no more racing, but he’s still running.

The following morning, you take Armin out to brunch, as promised. Jean tags along too, something about hanging out with the two of you being infinitely more entertaining than his genetics lecture. It doesn’t seem like Jean knows anything about Armin and Eren’s late night antics, so you don’t bring it up yourself.

Oblivious, Jean chats your ears off as if nothing is awry. Whether he knows it or not, he does a great job of distracting Armin from his own thoughts. They both eat to their heart’s content when you remind them you’ll foot the bill; and you don’t bat an eye when Jean convinces Armin to order his third round of pancakes. He deserves it.

Afterwards, Jean convinces the three of you to go window shopping with him in SoHo, claiming that he needed inspiration for his latest fashion assignment (you don’t question why he’s taking a fashion class as a biology major, but you suspect it has something to do with Mikasa). Window shopping soon turns into actual shopping, so almost completely unprompted, and with little effort on his part, Armin gets a few pieces of clothing on your behalf, while you try to ignore Eren’s words itching at the back of your mind.

Armin’s not a baby, but he certainly is a kid with a rough past and rough relationship with his parents at a time in his life where he arguably needs them the most. A little extra support from his friends wouldn’t harm him.

It’s nearing six when the three of you are wedged in a small booth inside a café, indulging in overpriced hot chocolate. Three sips into his second cup, Jean excuses himself to the bathroom, leaving you sitting across from Armin.

“You know, you don’t have to keep buying me stuff to make up for Eren,” Armin says, a small smile playing on his lips.

“I’m not trying to make up for him,” you sputter, careful not to spill your drink over your lap, “You had a rough night. Just accept my gifts, don’t be a brat.”

“I do accept them. Erwin’s been eyeing that Off White sweater for, like, three weeks now. He’s gonna have a hissy fit when he sees me wearing it.” You chuckle, and he continues, “But you know, as much I love spending time with you, you can’t use me to avoid Eren forever.”

“I’m not avoiding him,” you frown.

“You said you were going to take us to brunch, and then spent the whole day with us.”

“Funny, I recall you saying something about how much you love my company about thirty seconds ago.”

“He’s called you at least ten times today.”

“I was spending the day with my favorite NYU student… and Jean,” you bat your lashes, “I see you maybe once a week. I live with Eren, I have to see him every day.”

Armin calls your name with a pout, “He’s sorry, you know.”

“Not sorry enough,” you mumble. Armin opens his mouth to say something again, but then Jean’s sliding back into the booth, chatting about how he’s finally come up with the perfect anniversary date for Mikasa.

Armin doesn’t notice your sigh of relief, but he does take note of the way you wipe away your notifications when a text rings through. If Eren could spend his days running away from his problems, then you could, too.

Despite being arguably the greediest of you all, Jean loves company, so he doesn’t hesitate to say yes when you ask to crash at his place after your shopping escapades. You expect to be welcomed with sounds of screaming, laughter, and loud music, but to your surprise his apartment is completely silent upon your entering.

“Bertholdt has class and Marco has a meeting,” he prompts, as if he could read your thoughts. He shimmies his coat off his shoulders and tosses it over the bar in the foyer.

Their apartment has the same amount of rooms as yours and Eren’s, but is all stretched along a single floor. It’s more of a maze, really, with intricate turns, and hallways, that all more or less open up into the expanse of the foyer and bar. Their living room is your favorite part. A dark, brown leather sectional wraps around the back three walls and an oversized flatscreen encased in an ebony frame takes center stage. A collection of vinyl records litters the walls above the couch; each of the boys contributing their favorite discs as décor.

“If he has class, shouldn’t you have class?” you question, fingers dragging over the ridges of the closest record.

“I’ve had class all day, but that doesn’t mean I go,” Jean shrugs, walking up behind you and taking your jacket off your shoulders and your bag from your hand, “Besides, Bertholdt will probably cut half-way to go see Reiner, if he can even stay awake that long. Going with him is just as productive as staying home.”

“You’re all a mess,” you scoff, turning around as a cheesy grin grows on Jean’s lips. His smile is infectious, and soon you catch yourself grinning just because.

“You want something to drink?” he offers, throwing your coat over his elbow and tilting his head in the direction of the bar.

“You’re bad at mixing drinks,” you remind him, but follow him anyway.  

Jean laughs, not bothering to deny the jab. He doesn’t try his hand at anything mixed or complicated this time; simply offering you a glass of your favorite red, and pouring himself a smaller amount.

He puts the album you were gawking at earlier on the record player, the two of you sinking into the couch as lovely melodies radiate throughout the apartment.

He spends the first hour bitching about how Marco’s supposed to become a CEO in less than a year, yet has the attention span of a squirrel; but the playful lilt in the brunette’s voice, and the begrudging smile on his face lets you know that it’s all love. He gushes about Mikasa for a good half hour, cramming you with stories about his girlfriend’s talent for sewing and fashion. You also learn that Bertholdt’s been busier than usual these days, and Jean suspects it has something to do with a secret lover.

You pinch your eyebrows at his hunch. Bertholdt’s never been one for dating. He’s had many friends with benefits in the past, but they weren’t relationships, nor were they secrets. In fact, you don’t think that he could keep a secret to save his life.

“Why would he be hiding it if he were seeing someone?” you question, swirling your newly refilled glass.

“Dunno,” Jean shrugs, “But it’s sus, I’m telling you. He’s been oddly busy for someone with a 2.3 GPA. Either way, I’ll pry it out of him eventually.”

“You’re so fucking nosey,” you chuckle, watching the mischievous, satisfied grin settle onto his features.

“I kinda think it’s Armin,” Jean says after a while, downing the remaining wine in his cup, while you choke on your own drink.

“Why on Earth do you think if Bertholdt had a secret lover that it’d be Armin?”

“Because he was in love with him for, like, two years in high school,” Jean says, as if the information should be painfully obvious.

“Yeah, and Bert also hooked up with a million different people in high school.”

“That doesn’t mean he wasn’t still in love with Armin.”

“I don’t think Armin’s kissed another human, let alone is in a secret relationship with one.”

“Hm, true. I forget he’s still a virgin.”

“Hey—there’s nothing wrong with Armin being a virgin, leave him be.”

“I know there’s nothing wrong with it,” Jean whines, “But it’s so—he doesn’t have to be. Armin’s cute! And very attractive—dare I even say sexy. He could go outside and get laid right now if he just tried.”

“Stay humble, Jean boy. If I remember correctly, you only started breaking hearts a year ago,” you tut. Jean’s nose goes pink as he shoves you away when you continue, “But, if you’re so concerned with Armin’s virginity, why don’t you go help him out with it.”

“Actually, if I remember correctly, I think that’s more your gig,” he shoots back, a smug smile tugging on his lips. “Not to mention, I’m not trying to get beat up by Annie. Though, I wonder how much longer it’ll take before she finally snaps. Hey, maybe the both of you can tag team him, I’m sure Annie wouldn’t mind, and it might even make Armin less nervous to have you—”

It’s your turn to shove him now, throwing in an extra punch when his head bobs back with laughter. You’re very certain Annie would mind; you would mind if someone inserted themself in your kind of, sort of, not really relationship, and ruined your four years of pining.

“Speaking of lovers,” Jean prompts, once his laughter dies down, bending his knee and turning closer to you. “Why are you and lover boy fighting? Trouble in paradise?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you hum, sipping your drink in between words. Jean’s eyes pinch together. “Marco and I would never fight.”

“My god, will you let your Marco fantasies go already? You’ve already caused him one sexuality crisis,” Jean groans, “You know I mean Eren.”

You sigh, lowering your glass and reaching forward to pinch his cheek. “It’s nothing you have to worry your pretty little head over.”

“Please,” he scoffs, flicking your offending hand back, “He’s been texting us nonstop since this morning at, like, nine. I didn’t even know he was capable of waking up before noon.”

It’s your turn to roll your eyes, but Jean continues, “Why he would ask us for advice on you is beyond me. He knows you better than all of us combined.”

“And why you’re saying all of this is beyond me.”

“Oh, come on, what’d he do,” Jean pushes, borderline whines, as he puts his empty glass down in a cup holder embedded in the couch. He’s always been the most prone to gossip, but you forget that wine makes him even more of a nosey prick. “Must have been pretty bad. Or stupid.”

“Try both,” you mumble, “Well—I don’t know, it wasn’t… the worst thing anyone could do, but it was really fucking reckless—and why he did it, I couldn’t even tell you. I don’t know what goes through his mind half the time, but I swear he must have been on crack last night.”

“He probably was. On crack, I mean. I told you, I took an ounce from him over the weekend, but that was after Eren and Ymir did, like, five lines.”

“Do they really do that regularly?” you nearly cry, a hand massaging your temple, “Fucking Christ, if he really was high while driving, I’ll kill him myself.”

“Well, I don’t know if regular is the right word,” Jean ponders, “Maybe for Ymir, but god knows what she’s on half the time, anyways. Besides, coke isn’t the worst thing they could do.”

“You sound like you speak from personal experience.”

“Maybe,” he shrugs, pausing when you shoot him a disapproving look, “Oh, come on! You’re no angel, either—if memory serves, you were high as shit at Moblit’s birthday party, and kept singing the star spangled banner all night.”

“Yeah, on weed! One time! It was on a rooftop and the stars were out and it has the same rhythm as the happy birthday song, cut me some slack!”

He finds laughing at your expense to be much more fun, however, as he continues to chuckle while you throw a fit. He’s also not one to let a topic of gossip go undiscussed, and has no problem bringing the conversation back to Eren.

“It’s because you two don’t talk, you know,” Jean tuts, “That’s why you fight like this.”

For the second time, the younger’s words have your eyebrows growing close together. “I mean, I guess—but it’s more than that. Eren and I live together, we obviously talk, but—”

“I know, I know, but just hear me out, okay? You and Eren talk about a lot of things, yeah, but you also… don’t. And sometimes you don’t have to, because you guys, like… get each other.”

“Wow. What a way with words you have, Jean Kirstein. You should write a self-help book.”

“What I mean,” he sneers, unhappy with the sarcasm being thrown his way, “Is that you guys understand each other in weird ways. It’s actually kind of cute—sometimes a little freaky, in all honesty. It’s why you don’t always have to talk about serious things. But you take it for granted and let shit bottle up, and then get in denial about it until you blow up in each other’s faces.”

“Please, you barely passed one philosophy class and now you think you’re Plato.”

“You’re doing the in denial thing right now!” he taunts, “Come one, when you two fight like this, what’s it usually about?”

You sigh, sinking back into the plush leather of the couch, and wrapping your hands around a fluffy throw pillow. Thinking about arguing with Eren isn’t particularly something you like to do, and truthfully, you don’t really get pissed at each other that often. Not to the point of ignoring each other, at least.

“I don’t know,” you drawl, “Drugs, me forgetting things, him doing stupid shit, him thinking Mikasa could do better than you, school, drinking, the fact that he leaves his big ass shoes at the top of the stairs for me to trip over and fall to my death every morning, when—”

“His parents?” Jean cuts you off.

“I—we don’t really… it’s not so much fighting over his parents, it’s all the stuff he does to deal with his parents. He never gives his mom’s boyfriends a chance, and he never really talks about why, either. I know he’s secretly just angry and insecure about his dad, but… I don’t know. That doesn’t really make it better.”

“True,” he nods, “See—he doesn’t talk about it.”

“I know, and I told him that last night, too, but… it’s a sensitive subject for him—his dad, I mean,” you sigh, “And you’re right, he shouldn’t bottle his feelings up, but, on the other hand he’s watched his mom get married five times. I don’t always blame him for not wanting to talk about it.”

“Yeah, but just because it’s hard to talk about doesn’t mean he shouldn’t,” Jean lolls, “Wouldn’t you have rather he said something than have done whatever stupid shit he did to make you want to sleep here tonight?”

“Okay, Socrates, I get it,” you lighten up, “I’ll talk to him—or get him to talk to me. Are you happy?”

“Quite,” he says, annoyingly chipper as he rises from the couch. “I hate seeing my favorite power couple fighting.”

Jean knows his words would elicit a slap to his arm, so he takes off just before you can reach him, prompting you to chase him out of the living room and down the hall. The brunette cackles ridiculously loudly as you scream his name with profanities sprinkled in-between. You catch a hold of the bottom of his shirt and pull him back, finally flicking him on the forehead.

He accepts his punishment with pride, offering you a signature smile in return while you both catch your breaths. It’s a sweet moment, the two of you looking at each other with stupid smiles on your face, exhalations tickling your cheeks.

Jean’s eyes break the gaze first, as he looks down the remainder of your face, and back up to your eyes again. His words could get caught in his throat, but he doesn’t let them—he shakes his head, and swiftly turns around, beckoning for you to follow him.

“Come on, we can steal Marco’s clothes for your pajamas this time.”

Jean spends all of three minutes pulling apart Marco’s dresser before swiping a t-shirt and Christmas themed pajama bottoms from his room. He tosses them in your direction before leading you back down the hall and to the left, opening the door to the guest bedroom for you, before leaving you to change.

They have more than one guest bedroom, but this one is unofficially yours. Little pieces of you can be found littered throughout the room, from spare jewelry to mismatched makeup. You spot a single, gold, teardrop shaped earring on the vanity and sigh as you run your fingers over it.

You swear you’d lost it a few months ago. Trust Jean to put it away for safekeeping without telling you he’d found it. The boy in question returns moments later, knocking while walking through the door with your purse in hand.

“How’d you know I was about to ask you to get that?” you question, a smile on your face as you retrieve the small bag from his hands.

Jean offers you a cocky grin, “Cause I’m the best.”

“Don’t go getting a big head, now,” you tease, “Or, well, an even bigger head.”

Jean ignores your insult, as you take a seat at the edge of the bed, fishing through your bag for your phone to plug it in for the night. He’s about to turn around and bid you goodnight, when the flash of something orange peeping out of your purse prompts his next thought.

“Hey, you picked up your refill, right?” he asks innocently, “It should have been ready last Thursday.”

You sigh, head falling slightly when you close your bag and place it on the vanity. “Uh… no.”

Jean’s mouth is already open, ready with equally friendly and scolding words, but you cut him off before he can talk. “I was going to on Thursday, but I had class late, and then I forgot on Friday and I haven’t really had time since then. But I have a few left-overs from the last two months, so I’ve been taking those!”

Jean’s mouth closes, but his eyes narrow as he begins to walk towards you. You know he’s putting two and two together, so you speak ahead of him again.

“I know, I know, I shouldn’t have any left over, but it’s only five, I promise! I’ve been really good, lately.”

Jean’s eyes remain in concentrated slits, but his resolve is waning when he reads over your expression. His facade fades as he takes the final steps towards you to stand directly in front of your body.

“Okay,” he says, voice soft through his smile, “I’ll go with you to pick them up tomorrow before I drop you home, yeah?”

It elates him more than it should to see the smile you flash his way. Unfortunately, it’s short-lived, as his next question leaves your face twisted with guilt.

“Have you… told Eren yet?”

You consider lying and saying yes, but something tells you Jean won’t buy it. Your silence seems to speak loud enough, as his shoulders drop with a quiet sigh.

“I want to, I just… well I’m mad at him right now, and even when I’m not… I don’t know why it’s so hard,” you confess.

“He’d wanna know, you know,” Jean says, and it’s not the first time he’s said it to you, either. “You know he wouldn’t judge you or anything.”

“I know that. But, truthfully, if I had things my way, not even you would know, Jean.”

It was an accident that Jean found out that you’d been taking anxiety medication.

It was at somebody’s house party where the majority of your friends and their guests had gotten piss drunk. Reiner’s date had suggested mixing their alcohol with molly she’d supposedly had in her bag. In her drunken stupor, she’d mistaken your purse for her own, but luckily, a not so drunk Jean had noticed the label didn’t match her name, and snagged the bottle before the worst could happen.

They ended up not finding her molly, anyway, but it’s a moot point. Jean had cornered you about the bottle later in the week with honest intentions; he’d been concerned that might be another kind of drug disguised by a prescription veil. However, you’d assured him that it was indeed your prescribed Lexapro, and not a shady mixture of black market substances.

And, he’d been more than understanding in the aftermath. Quite frankly, he had somewhat made it his business to ensure that you got and took your medication on time and felt comfortable getting to and from your therapy appointments.

It’s endearing in a way that made you pause and count your blessings sometimes. Jean had been nothing but unequivocally supportive in his understanding about anxiety and had gone the extra mile to comfort you where need be. It made you wonder why you hesitated to tell Eren on several occasions.

It was probably the very nature of anxiety itself that had you doubting your trust in Eren. You wanted to tell him—of course you did—but, you couldn’t. You know that Eren would do everything in his power to make it better, even if that was just being. You know that he’d want to know and he’d kill to understand. But you couldn’t possibly burden him with your problems, not when he has a million of his own.

The one person in the world you wanted to tell, you were terrified of talking to. And you know it’s irrational to be afraid of him, but you can’t seem to control those thoughts. It’s a tiring, consuming, endless cycle.

Jean watches the way your gaze lowers to the floor. He knows exactly what you’re thinking, and, god, he swears if he could take that train of thought away from you, he’d do it in a heartbeat.

With a heavy heart and tired eyes, he takes a final step forward and wraps his arms around your body. He counts three, four seconds before you hug him back. He raises a hand to the back to your head, cradling your face into his shoulder and squeezing you tightly.

“Hey, I’m proud of you, you know that,” he speaks, just a notch above a whisper, “I know you’ll tell him when you’re ready.”

“I will,” you murmur into the fabric of his shirt. You hug him back a little tighter and close your eyes, “Thank you, Jean.”

And Jean holds on, and hopes you know that he wouldn’t let you go, “You’re welcome, (_____).”

You come home to find your entire apartment littered with flowers; in the hallway, on the sectional, atop the counter, up the stairs.

There are several boxes of your favorite macarons stacked in a small pyramid on the kitchen island, and you wouldn’t be surprised if you checked the labels to find that they were shipped straight from the south of France this morning. There’s too many bottles of Ace on the coffee table, sparkling next to a basket of what looks like your regular skincare products. A pretty, gold bow rests atop an even prettier pair of red-bottomed heels, and if you’re not mistaken, that’s a limited edition, vintage YSL clutch on the sectional, resting against your favorite throw pillow.

You sigh, making your way to the couch to pick up the orange envelope sticking out of the handbag. Just as you’re about to open it, you hear footsteps, and a voice that follows.

“You’re back,” Eren chirps from mid-way on the staircase, “I, uh, there’s catering coming from Butter coming soon. I know it’s your favorite,” he continues as he descends the stairs.

He has his hand on the back of his neck and there’s a faint, pink tint to his cheeks as he slowly makes his way towards you. You cross your arms, looking him up and down when he stands in front of you.

He’s wearing dark jeans and a tweed sweater with patches at the elbow. His hair is split down the middle, longer than usual, so the ends of sweep over his eyelashes; and there are telltale signs that he’d been toying with it.

“Eren, what is all of this?” you finally ask, shifting your weight to your right leg.

“Part one of my apology and explanation,” he replies, a hopeful timbre to his voice. You roll your eyes, but he continues anyway, “Actually, part two is in that envelope.”

Skeptical, you unfold your arms and open the envelope. You don’t know what you were expecting—a card, maybe tickets to a musical or something; but what you definitely weren’t expecting were two tickets to Paris.

“France?” you look up, tickets in hand, “You don’t get it do you? You can’t just buy all of this shit, jet us off to Europe and expect everything to be okay.”

“No, no it’s not like that—I swear!” he interjects, hands moving sporadically, “It’s just, well… Can we sit? Then I can explain everything.”

Eren looks at you with those big green eyes and that sad pout to his lips, and you find yourself sighing and taking a seat on the couch against your better judgement. There’s a small smile to his lips when you do—a little victory—and he sits next to you, your knees resting against each other as you face him.

He’s shaking, and your resolve to punish him with whatever solid exterior and half-assed silent treatment dissolves as you take his left hand in your right, and recall your conversation with Jean. “Hey, it’s okay. It’s me, Eren. You can talk to me.”

When he feels your smaller hand envelop his, the shaking stops, and for a moment, it feels like he can do this, like everything is okay. He smiles, and takes a deep breath.

“The other night, you were right, about my mom and her boyfriend coming home,” he starts, words slow and heavy, “I didn’t even know she was coming—I knew she was visiting this month, but she didn’t tell me when, and I thought it was going to be just her, you know? But then she showed up with him, and, well, I don’t know. I was upset. She’s been home for a week now, and we haven’t even gone to dinner or anything.”

He pauses, and you squeeze his hand for reassurance, “We were supposed to get lunch on Thursday, but she cancelled. Had some meeting or something, I don’t know, I don’t care. Friday comes and she says she wants to have dinner, right?”

You nod, he continues. “I thought it was just going to be us, but he was there. That’s when she told me that… that they’re…” he squeezes his eyes shut, “They’re engaged.”

Your mouth falls into a small o-shape. Everything made perfect sense now.

It’s not that Eren didn’t love his mother, quite the opposite actually. He’s a mama’s boy through and through; she’s his role model, his everything, he adores her. Her career as a designer often takes her on long business trips, most frequently as prolonged stays in Paris, so much so that she relocated her primary office there shortly after Eren graduated high school.

Now, she only visits home for one or two weeks at a time, sometimes only for the weekend. Upon her decision to permanently relocate, she planned to leave Eren under the unofficial supervision of Mikasa. Instead, Eren bought Mikasa her own three-bedroom apartment in Midtown (according to his logic, it was better for her to have her own place than to move in with Jean), and a shared two-story penthouse for the both of you that overlooks Central Park.

Eren misses her more than he cares to admit, but he puts on the same facade every time she comes home because he hates the company she brings.

Paris is where she met her newest boyfriend, Mitchell, and Eren swears he hates that man with every fiber of his being. It’s not saying much, though, not when Eren’s hated every single one of his mother’s past romantic partners, right down to his own father.

“Is… is that why you—”

“Rented a brand new Corvette and went drag racing at one in the morning?” he chuckles, “Yeah. It was stupid, I know, but I was just angry, I guess. I dunno what I was feeling, but it wasn’t good.”

You nod, wrapping both of your hands around his now and offering him a warm smile. He smiles back, just for a moment. “That’s what the tickets are for, actually. The wedding.”

“They’re getting married in France?” you question, to which he nods, “On the first? Isn’t that a little short notice to plan a wedding?”

“I think you’re underestimating the power of Carla Jaeger,” he chuckles, “Apparently, it’s been in the works for a few months now. He proposed with fireworks or some shit. Said she wanted to tell me in person, though.”

“This ticket is for next week,” you say, rereading the dates on the papers. “The wedding is three weeks from now.”

“Well, I kind of figured we could take a little vacation before then,” he grins, “I texted most of the boys earlier, and they can probably come to the wedding, but I want to spend some time with you before it gets hectic, you know? Consider it an end of the semester present.”

Your eyes flicker down to your hand, still wrapped around Eren’s, when he starts to trace circles into your skin, “I thought I just told you, you can’t jet us off to Europe to fix things.”

“You did,” he hums, “And I know I can’t—I’m not trying to, I just… Truthfully, I reserved the plane and the hotel a few weeks back and it really was just going to be a surprise for us—well, more like a gift for you because I know you’ve been busting your ass in chem—but then… everything else happened, and I think a break sounds perfect before I watch my mom get married for the sixth time.”

You watch him continue to toy with your hands for a while, processing your conversation. It was typical of Eren to surprise you like this, so you can’t figure out why this particular present leaves you feeling warmer than usual.

“You sure you don’t need a break from me?”

Eren beams and takes the opportunity to lace your fingers together. “Nah, you’re annoying, but not Jean level annoying.”

You scoff, “I’m telling him you said that.”

“It’ll sound better coming from you, anyway,” he shrugs, “Besides, I might just murder Mitchell if you’re not there with me.”

You chuckle, on the verge of accepting his proposal, but the mention of Jean prompts another thought to cross through your mind. “I’d love to, but I… I don’t know. I don’t want Armin to spend the first few weeks of winter break here all alone.”

This Christmas would mark one year since Armin had seen, or even talked to, any of his immediate family members, with the exception of Erwin.

Last year, you all tried to salvage the damage by sticking around so, at the very least, he didn’t have to feel alone. You and your friends decided that Armin ought to be celebrated, not ostracized for any aspect of himself, so you all chipped in for a cute, impromptu trip to the Catskills so that everyone could be together and close to home.

This year, however, there seemed to be quite a few conflicts of interest. Even if Armin was one of the boys who was planning on attending the wedding, you doubt he had plans leading up to it. You know that Marco, Bertholdt, Mikasa, and Jean had invited him to go to Aspen with them, but Armin declined the offer. Similarly, Connie, Sasha, Annie, Reiner, and Ymir would be off to Dubai as soon as classes ended; an invitation Armin had also turned down.

You weren’t sure what Erwin’s plans were, though you’re certain they involved his own friends in some way or another. At the very least, it was unlikely that he would leave his younger brother completely stranded over the break; but you didn’t want to make plans without knowing Armin wouldn’t be alone.

“He won’t, actually he’ll be closer than you think,” Eren reassures you, “Hange and Moblit wanted to go skiing anyways, so Erwin is taking all of them to the Alps instead of Aspen. Armin doesn’t know yet, but he’s going with them.”

“Shouldn’t Erwin spend his break campaigning, and not skiing? Last I checked, he wasn’t too popular in Queens”

“Ah, you know Erwin,” Eren shrugs, “He has a way of making people devote themselves to him. He’ll win the election with or without campaigning, trust me—the point is, that little baby Armin will be safe and sound under Erwin’s protection, and you don’t have to worry about him.”

“How come you get to call him a baby?”

“Because I’m a hypocritical asshole who doesn’t deserve you, but is hoping you’ll come with me anyway.”

Eren smirks, but there’s a genuine undertone to his words as he moves his fingers to toy with the ring around your pointer finger. The same one he gave to you two Christmases ago. Well, kind of.

The ring he originally gifted you was a Harry Winston piece, with an encrusted band that wrapped into two sunflowers, both made of classic, white diamonds with emeralds sparkling in the center. After seeing the design, and the price tag, you demanded that he take it back, or at the very least, get it sized to fit on your index finger or thumb so that people didn’t get the wrong idea.

Instead, he came back with a simple, silver chain for the original ring to hang from, and the current ring on your finger; a rose gold band with tiny diamonds studded around it. Likely equally as expensive, but more appropriate according to you.

“Fine. But you have to be on your best behavior,” you agree, paying no mind to Eren’s thumb twirling your jewelry, “Do you promise me no drag racing or antics of any sort while we’re there?”

Eren shakes his head at the memory, eyeing the first ring that sits against your chest.

He smiles. “I do.”

The afternoon after your last exam, you bid the remainder of your friends goodbye, grab your bags, and hop on a plane with Eren. It arrives in Paris, but you’re rerouted off to Nice before you can so much as blink at the Eiffel tower; you’d be staying there for the two and half weeks leading up to the wedding, in a small villa.

You had to hand it to him, Eren really outdid himself. It’s dark and nearing three in the morning when you arrive, but even in your sleepy stupor you can admire your accommodations. The villa is secluded, the perfect distance from the water, and decorated lavishly almost to your exact liking. You wouldn’t be surprised if Eren sprung it on you that he’d bought the place, and wasn’t merely renting it for this vacation.

Every day after that, Eren proves he was honest in his intentions of this being a getaway gift to you. He’s planned every activity under the sun—from hot air balloon rides, to helicopter tours, to jet-skiing. The days are certainly fun and filled with beautiful memories, but there’s something special about Nice at sunset; something about the sound of gentle waves brushing up against the beach, and the spotlights carved from sun-cast shadows on the buildings.

It’s just after dinner time, bordering on your eighth night here, when you and Eren are walking along the cobblestone streets that border the beach, the length of your sundress flowing every which way with the breeze, and the tail of Eren’s blazer flailing like a cape behind him.

He looks nice tonight, but, truthfully, he always does. He claimed he hadn’t put on the casual green suit because of your outfit, but you swear he was wearing khakis before he saw your dress. The tips of his ears go red when you tease him about it at dinner, but it doesn’t really matter to you; he would have looked good, regardless. Those suits are made for him, after all; tailored to fit perfectly, and designed by his own mother.

The streets tend to settle down after six, locals and tourists retreating indoors or heading to the beach to relax and draw in the evening. Tonight, however, there’s much more commotion than usual on your route.

“Maybe we should take the long way,” you suggest. On the tips of your toes, you realize that there’s some kind of special event happening in the square, filled with lights and music that grows louder with every step you take.

But the crowd and the lights and the smell of food only piques Eren’s interest. “No way—let’s check it out!”

You don’t have the time to refute before his long legs surpass your own stride, headfirst into the sea of people. You can only follow with a smile and a shake of your head. The soft green of his suit jacket serves as your guide as he navigates through the crowd, but the closer you get to the center, the more people there are.

You can feel palms of your hands growing uncomfortably warm as you become hyperaware of just how many people there are. You clutch the end of your dress in your hand, for both practicality and as a sort of comfort mechanism, as you try your best to calm the anxious wave threatening to crash against you.

With a deep breath, you begin to walk again, unaware of Eren’s actions until you physically walk into his hand, long fingers poking at your belly. You hadn’t realized he stopped walking, or that you’d caught up with him, and your eyebrows crinkle when you look down to see Eren’s left hand extended behind him and towards you, palm facing upwards.

He doesn’t say anything, or look back at you at all. Only wraps his larger fingers around yours when he feels the weight of your hand in his, and continues to guide you through the crowd, his pace slower, and hand firm around yours.

The mass of people becomes more spread out when you approach what appears to be the center of the event; and it looks like a party, maybe a wedding of some sort. There’s food and champagne galore, and more than enough happy guests dancing along to upbeat music in the streets.

Eren’s eyes light up as he takes in the scene, “You wanna dance?”

“What—Eren, no!” you refuse, “We cannot crash these people’s party!”

“Why not?” he counters, without a care in the world, “Seems like an open invitation to me! Come on!”

And for the second time that evening, you find yourself being pulled into his schemes; this time in the direction of the open space dubbed dance floor.

You’re both terrible and ostentatious and people start to watch, but it doesn’t matter because you’re smiling too wide and laughing too hard to care. Eren has a way of moving both with and against the music, forcing your body to follow his lead.

He shouts something over the noise, but you don’t have time to register his words before he laces your right hand with his left, and places his right hand on your waist. There’s a blink of confusion for a moment before you’re being swept off your feet and into a dramatic dip. You don’t have time to secure yourself against his shoulders, but Eren does a fine job of supporting you with a single arm against your back.

From what you can tell the song is far from over and the dramatic pose is completely unwarranted, but you and the crowd alike are victim to his charm. You indulge yourself, looking up at him with eyes too fond to memorize every feature of his face in this moment; the way he’s laughing with that big, dumb, wide smile of his that makes his nose crinkle and his eyes light up.

You’re too busy looking at him to hear Eren’s voice calling out to you, or even realize that he’s moved you from your pose to standing back upright. He’s equal parts amused and concerned at the glazed over look in your eyes.

“Hello? Anybody home up there?” he teases, elongating the vowels and squeezing your waist to alert you.

The reminder of his hands on your hips pulls you back to reality, your eyes fluttering down to his arms, then back to his face. It feels stuffy suddenly, too close to function.

“Yea—yeah! Do you wanna get a drink? Yeah, let’s get a drink!” you exclaim, haphazardly pointing and walking towards the food.

You don’t see it, but Eren looks on with glittering eyes, his verbal agreement heard only by himself as you veer towards the buffet. He can still feel your body in his grip, still see the specks of gold in your pupils as he lingers on the back of your silhouette lovingly. And before you can realize, he snaps himself out of it—an out of body experience similar to yours a few moments ago—before catching up with you.

You end up socializing for much longer than intended. Eren makes friends with everyone, to no surprise, and, uncharacteristically, you feel influenced by his actions, and converse with a few people yourself. You let him take the lead, though. Partially because he’s better at it, and partially because you just like listening to him speak French.

“Hey, we should probably get out of here,” he whispers into your ear after waving goodbye to a lovely couple you’d just met, “Before the host of this party realizes we’re miles better than his actual guests.”

You nod with a smile, more than happy to play by his rules for the evening. He offers you his hand again, that same, dopey smile on his face when you take it.

He leads you out of the crowd and back on to the path to your villa, the smell of warm food and sounds of vibrant music growing dull as you venture further from the celebration. It’s much darker than it was when you began your trek back from the restaurant, but beautiful all the same.

Your sandals pad against the wooden dock that leads up the villa, and Eren unlocks the door silently, ushering you inside before entering behind you.

“I know I said I wanted to leave, but I’m not really tired yet,” Eren confesses, pulling his blazer off of his shoulders.

“Me neither,” you say, placing your small wristlet on the table with a shrug, “What do you wanna do though, I’m not—”

“Great!” he cuts you off, smile too big. You narrow your own in suspicion. That tone of voice with that look on his face usually meant something mischievous, at best. “Remember when you said the first time you’d smoke would be with me, and then pranced away and took a bowl from Hange and got high as shit at Moblit’s party?”

“Why does everyone remember Moblit’s party but me!”

“Don’t worry about it,” he chuckles, waving the topic away, “Anyway… Do you wanna smoke now?”

You blink. “I… did you… smuggle weed all the way to France?”

“No, of course not!” he refutes, “…I got it here.”

You scoff, but don’t have the time to question him further before Eren’s tugging on your wrist and pulling you into the bedroom. You take to sitting on your bed while he rummages through his suitcase to retrieve a small, clear jar with several rolled joints inside and a lighter to match.

He shuffles next to you in the bed, mindlessly handing you the lighter while he unscrews the top off the jar. He takes out two of the joints, places one next to the jar on the nightstand, and tucks the other between his teeth. He asks you to hand him the lighter, and you do so wordlessly, distracted by the sight of Eren’s gaze and the blunt poking out his mouth.

“This’ll be fun, yeah?” He reassures you, “Technically, you let Hange take your weed virginity, but I’ll be better.”

“Can you not phrase it like that,” you roll your eyes, “You already took my virginity virginity, don’t be bitter.”

An all too smug grin settles on his features as he recounts the fact. “Besides,” you tack on, “I’ve never done it like this before. So, it’s still a first, kind of.”

Eren cups one hand around the joint, sparking the lighter with the other until it catches fire. He inhales, slow and deliberate, as if he were putting on a show, or a lesson, of sorts, taking the smoke into his lungs and out through his mouth.

You’d gravely miscalculated how attractive Eren would look doing this. Sure, he’s hot, you knew that, but the pronunciation of his jawline when he exhales, and the confidence with which he drags on the blunt is a stark reminder to you. He takes a few more hits, just as slow and sensual as the first, and the room begins to feel warmer.

“Come closer,” be beckons, smoke rolling off of his tongue with every syllable.

You snap yourself out of the haze of your imagination and scoot closer to him. He silently hands you the joint, and it feels heavy between your fingers. At the distance, you take in the smell—pungent and off-putting, but too familiar.

Eventually, you bring it to your lips, careful not to let your tongue press against the tip, and inhale slowly, like you’d seen Eren do before. You do your best to hold the smoke in your lungs for a bit, but seeing as the last time you did this you were amped up on adrenaline and drunk off your ass, the task proves to be much more difficult. It tickles before becoming uncomfortable and you exhale ungracefully, puffs of smoke punctuating your coughs.

Eren watches with a grin, amused at the sight of you fanning the excess smoke away with your nose scrunched in distaste. “You should have warned me you were gonna cough like a bitch.”

“Oh, fuck off,” you whine, trying to hide the hint of a smile creeping onto your face. You hand the blunt back to him, “You’re supposed to teach me, not tease me, asshole.”

Eren pauses his laughter, unsure of what to make of your tone; rushed, a bit embarrassed, but testy. It’s quiet while he stares at you, trying not to let the implication of your words run wild in his mind; but it’s futile when you’re pouting like that, the room is growing foggier, and he’s been semi-hard since you accepted his offer.

“Fine. Watch and learn,” he breathes, words coming out more jagged than he’d intended.

This time, he completely exaggerates every motion; he inhales at a tantalizing pace and flutters his eyes closed while he lets the smoke swish in his mouth, down his throat, and expand into his lungs. He cranes his neck upwards, and purses his lips to let the clouds exit in the streamline that follows the slope of his jaw.

Maybe it’s the drugs getting to you, but your mind is filled with nothing but sheer clouds that aren’t thick enough to block out thoughts of Eren. The weed is unattractive, potent in smell, and all kinds of wrong; yet, everything about him is soft, sultry, and pulls you in.

“Wanna try again, or do you need another lesson?”

You faintly mutter a profanity under your breath. His words end with giggles, a sign the drugs have already begun to take their effect on him, his expression is still smug. You forget Eren knows just how attractive he is. Motherfucker.

“Actually,” he cuts your train of thought, “I have a better idea, come ‘ere.”

Eren beckons you forward again, closing the gap between your legs so that your knees graze each other under the fabric of your clothing while you’re sat next to each other. He leans over, far too close into your personal space, as if to test something; he freezes when his nose is mere inches from your face, a dissatisfied scrunch taking over his features.

He reinstates his hold on your wrist, motioning your body backwards until your back is against the frame of the bed. He hums in approval, positioning himself next to you again, equally as close, but far more comfortable for what he has planned next.

“I’m—I’m gonna try somethin’, okay?” he stutters, the first word mistakenly coming out in broken German, “Just, don’t freak out on me. It’ll be good, promise.”

You nod, unsure of what you’ve just signed off on, but you don’t have time to ask questions. Eren takes another hit, then passes the blunt to his non-dominant hand. He turns to face you, leans forward, and places his free hand on the back of your neck to pull you closer; the expanse of his palm leaving room for his thumb to venture over the bottom half of your cheek.

Eren pulls you in until your lips are millimeters apart, and he can see the pattern of your eyes in beautiful detail. He shifts his hand now so that the majority of it covers your face, the pad of his thumb running across your bottom lip. He applies the perfect amount of pressure to pry your willing mouth open, and then, finally, exhales.

This time, you can taste it. It’s woodsy, and bitter, but the sweet undertones dance on your tongue. This time, there’s more to think about than just the smoke in your lungs; like the burn of Eren’s hand on your neck; the pressure of his thumb against your bottom lip; the proximity of his lips to yours; the look in his eyes.

“Feel good?” he doesn’t bother to pull away before asking, and the words ghost over your lips with the remaining smoke. You nod; he smiles. “Wanna try again?”

You let out a breathy note of affirmation, and then he’s inhaling and exhaling into you, and you welcome him with pried lips and a heavy thumping in your chest. The confidence with which he maneuvers his body and the drugs is nerve-wracking, yet comforting at the same time; he has an expertise and power that intimidates, but compels you to follow.

Together, you finish the first blunt, and Eren lights the second without missing a beat. His hands are more demanding this around; they guide you into submission, and he’s pleased to find that you’re willing to listen.

After the third exhale, you stop focusing on his hands, and more on his lips. After the fourth, you think you might be high—not to the stars as you infamously were during Moblit’s party—but with a comfortable, dull buzz in your head. Everything feels a little fuzzy, out of touch, but you host a burning want for something more, something tangible.

You don’t know it, but Eren feels the same.

After the fifth exhale, Eren pulls away, the blunt a simple stub as he flicks it away onto the night stand, and you miss him being too close. You miss his hands, you miss his warmth, you crave his touch.

“Eren,” you call, unable to think of or see anything but him in the haze. He answers with a strained, “Yeah?” keening towards the sound of your voice, wide eyes flitting all over your face.

It’s too much, too close, too hot. That’s when you cup his jaw, pull him forward, and meld your lips together.

Kissing Eren is painfully familiar, and unnervingly satisfying. It’s certainly not your first kiss with him; and, yet he has a way of making you feel like it is while reminding you of your history. His lips are soft, and they taste like smoke and the chapstick you swear by because he refuses to buy or test out his own.

You pull away too soon, gauging his reaction with blown-out eyes, before dipping forward to have him against you again. Then again, and again, and again, until Eren is tired of your leaving, and his hands are back on your neck.

This kiss is deeper, Eren searching to satisfy the hunger aching inside of him, and you’re happy to comply when his thumb is pressing at your lower lip again. You open your mouth for him and he doesn’t waste a moment, brushing his tongue against yours experimentally, and then flush into your mouth.

He groans when you rake your fingers into his hair, and pulls back with a hissing noise when you scratch at his nape. Large hands move to grip at your waist, and he pulls you into his lap with a concentrated gaze—a brief second for him to admire the sight of you on top of him, before he resumes kissing you. He sucks on your tongue, rolls his past your teeth, and bites on your bottom lip.

You know he relishes in the sounds he elicits from you, and under any normal circumstance, you’re willing to put up a fight with him, but not now. Now, you let him unzip the back of your dress and snake his hands beneath the fabric. The rubbing motions of his hands turn into gripping, gripping into grinding, and eventually, an unfiltered moan slips past your lips when you feel Eren’s erection roll against you.

“Fuck,” he pulls back with a suck of your swollen lip, “You’re so hot.”

Eren quickly switches your positions so that he’s hovering over you. You chuckle lightly underneath him, taking the opportunity to run both your hands through his hair and cradle his head in your hold, “Haven’t done anything yet.”

“I know,” Eren murmurs, dipping his head down to press kisses into your neck, “Still so sexy. So pretty, always.”

Eren bites a hickey into your collar bone, and everywhere he can touch; your neck, your ears, your cheeks, your lips. Your moaning serves as the spark to keep him going, but he’s barely coherent himself the way you keep pulling at his hair and grinding yourself against him. Even through his clothes, you can feel how painfully hard he is.

He barely catches your tongue between his lips when you moan again, sucking harshly before bruising his lips over yours again. His hands are grabby again, finally pulling your dress completely off of your body, leaving it to form a puddle on the ground. They’re back on your as soon as possible, massaging over your tits, and running his index finger over your nipples.

“Eren... Eren, please,” you whimper, chest heaving as you look down at him. He rolls his index finger over your right nipple, with his left hand teasing the other with his thumb. You can’t tell if the look in his eyes is a product of the weed, or just his glassy, borderline predatory stare, but it makes you shiver with pleasure when he wraps his mouth around your nipple and sucks.

“I want you.”

“Want you, too,” Eren hums, pulling back with a thin trail of spit from your breast, before moving to give your left nipple the same treatment, “More than you know.”

You keen to him when he teases his teeth against you, finally having had enough you force him off of you with a tug of his hair. “Then take off your clothes.”

Eren blinks, wide-eyed but glazed all the same. He chuckles lightly, a blush spreading over his cheeks as he nods. He sits back on his knees, pulling his shirt over his head, forgoing undoing the buttons, and pauses briefly with his hands over the zipper of his pants.

“Please tell me you’re not that gone that you forgot how to undo your zipper,” you tease him, chest still heaving from his previous ministrations. Eren smiles, doe-eyed and hazy, and shakes his head.

“No,” he reassures you, finally undoing his zipper and shimmying his pants off his legs, “Was trying to remember what underwear I was wearing. Didn't want it to be embarrassing.”

His honesty makes you laugh, and Eren pauses for a moment to soak it in. Even like this, even with him stumbling over the steps to undress himself, and you almost completely naked in front of him, he can make you smile. There’s something equally sexy and endearing about your giggles; a juxtaposition that makes him want to hug you or kiss you or something in between. And you—you like the look in his eyes even through your giggling; the way he smiles back and blushes and tells you exactly what he’s thinking.

“It’s okay,” you tell him, “Don’t think mine are particularly sexy either.”

Eren hums, shuffling back on to the bed so that he’s between your legs, and leans forward to kiss you again. He still can’t seem to keep his hands off of you, his fingers immediately flying to your underwear and peeling them off your legs, pulling you closer despite the lack of space between your bodies.

“Yeah, doesn’t matter,” Eren echos, tossing the offending item to the side, before cupping your face in his hands, “I’d still wanna fuck you in your granny panties.”

“You wanna fuck me?” you question, eyes sparkling and hopeful.

“Yeah, I do,” Eren can’t help but to smile again, happy and high and drunk on you, too, “Will you let me?”

Your feverish nodding is all it takes for Eren’s mind to go hazy again; clouded with you, you, you. You pull him into a kiss, arching your body into his, and running your hands down the sides of his back. He moans at the feeling, punishing you by nipping at your lower lip and pressing your stomach back to the mattress with his palm.

Your eyes meet his as Eren lines himself up with your cunt, teasing your folds with the head; but it doesn’t take long before he finally pushes in, sheathing himself inside you completely without movement. He waits a minute, whether it’s to make you comfortable, or to gather his own bearings, you’re not sure; but when he’s ready, he flashes you a smile and waits for one in return, before he starts thrusting.

You know Eren’s not gentle; rough whether or not he intends to be by virtue of his size in comparison to you, but you seem to have forgotten just how capable he is of making you lose your senses. He has you gasping, grasping at him at him unintelligibly, feeling full with his cock inside of you.

Eren groans, borderline growls, when he feels you clench around him, when he sees you shaking beneath him. He could do this all; could watch you all day.

“So pretty, the prettiest. Prettiest girl, my favorite girl,” Eren praises, eyes raking up and down your thrashing body, “My favorite fucking girl.”

“You—you, too.”

“Yeah? I’m your favorite, too?” Eren coos, reaching out to guide your arms over your head, the force of his body pinning your hands down; you can hardly gasp before he lacess your fingers together, and gives you a reassuring squeeze.

“Promised you, didn’t I? That I’d be good to you, be on my best behavior,” Eren reminds you, leaning forward.

He eyes your necklace—eyes glued to ring around it—bouncing with your body. He bends his head down to kiss it, bites at the skin near it; a possessive streak overcoming him as the diamonds shine against you. “I said I’d treat you good, always. Meant it.”

He stutters, when you squeeze him back; fingers tightening around his hold, your pussy clenching around his cock. Your whining is insistent, and mixes with Eren’s low moans and guttural noises. Eren doesn’t let up his pace, fucking you fast and deep, and it’s only a matter of time before you feel a knot twisting in your belly.

You attempt to move your arms, searching for a release of the feeling building up inside of you but Eren is strong; stronger than you, and he keeps you in your place. Keeps your arms pinned above you, keeps his palms pressed into yours, keeps his lips hovering above yours, just out of reach.

“Eren,” you call his name through shaky moans.

“Yeah? What, baby?”

“Kiss me.”

And so he does, his lips needy and hungry over yours. Eren fucks you and kisses you through your orgasm, tasting your moans on his tongue in timing with him cumming inside of you. You don’t let up; kissing him lewdly while you both come down from your highs.

“So good,” Eren croons against your lips, down your jaw, into your skin, “So good for me.”

You both moan in chorus when he finally pulls out, Eren’s head laying on your collar, nose nuzzling into your neck. He lets your hands free, and immediately you wrap them around his back, holding him close as you both attempt to catch your breaths.

You don’t know how long you lay there like that, with Eren on top of you, and your thumb rubbing circles into his cheek while he sleeps soundly. Maybe an hour, maybe more, maybe less; but the euphoria of your sex doesn’t quiet seem to fade.

It might last all night, maybe even for the rest of your trip but you don’t mind. You think back to earlier in the evening, when you’d caught his gaze after your dance. The feeling isn’t all that different; warm, and fuzzy, and too much and not enough all at once. It feels good, it feels like Eren.

You hum softly to yourself, careful not to wake up the sleeping boy on your chest, when you realize exactly what these two moments have in common: a rare event in which Eren is still in front of you, steady and stagnant, no running or chasing; and you don’t want to let him go.

Sometimes Eren thinks you act oblivious on purpose just to fuck with him, because there’s absolutely no way you—or any human with a functioning nervous system and social cues—can’t tell that he’s completely, stupidly, and embarrassingly in love with you.

Long gone are his days of trying to deny it or get over it. He realized that sophomore year of high school—almost eight years ago—that no matter where he went, what kind of drug he inhaled, or how hard he tried, you’d be permanently etched into his heart. That doesn’t make it any less exhausting, and, in fact, only makes it more astounding that you haven’t caught on yet. Honestly, Eren’s considered hiring a private psychiatrist just to make nothing’s wrong with you.

Amazingly, the remainder of your vacation continues just like the former half. The only exception being that now you’re in Paris. And that he’s shamelessly coerced you into letting him fuck your brains out on several occasions. But besides that, everything’s chill.

Just two best friends traveling through France together and stopping to fuck in any semi-private location they can find. Just two peas in a pod walking along the Champs Elysées at damn near midnight. Just two best buds with linked arms tasting (see: feeding each other) every macaron flavor they come across while violinists play stupidly romantic, classical music in the background.

He knows he should probably talk to you about it, but for some reason he can’t. Like telling you would make it all too real, and give it a meaning that could so easily be taken away from him; give you a reason to want to leave him. Right now, it’s just a fantasy, and he’s free to keep dreaming, believing that he’s special and worth enough for the affection you’ve shown him.

He doesn’t want to be one in a list of your boyfriends, or fiances, or husbands; he wants to be your only one, and if he can’t be, then he’d rather be stuck to your side as your best friend. At least that way, in someway, he could remain special to you; not a forgotten, ordinary ex of your past.

Though, a best friend who he’s sleeping with regularly and he’s in love with and will always be in love with is starting to sound a lot like a husband to him. At least, the kind of husband he would like to be to you.

You call his name, asking him if he wants to try another sweet. Eren rolls his eyes. What he wants is to fuck you, and marry you, and have you bless his stupid little existence with two runts for kids that look like him but act like you so his life savings don’t run out by the time they’re twelve. But sure, he’ll settle for having you feed him another macaron in the meantime.

“This one tastes just like the coconut one,” he mumbles, chewing his way through the pastry you’d stuffed into his mouth whole.

It’s the seventh bakery you’ve stopped at tonight, and even though Eren’s growing pretty sick of the sugary treats, he’ll walk with you to every damn bakery in Paris tonight if that’s what you want.

He blinks at the thought. He’s so lovesick it’s disgusting. And he wouldn’t do a damn thing to change it.

“That’s probably because it’s almond and coconut flavored,” you say, wiping the stickiness from your fingers onto a napkin.

“I didn’t taste any almonds.”

“I don’t even think you could spell almond, much less tell me what they taste like.”

Eren simply pouts in refute, leaving you giggling at his expression. He doesn’t know if it’s possible, but you seem even prettier in Paris than in Nice. But, that’s probably his rose-colored glasses speaking.

“You think there’ll be macarons at the reception?” you question, biting into yet another pistachio flavored treat, “And if not, would it be rude to bring my own?”

He chuckles. “Yes, babe, I’m sure there will be macarons there.”

He’s always loved Paris, even when his mom moved away here and left him in New York, and he’d always loved it more when you’re with him. He feared that having to attend another, what he considered to be wasteful, wedding in arguably one of his favorite places in the world would leave a bitter taste in his mouth; but, thankfully, he’s only fallen deeper in love since being here.

“You sure you won’t be sick of them by tomorrow?” he asks, watching you debate between taste testing another variation of vanilla bean or rosé.

“How could I get sick of them?” you answer offhandedly, not sparing him a glance away as you choose the pink snack. How could he get sick of you.

“By the time we get back to New York you’ll have forgotten all about them,” he scoffs.

“Don’t worry I’ll quit it soon. I’ll have to eat something solid if I wanna take my meds and go to bed,” you spew with a smile, unaware of what you’ve actually just said, “But they are delicious and I have no regrets.”

Eren pauses. Then so do you, mouth stuffed with sickly sweet.

“I mean—”

“I know, you know,” he cuts you off, “About the meds and stuff.”

You look like you could pass out, or scream, or cry, or everything in between. Eren figures saying more is better than saying less, so he continues.

“I saw a bottle in the bathroom a few months ago,” he admits shyly, but careful about his tone, “Didn’t understand half the words on the label, but it had your name on it so I just, uh… Googled it.”

Of course he knows. Eren’s always kind of known, just never had the words to express it. He imagines that’s what you’re feeling right now.

“Oh,” you finally gape, “Why didn’t you, um… you know, like, say… anything?”

“It seemed like your secret to tell,” Eren shrugs, features softening out, “Besides, I figured you’d tell me when you wanted to.”

Eren’s always been better at showing than saying, anyway. He hopes that his actions, small as they may seem, might have provided you with any sort of comfort in the past few months. Maybe even before that, too.

“Oh,” you repeat, continually blinking at him, “That’s… that’s it? You’re cool with it?”

Now it’s Eren’s turn to blink. “What do you mean am I cool with it? They’re your meds.”

“Yeah, but like… you’re not mad I didn’t tell—”

“Of course I’m not mad,” he cuts you off with a soft smile, “It’s not really my business. I mean, like, you’re my business because I care about you, but you have your own private stuff, too, which is cool. Besides, when I was, uh, researching it, I learned that it can be hard to tell people stuff like that even if—”

Eren shuts up when he feels your weight against him and your arms wrapped around him. Shell shocked, he takes a moment to hug you back, and slowly comes to rest his chin atop your head after leaving a flurry of kisses.

“You didn’t have to look it up or do any kind of research, you know,” you mumble softly into his jacket. Eren borderline chortles, but only hugs you more tightly.

“Of course I did. If not for you, then for myself, because I meant it when I said I’d never seen half the words on the prescription before in my life,” he replies, heart glowing at the sound of your small chuckles.

He’s expecting an equally witty response, but you surprise him when you pull back just enough to face him, a hazy smile on your face. “You’re amazing, Eren.”

Don’t blush, fool. Don’t blush, fool. Don’t blush—fucking idiot.

“Yeah, I’m pretty great,” he boasts, leaning back into the coolest pose he could muster up while ignoring the growing heat creeping up his neck. It’s all in vain as you reach over to playfully tug at one of his ears.

He thinks you’re pretty like this. All the time, but most notably when he has you in his arms. So pretty, that he has to lean forward to kiss you; you don’t seem to mind, if the way you smile into the kiss is any indication of your feelings. Eren finds himself mirroring your grin; moving his arms from around your waist to the sides of your face.

The workers in this poor little café probably hate the two of you, but he doesn’t fucking care. He’s got his favorite girl in his arms right now, and you taste like almonds and coconuts and like the love of his life.

And he should tell you. Eren wants to tell you, and he finds himself wondering if those same intrusive, fearful thoughts were part of the driving force behind your own reason to keep your secrets from him.

You pull away from him, hands lightly draped around his neck, and you smile like you’re shy—like he hasn’t known you your whole life. Still, Eren finds himself smiling back; and thinks that if you were brave enough to tell him how you were feeling, then he should do the same.

“(_____), I… I gotta tell you something,” he starts, voice soft as his fingers curl around your waist a little more tightly, “Though, I’m kind of hoping you already know.”

You blink at him, almost innocently. Eren bites the inside of his jaw; you’re going to have to stop doing that before he jumps you again.

Better now than never, he supposes. He tries to shake his nerves when he takes your hands in his, completely covering them with his palms, and closes his eyes. Despite that, you try to offer him comfort, squeezing his fingers as best you can; and Eren takes that moment to thank his lucky stars for whoever decided to put you in his life. Because he knows that no matter what, even if he royally fucks this up, you’ll find some way to be there for him.

He slowly blinks his eyes open again, gaze resting on the ring around your neck. A faded chuckle escapes his lips when looks at it. The only one who got the wrong idea about his gift was you. But, he supposes that’s his fault; he never did explain it, after all.

“It’s nothing… It’s just that, I’m in—”

But Eren’s startled by a voice that makes him freeze. He almost wants to believe he misheard it, but he can hear the telltale clacking of vintage heels on the floor of the bakery and he knows that he didn’t mishear a thing.

Eren turns his head, and sure enough, there is his mother, in all her five foot glory, adorned in designer clothing from her beret to her shoes. With a fucking street urchin on her arm.

“Well, well, well, what a lovely surprise,” Carla beams, red lipstick perfectly in place even after a long day of wear.

Eren’s eyebrows draw together, as he takes in his mother and her fiancé standing in front of him. He can just barely register you calling out towards her, carefully maneuvering yourself off of his lap, and into the neighboring chair; but still keeping your right hand wrapped around his left. He can feel you squeeze it—whether to give him comfort, or warning, he’s not sure yet; probably both.

“It’s so good to see you!” you beam, excitedly offering her and Mitchell a seat across from the two of you at the table. Eren opens his mouth to refute, but you squeeze his hand again; a warning.

Carla leans forward to encase you in a hug, exchanging cheek kisses, and leaving Eren to stare at the street rat across from him. Mitchell seems to know better than to make eye contact with him, irises scattering from Carla’s back to the décor of the bakery while the two girls catch up.

“We missed you at the rehearsal dinner on Sunday,” Carla recounts, eyes fluttering to Eren’s briefly. One look into her son’s eyes, and she understands why; one look into his mother’s eyes, and Eren knows she has him all figured out. “I was worried you might not show at all.”

Eren strategically averts your gaze when you turn your head towards him, choosing to look at his mother instead.

“I didn’t even know there was a rehearsal dinner,” you tell her, tone polite, but Eren can hear the clear jab directed towards him, “I’m sorry, I—we would have gone, otherwise.”

“No need to apologize, darling,” Carla smiles, “I’m sure you two were very busy.”

“We were,” Eren cuts in, words definite. He sees a hint of surprise flash in his mother’s eyes briefly, expertly covered up with her sweet demeanor. She only nods in understanding, sitting back a bit to wrap her arm around Mitchell’s.

“What are you even doing here, Ma?” Eren questions, even as you do the same with his hands under the table, “Isn’t it bad luck to see the groom before the wedding.”

“After the third or fourth wedding, you grow tired of pleasantries and superstitions, my love,” she replies, “This place makes Mitchell’s favorite macarons, we thought we’d share a few before the big day. Maybe get some tea as a pre-celebration.”

The topic of sweets has you speaking up once again, engaging both his mother and Mitchell in a discussion about them, and your other findings from bakery hopping earlier. If Eren didn’t love you to pieces, he would have left the table a long time ago.

It carries on much longer than he can bear to endure; almost an hour of you, and his mother, and Mitchell making pleasant conversation while he tries his best not to brood beside you, but it’s futile. He feels like a little kid again. Stuck at the dinner table with his mother and a man he was being forced to get to know, only for him to become a stranger to him in a matter of months.

Eren grinds his teeth into each other when you laugh at something Mitchell says. He’s not going to sit through his any longer; or ever again.

“Well, this has been fun,” Eren says, voice blatantly monotonous as his cuts through the conversation, “But we should all probably head back go to bed. Big day tomorrow.”

“Eren, we should—” but, he stands up quickly, hand wrapping around yours to force you upwards too.

He doesn’t care to look at you, knowing the dissatisfied expression he’ll be met with. He fishes for his wallet and pulls out too many Euros, neatly tucking them under an unused knife to pay for the meal.

Eren’s steps out from between his chair and the table. “We’ll see you guys tomorr—” But is stopped before he can take three steps away.

His mother’s hand wrapped around his wrist. She stands, significantly shorter than Eren’s full height. “Actually, Eren, could I borrow you for a bit?”

And he doesn’t want to, because he knows exactly the conversation waiting for him. But he looks down at her, lets his eyes flicker to you, and back to her, and he knows he doesn’t have the heart to walk away. Not even if he tried.

He sighs with a shallow nod. He can feel your hand on his shoulder, the proud smile on your lips when you tell him that you’ll meet him back at your hotel. Mitchell ensures him and Carla that he’ll make sure you get back safely, and Eren still can’t stand the guy, but he’s grateful that he can at least be of use for something.

Eren kisses you on the forehead briefly, a promise to you and himself that he’ll finish his confession later. After all, he probably should come to terms with the woman who taught him what love is before he vowed to love you for the rest of his life.

The walk to his mother’s hotel is silent, Eren choosing to keep to himself, hands stuffed in his pockets to prevent his mom from holding them. He’s probably acting like a child, but isn’t that what he is to her; isn’t that she treats him as.

“Look, Ma, you don’t need my approval to marry him,” Eren grumbles, when they finally exit the elevator into the hotel room, “It doesn’t matter to me.”

“Of course I don’t,” Carla offers him a small grin, even if he won’t look at her directly, “But it matters to me.”

“Why does it matter now? It didn’t matter with Keith, or Henry, or Henri with an I, or any of the others,” Eren mumbles, reluctantly taking a seat on the stool opposite the vanity.

His mother tracks his movements with soft eyes and an amused grin as Eren absentmindedly bends a knee and begins to fiddle with the hem of his pants. Just like he used to when he was upset as a child.

“It mattered then, too, Eren,” she tells him, sitting on the stool and facing him.

He’s surprised by her words, his wide eyes giving him away even if he attempts to act unfazed. “It didn’t seem like it.”

Carla opens her mouth to speak, but closes it, words stuck in her throat. She watches Eren’s hunched figure, her tall son not even bothering to look her in the eyes. She exhales slowly; if he were five feet smaller, he’d have tucked himself under her arm, still refusing to look at her, but he’d have snuggled his head into her side while he pouted anyway.

“I suppose it didn’t,” she admits, “In the end, the love wasn’t enough to make it last, then.”

Eren is quiet for a bit at that, pulling at his pants leg. “And… and you love him enough, now?”

“It’s more than love, Eren. It’s... happiness—for yourself and another person—it’s being okay with somebody knowing you now, and forever. Whichever version of you that is.”

“Then why did you marry them before?” Eren asks, “If you knew it wasn’t enough, if you knew it was just going to end up as another big mistake.”

“Maybe the marriages were a mistake, and some of what came with them, but I don’t think the feelings were,” Carla muses, “Love is never wasted.”

“How can you say that?” Eren questions, disbelief and exasperation painted on his face, “Of course it is—you wasted your time, and your money, and your—your everything on those people who couldn’t care less about you now!”

“Eren—”

“You let them into our house,” Eren speaks over her, “You let them into your life, and they left. They always left—”

“Eren—”

“—And you even let some of them come back! Everyone, you let everyone have another chance, another anniversary, another wedding,” He’s ranting, crying, hot, irrational tears streaming down his face; hiccups interrupting his speech, “So—so, so if it’s not wasted and everyone gets another chance and another chance and another chance—why didn’t he come back, huh? For his?”

Eren’s standing now, arms flailing every which way during his breakdown, but his mother doesn’t try to stop him. She lets him continue, hears him out.

“If it’s love—if it’s not wasted, and it’s real—then why didn’t he come back? Why didn’t he want to? Why—why didn’t he want me? Why did I end up the bastard?”

Eren looks his mother in the eyes for the first time in the duration of their conversation with that final question; with his vision blurry, and chest heaving, and cheeks wet. Carla has no words to say; can only carefully open her arms, and wait for her son to come crashing into them. And he does; and it rains and pours, and Eren holds onto his mother for dear life, and onto the pieces of her breaking heart.

“Am I not good enough to have that kind of love?” Eren asks through tears, “Am I not special enough to want to know?”

“Eren,” she finally speaks, moving to cradle his head in her hands, “You don’t have to be special or good, to be known or loved. It’s enough that you were born. That’s enough to make you deserving of love.”

She doesn’t mind the tears against her palms or the hiccups of Eren’s breathing, “And you already have it.”

And Eren looks at her with eyes wide and wild like a child, staring at the first person to have ever loved someone as messed up, and plain, and ordinary as him; and he can feel more tears bubbling at his eyes.

“Ma, I’m—I’m so sorry,” he chokes out, wrapping his arms around her even tighter, chin resting on her shoulder while his shake through his tears, “I’m so fucking sorry.”

Carla hugs her son as close as she can, like he’s five years old and the apple of her eye and she can take all his pain away. “You don’t have to be. You’re my son, and I’ll love you always.”

It feels like they have all the time in the world like that, to hug and cry and apologize; but Carla hopes Eren knows that he was always forgiven; that he never had anything to apologize for in the first place.

“She loves you, too, baby,” she coos, holding Eren as tight as possible, “But you have to let her know that. That you accept it.”

“Do you think she knows?” Eren asks, words muffled into the fabric of her clothing, “That I love her, too?”

“I do,” Carla confirms, pulling away to look at Eren in the eyes; his beautiful, shining, green eyes, “But I don’t think that either of you really realized it. I mean, you did give her an engagement ring, darling.”

Eren huffs at the memory, “She thought it was a gift.”

“Because you gave it to her as a gift.”

“I thought it was pretty obvious.”

“Love has a way of making people blind,” Carla muses, “Especially two lovesick semi-adults with too much money on their hands.”

Eren’s cheeks grow pink at the accusation, “It’s your money!”

“Yes, and I’m very happy to have it,” Carla chuckles, motioning for Eren to stand up. He does, and she looks up at him with glimmering, proud eyes. “Now, go, shoo. You have a girl to propose to, don’t you? There might be two Jaeger weddings this weekend.”

Eren nods, certain of himself for the first time in a while. He turns on his heel with a vigor igniting his footsteps, but pauses when he reaches the elevator. He makes a sharp turn, running back to his mom one last time, and squeezing her suddenly, and tightly against him.

“I love you, mom,” he says; the words too foreign on his tongue, and he vows to not let them be a stranger to his vocabulary from here on out.

“I love, you, too, Eren,” Carla calmly wraps her arms around her son one last time, “And I always will.”

You half-expected your walk back to your hotel with Mitchell to be painfully awkward, but he proves to be a pleasant conversationalist, even in Carla’s absence.

You know that Eren isn’t fond of him, but you wish that he would at least give him a chance. There’s no way to know if a marriage—if any relationship—will last forever, but, sometimes, you think it’s not about knowing about forever; but, rather about wanting it to make it there; about willing to go the distance with that person.

You can see that want, that willingness that works alongside love in Mitchell and Carla’s relationship, that stands out from her past marriages. You get the feeling they’re going to last; and that, most importantly, they both want it to, too.

It’s quiet out as you both walk the streets of Paris, Mitchell taking the time to point out small notes in architecture that interest you. You readjust your jacket as a gust of wind washes over you, careful to make sure your necklace doesn’t snag against your clothing.

“That’s a beautiful ring,” he calls to you gently.

“Thank you,” Surprised, you quickly let out an embarrassed cough, looking down to your left hand resting atop the uppermost button on your coat. “It was a gift.”

“I meant that one,” Mitchell corrects, carefully gesturing to his own neck to indicate that he was talking about the ring on your necklace, and not the one on your finger.

“Oh, thank you,” you repeat, “That one was actually a gift, too.”

The older man hums, continuing your walk to your hotel. “Must have been one hell of a gift. I don’t know many people who give out engagement rings as presents.”

“Oh, no, no, no, it wasn’t—it’s not an engagement ring,” you tell him, feeling a warmth creep up your cheeks even in the chilly atmosphere of the night, “Eren gave it to me, actually, a few years ago—it was a Christmas gift.”

“Eren, huh?” Mitchell smiles fondly, “That makes sense. Carla tells me how much he cares about you.”

“You—she does?” you stutter. Mitchell nods. “I—I mean, I care about him, too.”

“Enough to accept an engagement ring from him, it seems,” Mitchell taunts, “I’m no specialist, but I know a Harry Winston piece when I see it. They’re not cheap.”

“Trust me, I know,” you scoff, “I almost killed him when I saw how much he spent on it.”

“And you took it, anyway?”

“Well, he—he was supposed to return it,” you defend yourself, “Because I didn’t want anyone to get the wrong idea! But he just, well, he gave me the other one instead, so I wear that one on my hand.”

Mitchell pauses, just as you both stand to the entrance of your hotel. “And what was the wrong idea you didn’t want people getting.”

“That... that...,” you pause, thinking back to that Christmas day.

Even though Eren is known for spending ludacris amounts of money, the ring came as a genuine surprise to you. A couple thousand on shoes, sure—you’re victim to that yourself; a couple hundred thousand on a lavish vacation wasn’t out of the ordinary, either; but a million, maybe even more, on a ring that you could have only ever asked of him in your dreams was another thing completely.

And, sure, even a few million didn’t mean much to you or Eren at the end of the day, but it wasn’t just the price; it was the object of the money, too. To accept a house, or a car, or a jet for that amount is something you could rationalize; but a ring seemed foreign, and far out of your league.

Then there was the display and value it held beyond money. It’s beautiful, gorgeous, but more than that, it’s tailored to your exact liking. The synthesis of your aesthetic and everything you could ask for, garnished with the memory of Eren in the very design; the diamonds you love, the flowers that remind him of you, and the way they stems wrap around each other and the petals meet in the middle.

A small gasp leaves your lips and instinctively, you reach to clutch the ring in your hold. There was no way this was an engagement ring... Eren hadn’t proposed to you when he gave it to you—in fact, he was so casual about it, that it had you stunned that he hadn’t thought to consider that other people might think it meant something more than what he intended it to be.

But, looking back, it seems like you’re the only one who didn’t understand what was going on. Because Eren told you, even then, that he’d wanted you forever; you didn’t know how to hear him. It was all right there—not just in the ring, but in all his gifts, in the entirety of your friendship.

Eren loves you, more than you could ever know.

“It’s an engagement ring,” you say aloud, but more to yourself than to Mitchell, “Oh my god, it’s an engagement ring.”

Mitchell can’t do anything but smile at your revelation. You’re practically bouncing off the walls, connecting the puzzle pieces of your relationship in the middle of the street at damn near midnight, but you don’t care; because it finally feels right, and it finally, finally all makes sense.

“He, but he never pro—oh my fucking god, I’m going to kill him.”

You feel elated and confused and happy and murderous all at once. Eren wanted to marry you; Eren loved you. He wants you for the rest of his life, and you’ve been too blind to see it this entire time.

Still, you think that maybe a verbal proposal might have helped to open your eyes a bit.

“Mitchell, I have to—”

You’re cut off by the echo of your name coming from the opposite end of the street, and you can just barely make out of Eren’s figure in the faded lights of the street lamps. His name falls from your lips like a whisper, and you hardly register Mitchell’s amused, soft laughter from beside you.

“I think that’s my cue,” he says, patting you on the shoulder, “I better get back to Carla. Something tells me you two have a bit to talk about.”

You can barely nod at him, eye still wide and stunned, but a smile on your face even in your fearful anticipation. You don’t have time to thank him before he turns away, bidding you goodnight; and then you have something else to focus on, as Eren’s footsteps grow louder, and his silhouette grows sharper the closer he gets to you.

He practically crashes into you, chest heaving, hair wind-swept and wild from his running. He puts his hands on your shoulders, to steady himself physically and mentally, labored breaths ghosting over the top of your head.

“Hi,” he finally squeaks; and that stupid, big, dopey grin is on his face.

It’s ridiculous, so utterly ridiculous that you can’t help but greet him back. The two of you stand there, smiling like fools for god knows how long, before the realization strikes you for a second time.

Eren opens his mouth to finally speak, but a pained squeal leaves his lips instead as he feels the back of your hand slap his chest. “Ouch—hey, what was that for!”

“What the hell do you think you were doing proposing to me without telling me?” you screech, packing another punch to his chest for good measure, but it’s a poor barrier and does nothing to stop your tears from falling, “You’re an idiot, I should kill you for this, you know that, Eren Jaeger?”

Eren laughs softly, only to be heard by you in close proximity. He takes your offending hand in his, and reaches for your other, pulling both of them between your bodies. He can feel tears welling in his own eyes, as he looks down at the necklace, glimmering perfectly under the moonlight.  

“In my defense, the first thing you told me to do when I gave it to you was to return it.”

“I might not have said that if you told me what it meant,” you can hardly choke out a laugh through your tears; and Eren can’t stop his from falling either, “It’s insane, you know. This whole thing—to ask me to marry you at 19. For me to not realize until we’re 21.”

“I know,” Eren agrees, inching closer even though there’s barely any room between you, “I know. But I know I love you, every version of you. I always have, I always will.”

You close your eyes as Eren’s hands move to your face, gingerly sweeping your tears away from your cheeks. He feels too close, it feels like too much; but you don’t want him to move.

“You know... if you had asked me, then,” you start, blinking your eyes open with a sniffle; you’re met with Eren’s emerald greens one with far too much hope and love glimmering in them, “I—I don’t even know what I would have said.”

“And if I asked you now?”

You pull your bottom lip between your teeth, slowly raising your hands to wrap around Eren’s wrist, and lower them to your neck, before looking at him again, “Ask me.”

Eren blinks, carefully trailing his hands up and around your neck, nimble fingers undoing the clasp of your necklace. He hardly lets the chain pool into his hand before it’s tossed aside, and the ring is still between his thumbs and index fingers as he lowers himself on to one knee.

“You are the love of my life, and there’s not a single version of life—a single version of you, or me—where I don’t want to be with you forever,” Eren says, “And you know how shit I am with my words, but I fucking mean it. I swear to you, that I’ll do my best every day to show you how much you mean to me; marry me, and I’ll prove it to you, I swear, I will.”  

Your lips are wobbling at Eren’s confession below you, and you can just barely beckon him upwards in your state. He’s hardly back on two feet before you’re pulling him against you, ghosting the word “yes” on his lips before you kiss him.

You both melt into the kiss, Eren’s hands skillfully cupping your cheeks, while he keeps the ring in his hold and bruises your lips together.

“You don’t have to prove it to me, Eren,” you assure him, hand shaking when you pull apart and let him slip the ring onto your finger—where it belongs, “You already have.”

For his first birthday as a married man, Eren requested something intimate. He wanted just a small celebration with all of your mutual friends, some good food, alcohol, and lots of fun.

Supposedly simple and intimate for him entailed renting out the top floor of the Whitney, which was currently encasing an exhibit portraying some kind of abstract modern art that allowed for a very drunk Eren and Armin have to entertain themselves by trying their best to recreate the paintings using very flawed couples aerial yoga.

The art, paired with the dimmed lighting, Jean’s choice selection of overtly sexual music, and Eren’s pick of overpriced champagne also meant that Marco, Bertholdt, Connie, and Sasha found everything ten times funnier than they were—which meant they were a million times louder than usual.

Jean stands next to you by the bar, watching as Eren attempts to hold Armin above his head by holding on to just his waist. They’re unsuccessful, of course, resulting in both boys toppling onto the ground as the majority of their older friends laugh along.

“Lucky me, I get to take him home at the end of the night,” you drawl, turning to the bartender to order another drink.

She smiles, easily preparing your martini and sliding it you with an inquiry. “That’s your boyfriend? The tall one with the brown hair?”

“No,” you sigh, eyes closed for a moment before taking the glass between your fingers. “That’s my husband, unfortunately.”

× even more notes: this fic. is my baby. it’s been a draft of mine for over two years at this point. it’s gone through various fandoms but i’ve never quite been able to complete and post it, so i’m very happy that it’s finally here! i hope you all enjoyed, and i just wanted to say that i’m glad to finally have been able to share this with you all!

[absolutebl]

This Week In BL

May 2021 Part 1

Being a highly subjective assessment of one tiny corner of the interwebs.

Ongoing Series - Thai

Second Chance Ep 6 fin - Chris & Jeno were TOO CUTE we got ALL the tropes: parental passing on the torch of care (a rare one), hair drying, hair touching, the prom with everyone was in adorable suits (Tang Yi approves), GOOD kisses, confessions galore, boop (+ bonus pool boop), tumblr now thinks they’re lesbians (new trope I’ve just decided on), claiming, rooftop assignation. Conclusion? This is one of the best BL pulps I’ve seen in a really long time. We are PLEASED! 

Y-Destiny Ep 7 - a pretty classic take on the “reformed player/rake” romance trope plus a ton of BL visuals like back hug, messy eater, rooftop assignation, and pillow clutch (a Cheewin signature). Cheewin sure knows his tropes (he should, he started a lot of them and his YYY Special is nothing but a trope parody pastiche, it’s Absolute BL before Absolute BL and A LOT weirder). 

Lovely Writer Ep 11 - The casting closet has come to play. I really like that LW is taking the industry and fans to task. It’s hard to watch sometimes, but it SHOULD be a little squirmy and uncomfortable. This was an excellent Episode 11 and we all suffered for it. I hope they can resolve it well in the finale. They’ve done great work so far, I trust them. 

Close Friend Ep 3: (Willing or Not) - sports kinda romance, it was cute because MaxNat are cute together, but it reminded me a lot of their arc in Why R U, which is to say, short and somewhat forgettable. 

Fish Upon The Sky Ep 5 - am I over this? I think I might be over it. Not into the punching down humor in terms of femme or Sikhs, I don’t like Pi, and found myself fast-forwarding through most of this ep. Mostly I only watch when Mork is on screen. I wanna know why Mork likes Pi so much, but that’s all I’m interested in. Tons of tropes but I’m not even motivated to screen cap, which is saying something. Look, the characters pretty much lack motivation and so I’m losing sympathy. 

Nitiman Ep 1 - oh I like it. This is the standard Thai BL delicious trash I know and love. 2 Moons university setting pastiche, check! Engineering students = gay, check! Instant hate vrs instant love, check! Seme vrs tsundere uke, check! Plus the side dishes are tasty. I’m disposed to be pleased, especially as Fish is disappointing. Sadly they insisted on singing, but you can’t have everything. 

Love Area Ep 1 - I’m not holding this post just for one BL that I’m not sure if I’ll be able to find tomorrow, so I’ll let you know how it is next week. 

Ongoing Series - Not Thai

Nobleman Ryu’s Wedding (Korea) Ep 7-8 fin - so flipping cute, their little smiles, just GAH. Bit of a dead fish kiss but I don’t care because I loved this tiny show full of soft bois and no one saying anything directly (except our man with the poetry, I hope he finds his true love). Adorable. 

Papa & Daddy (Taiwan) Ep 3 - HOW IS THIS SHOW SO WHOLESOME? This is possibly the cutest thing on air right now (and I don’t actually like children). Just GAH! The actual Taipei pride footage. I didn’t even mind all the product placement (I happen to like that bubbly myself). It’s just so cute. Everyone should be watching this. It will make you feel so good and happy. Not gonna lie, this ep is ALL about queer found family and I might have ugly cried over the teddy bear at the end - in a good way.  *** Quick note because I think it’s super important: in 2020 Taiwan Pride was called March for the World. Why? Because Taiwan managed to control C19 better than any other country, they were the only country able to hold pride safely, so they did it for all of us. I don’t feel like they got enough recognition for this. 

Word of Honor (China) Ep 34-36 fin - In the end, WoH turned out to be a morality tale about the superiority of agrarian society over semi-nomadic tribes combined with a message about enduring love profoundly undermined by Chinese censorship. It’s like this amazing meal. I ate my fill, and enjoyed every bite, but had a bit too much, and now I have heart burn. Am I upset about the ending? Sure am. Good for them for manipulating my emotions! Was this a great drama? Yes. Did I expect this from China? Sure did. Do i feel betrayed anyway? Sure do. I guess these things are going to have to coexist in my psyche. Along with heart burn. Here have the actual-not-really-epilogue-ending. It's wafer thin.  I’m putting this one to bed. I feel like I’ve said my piece and I want to move on from 36 courses of pretty men in pretty robes full of pretty innuendoes and deadly peanuts. I’ll miss the big fuck off white fan, tho. 

My Lascivious Boss (Vietnam) Ep 5 - still very much enjoying it, the secret identity lies are beginning to unravel, tension is increasing. I don’t see how they can resolve this in just one episode tho, so this series might go longer than 6 episodes (rare for Vietnam). 

HIStory 4: Close To You (Taiwan) Ep 8 - I demand Boxiang & Zhigang (repping for the healthy LTR and marriage equality) show up in every HIStory installment henceforth. This was a cute ep, lots of good communication & tropes. Still not sure how I feel about the stepbrothers, but can’t complain about their chemistry (waves at TharnType). Speaking of, how awesome that Yongjie caught the man he always wanted, that man is a SUPER bossy bottom, and Yongjie is like ...

Gossip

Crazy rumor that Singto has a new BL in the works (totally unsubstantiated). It’s Still Just Us (frankly, the biggest strike against this being true is how grammatically correct the title is). 

Vietnam is messing with our heads and hearts by putting the leads from Nation’s Brother and Most Peaceful Place together into a delightful little love triangle of... something or other. Honestly, I’ve no idea what this is. The actors playing around? A new series? An advertisement? What? 

Breaking News

Mandee (of Why R U fame) dropped a “mini intro” for something that they’re calling Bed Friend series. HI BEER! But I thought these two (James & Net) were the side dishes for Middle Love AKA Middleman's Love. I am so confused. (Get your titles together Thailand, no one wants you going down the Taiwanese rabbit hole, mm’kay?) 

Taiwan would call it: Middleman’s Middle Love: Bed Friend. 

Top Secret Together got a full trailer with subs. I’m kinda over ensemble pulp pieces (like Close Friend, Bothers, Y-Destiny) but the presence of Newyear makes this one I’m still going to watch. It starts this Friday on Line TV. 

Cutie Pie the series got a teaser (fundraising trailer). Arranged marriage, home/office set, Thai BL staring Zee? Sign me tf up! I am so excited, I hope they can make this happen. Deets here. (Thanks @heretherebedork for the tip.) 

Next Week Looks Like This:

Some shows may be listed later than actual air date for International accessibility reasons.

Upcoming 2021 BL master post here.

Links to watch are provided when possible, ask in a comment if I missed something.

[jisungsplatforms]

Humph!!

Pairing: Seo Changbin x fem! reader

Genre: NSFW! Smut, minimal amount of angst (if you squint), fluff (happy happy ending!); non idol au, enemies to lovers, college au

Warning: Mature content! (DNI if you are uncomfortable or UNDERAGED); language, name calling, reader is kind of a jerk, erotic asphyxiation, use of pets names, hint of degrading, praise kink (implied), fingering (f), oral (f&m), PIV, unprotected sex (be careful with this!), unintended voyeurism (Chan and Jisung accidentally hears reader and Changbin getting it on)

Seo Changbin.

Or as you like to call him, the bane of your existence. You wouldn’t exactly call yourself the ‘petty type’ but how could you ever forget about the boy who pulled on your hair and cut in front of you during lunch time, only to get the last middle piece of pizza- a slice that was supposed to be yours, in middle school? And yes, while it is something so small, so trivial, that you should’ve easily forgotten all about it, you just couldn’t for he just seemed to pop up around you every. single. day. Oh, the list of ways he picked on you could go on and on. It was like whenever he saw you, he just had to push your buttons as if it’s his little demented mission to irk you for the rest of your life.

No one has ever made your blood boil more than he has. It makes your blood boil even more when you, yourself, couldn’t even deny the fact that the once scrawny, immature boy turned to the hottest, most muscular (and fuckable) man you’ve ever seen. Now here you are, as college juniors, and you two are still going at each other’s throats. And of course, no matter how older you get, the two of you will always find time to bicker with each other for the littlest things

“WHAT KIND OF AN IDIOT ARE YOU?” you yell, looking at Changbin in disgust. “WHAT NORMAL HUMAN BEING DOES THAT?!”

He rolls his eyes at you, clicking his tongue, “Well, excuse me for having COLD FEET. SO WHAT YOU THINK ITS WEIRD? I GET COLD EASILY AT NIGHT SO LET ME WEAR MY SOCKS TO SLEEP IN PEACE, WOMAN!” Changbin yells back, glaring at you.

Ahh, yes. Today’s fight is now on whether or not wearing socks to bed is considered ‘abnormal’. Cause what else could you argue about?

“BUT…It’s so WEIRD! Can’t you, like, invest in some thicker blankets instead? There are better options than wearing SOCKS IN BED.”

“WHAT? IS IT A CRIME TO WEAR SOCKS TO-”

Jisung interrupts Changbin by slamming one of his hands down onto the table. “God… SHUT UP! CAN YOU TWO JUST FUCK ALREADY?!” he moans in irritation. Chan lightly shoves Jisung in retaliation, scolding him for being too loud. Jisung looks at him and pouts, mumbling a quick ‘sorry’. Chan sighs, finally looking at your startled faces .

“He’s kinda right though,” he says, calmly, “not exactly about the, uhm, having sex part, though the sexual tension between you two is nauseating. But I mean about getting along with each other and finally putting an end to this ‘rivalry’.”

You and Changbin glance at each other for a brief second before scoffing. “Please. Hell would freeze over before we do,” you sneer, side eyeing him.

“I’d rather kiss an electric eel than make up with that snake of a woman,” Changbin mumbles, looking away from you.

“How about I arrange that for you?” you smile, using the fakest sweet voice you could muster. Changbin turns to you with a scoff.

“You are such a-”

“Enough!” Chan says with a stern tone he almost never uses. The look Chan was giving you both was enough to shut you up and intimidate you; hell even Jisung was scared! “Either make up on your own by the end of the month, or else. Understand?”

Both you and Changbin sigh in irritation before agreeing. “Yes…”

“I mean it! Y/n, Changbin! This is getting ridiculous now. Honestly, you guys are full grown adults but you act like children, and not the good ones! Think of the other people you’re affecting with your behaviors.”

Silence fell upon your whole table. You could only nod your head shamefully at Chan’s words, while Changbin clicks his tongue but not say anything else. Jisung looks around the table, the uncomfortable silence making the poor boy feel antsy.

“Good,” Chan leans back, his cheerful demeanor coming back, “One month, that’s it. And play nice!”

“This is stupid,” Changbin groans, leaning back on his chair. You roll your eyes at him.

“Shut it. Remember, this is for the sake of our friends.”

Ever since that day- the day Chan scared the shit out of you both- you and Changbin made an agreement to try and be civil around one another. It wasn’t very nice, but you both knew Chan was right. You didn’t want to lose your friends because of some stupid rivalry that started 9 years ago. To fix your problem, the two of you, begrudgingly, decided to hangout with each other for the next month. Today marks your one week anniversary of your treaty.

Needless to say…you both hate it.

“If we have to hangout, can we not spend our time in a library?” the short man complains, looking at you with his sharp eyes.

“Well, sorry, but I have a chemistry test in a few days and I’m sure as hell not failing that. You know Science isn’t my best subject.”

Changbin groans, sliding down his chair. “Whatever.” he mutters distastefully. You shook your head.

“Don’t you need to study for anything too?” you asked, not even sparing him a glance.

“No. I’m done with all the tests I have to do and none of my other teachers prepped us for another one. So I’m basically free, doll.”

You cringe at Changbin calling you ‘doll’, hating how that simple pet name sent a delighted shiver down your back. You scoff.

“Disgusting,” you grimace, “Never call me that again.”

Changbin smirks, now sitting up on his chair to lean closer to you. “Whatever you say, doll.”

You look up at him with a nasty glare, resisting the urge to yell at him. “You are so lucky we’re in a library.” He laughs sardonically at you. You huff, standing up to look for a chemistry book. Changbin looks at you questioningly.

“Where’re you going?”

“Looking for more books.”

He sighs, starting to stand up as well. “No,” you stop him, “By myself.” He put his hands up, slowing sitting back down. You turn around and walk to the aisle containing the textbooks. After almost 10 minutes of searching, you still couldn’t find the book you were looking for.

“Damn, I was beginning to think you left me here by myself.”

You jolt at the sound of Changbin’s rough voice. You turn to see him leaning against the bookshelf.

“I’m not that much of a jerk,” you answer scornfully, going back to your search. You could hear Changbin’s heavy footsteps grow closer. You turn to see him standing right beside your crouching figure, looking down at you. The angle you’re seeing him in shouldn’t be making you think of such indecent thoughts. You snap your head back to the shelf as Changbin crouches with you, softly groaning as he goes down. You were trying your best not to make contact with him.

Changbin helps you look for a chemistry book, trying to be nice. You could feel yourself getting hotter at his courteousness. You really didn’t want to admit that Changbin was actually a decent person, so you couldn’t help but put up a front.

“I don’t need your help, you know?”

He sniggers, “I’m not trying to be nice. I just wanna get out of here faster.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, not getting his joke. “Geez, then get away from me,” you raised your voice, still keeping the fact that you’re still in a library in mind. “I can do it myself.”

Changbin looks at you, a little shocked. He huffs, sticking his tongue against his cheek. “Honestly, you don’t have to be such an ass around me all time, you know?” he says, quietly. You stop your actions, feeling a little bad for snapping at him. “You said yourself, you want us to try getting along, why can’t you act like it?”

You bit your bottom lip, still not looking at him. “Simple. It’s cause I hate you,” you lied. He looked at you for a few seconds before standing up. You didn’t see the look of defeat on his face.

“You know,” Changbin says slowly, “I thought we could be friends. Deep down, I really thought we actually could.” You stayed quiet, looking down. “But now I know, you’re really just a stone-cold bitch.”

That. Now that lit a fire in you. You stand up abruptly with cold eyes. “Never call me that ever again.”

“What? A bitch?” He challenges, eyes equally as cold as yours. “See, here’s the thing; It’s true. I’m trying to be nice here and you’re just shutting down every single nice act I try to do for you. And what have you done for me? Drag me around like I’m some dog? You couldn’t even have the decency to even ask where I wanted to go.”

You could feel yourself get smaller and smaller with every step he took closer to you. For someone who was only 5’6”, damn did he look big. You bit the inside of your cheek when you felt your back hit the wall.

“What’s your problem with me, Y/n? I’ve seen the way you are with Jisung and Chan. I’ve seen the way you are with your other friends. I don’t know if you’ve noticed but ever since we started college, I’ve been trying to be nicer to you. But I guess it makes sense that someone as self-centered as you wouldn’t notice.”

You let out a sarcastic “ha”. You shake your head and stare into his eyes. “I told you. I. don’t. like. you. Do I need any more of a reason?”

“Yes. Yes, you do actually.”

“Hm. Find then. You’re annoying, you’re loud, you’re simple-minded, childish, irresponsible, you don’t take things seriously, you’re whiny, messy, irritatingly cocky and seeing your face is just so infuriated that it makes me nauseous,” you list. “Want more?”

The deadly look on his face simultaneously frightens and arouses you. The sarcastic smirk he gave you, though, was hotter. “Continue.”

“You’re nothing but a show off.” With those words, Changbin’s arrogant facade broke. “You act so cool and cocky when really you’re just average at best. Everything you do. Average. You don’t have much to show for. Nothing you do is worth being proud of.”

Changbin slams his hands onto the wall, making you gasp. You stare at him with wide eyes. “Take that back,” he snarls. If you thought he was intimidating before, boy were you wrong. But something in your touch starved mind made you more horny than frightened. Feeling bold, you tilt your chin up, maliciously. “Or what, Seo?”

All of a sudden, he wraps his veiny arm around your neck, choking you. It was so arousing and so sudden that you let out an embarrassingly whiny moan. “Oh?” Changbin raises a brow with a smirk. He tightens his grip on your neck, laughing cockily when you let out another whine. “Oh, I see now,” he whispers in your ear, “You act so high and mighty, always trying to take control of things, when really you’re just some sub in disguise. Isn’t that right, doll?”

You bit your lip, eyes tearing up in sexual frustration. You eyes roll back, biting your lip harder, when his grip on your throat tightens. “Aww~ how cute. You look so pathetic like this, baby,” he says, biting the shell of your ear. You arch your back at the stimulation, grinding your hips into his with a whimper. You were so glad that you were at the farthest corner of the library. Changbin moves away from you and grabs your arm. “Let’s go. We’re leaving.”

He drags you back to your table and carelessly stuffs your belongings into your bag. He slings it over his should and harshly pulls you out of the library. His apartment wasn’t that far from the library so the two of you didn’t bother picking up a cab. The walking distance between the library and his house was only about 10 minutes or less, but to you guys, it felt like hours.

Changbin fumbles with his keys, wanting to unlock the door faster. When he succeeds, he pushes you inside, slamming and locking his door roughly. He throws your bag to the ground then proceeds to pull you into his room. He turns the knob and kicks his door open.

Once inside, he pushes you onto his bed, hovering above you. The two of you were panting heavily from the tension. “Please tell me to stop,” he breathes shakily, staring at your lips, finally saying his first words since the library. “If you don’t want this, tell me to stop before I lose it.”

Did you really want this? Do you really want him? Or is it just your hormones talking? You contemplate, thinking back on all the years you’ve known him. Yeah, you thought that he was annoying when you were younger, wanting nothing more than to push him down a well. However, as you grew up, you started to notice how mature he has gotten throughout the years. He still does make fun of you, but it wasn’t as bad as before. He did treat you like an actual human being when he wasn’t irritating you. Especially recently. He really did treat you nicely but you were too prideful yourself to admit that.

Even up to now, you said some really hurtful things to him, and he was still making sure you were okay when he could’ve just lashed out on you and done whatever he wants. Changbin is genuinely a really nice guy and you were just too stuck up to see that. In that moment, you realize that you actually like Changbin, as in, have genuine feelings for him. Maybe even way longer than you realize but you were being stubborn to acknowledge it. Speaking of, you seem to realize that you were so lost in thought that Changbin took your silence as a ‘no’.

Just as he was about to remove himself from your body, you grab onto his shirt and push your lips onto his. He was taken aback. He was convinced that you truly didn’t like him but you seem to have proved him wrong. Before he could kiss you back, you parted away from him, leaning your forehead against him. “Make me yours, Bin,” you whisper.

Without any hesitation, Changbin kisses you with fervor. The kiss held so much passion, desperation, and desire that it made you moan. You wrap your arms around his neck, messing with his dark hair. Changbin groans, grinding his hips against yours. He pulls away to take off your shirt and start marking you up. You mewl, feeling him suck, lick, and kiss your neck.

One particular suck on the juncture of your neck made you moan out loud. He smiles against your skin, taking extra time on that area. You cry out, pulling on his hair to get his attention. “Changbin…” you say breathlessly. He looks up and nearly loses it on the spot. You laying underneath him, neck covered with sexy red marks that he created. You already look so dazed out that Changbin wonders how much more beautiful you will look when he actually fucks you.

He moves up to your face, stroking your hair. “What’s wrong, doll?” he questions you softly. You whimper as you roll your hips up to meet his. Changbin hisses at the feeling.

“Inside,” you whine, “Want you inside me, please.”

“Do you now?” Now his tone was condescending. You pout, nodding your head. “Cute. What makes you thing that I’d just give it to you after how much of a brat you were earlier?” You rub your thighs together, pouting.

Tears starts forming in your eyes. “Please? I’m sorry for being a brat. I’ll make it up to you, I promise!”

Changbin chuckles darkly. “Oh, you will, doll,” he says, rubbing both your thighs. He glances up at you to read your expressions, only continuing when you gave him a confirming nod. He sits up and takes off your pants. He chuckles, licking his lips when he realizes that your bra and panties were a matching set. “How adorable.” he sings, making you flustered.

Changbin kisses your stomach before slipping his hand down your panties. You clench your thighs, trapping his hand, as he plays with your clit. He rubs slow circles on your clit, stroking your slit before sliding one finger inside you. You grab a fistful of his bed sheets, moaning. He lazily moves his finger in you, adding another one to fill you up a little more. You were already breathless. Your sweet moans filling up the entire room. Changbin starts to move his fingers faster, bending them, making you arch your back and whine louder.

You could already feel your high getting closer. You start squirming around in response. “Close, baby?” he asks, rhetorically. You nod your head frantically.

“Y-yes, fuck. Oh shi- yes.”

Changbin pumps his fingers faster for you, feeling yourself clenching tighter and tighter before you finally cum around them. He lets you ride out your high before slipping out of you. He brings his fingers to your lips, prying them open. “Open up, doll.” You let his fingers inside your mouth, swirling your tongue around his digits, tasting yourself, making the two of you groan. He pulls his fingers out of your mouth, sliding down so his face meets your wet core.

You look down at him, questioningly. You were about to ask him what he was doing until he licks up your slit. Your eyes widened as you threw your head back, letting out a moan loud enough that it borderline sounded like a scream. His tongue explores your pussy, occasionally sucking on your clit as you pant.

“N-no,” you stammer, “that’s not-n-no. I-I’m still sensi-ah!” You grip his hair, not sure if you’re trying to push him away or pull him closer. Changbin chuckles at this, the vibrations from it shooting up your core. Your sensitivity from your first orgasm brought you closer to your next release. You start bucking your hips, thighs closing in on his head as your core tightens. He grabs your thighs, prying them open. One last harsh suck on you clit made you cum again, this time on his tongue. Changbin licks up your slit, gathering up every single drop of your juices.

He sits up and smiles at you, his chin covered with your excess wetness. He rubs your thighs to calm you down. “You good, Y/n?” he worryingly asks, “Think you can handle one more?” You lazily nod your head, a little overwhelmed with the over sensitivity. Changbin wipes his mouth before crawling back to your face. He kisses you leisurely, taking his time with your lips to give you more time to calm down.

You hold onto his muscular biceps as he cups your face. You were still panting harshly even before he started making out with you. He peppers your face with gentle pecks, encouraging you to continue. “How ‘bout now? Can you handle one more orgasm, babe?”

This time, you could actually reply to him. “Y-yeah. ‘Think I can.” you said, quietly. Changbin smiles and gives you one more peck on your lips. He leans up and takes off his clothes. Even after two orgasms, you still felt needy for Changbin. Your eyes rake down his form, eyeing each one of his bulging muscles. Damn, no wonder why he’s always bragging about going to the gym everyday, cause he has every right to do so.

Now, if you thought his body was impressive, then his cock was another story. Your eyes widens, breath hitching when you see it. Holy shit, now I know why he’s so short, you thought. He has a monster cock that totally makes up for it. “Holy fuck-“ Changbin looks at you with a smirk.

“What’s wrong, doll? Bigger than you expected?” You nod dumbly, mouth ajar. Changbin could feel his ego skyrocketing. He pumps himself, throwing his head back in pleasure, finally feeling some kind of pleasure before lining himself to your hole. He adjusts his position, spreading your legs wider as well. “I’ll go as slowly as I can,” he mutters. You mumble a quiet ‘thank you’ as he starts pushing in.

Your mouth opens in a silent scream, eyes clenching as you try to take him in fully. Changbin moans rather loudly, your tightness a little too much for him. “W-wait. Fuck…” you call out with slight hiss. He stops his penetration, waiting for you to adjust. Your grip on his shoulders tightens, silently giving him the ok to move. He continues his advancement slowly until he bottoms out inside you. The both of you moan, giving each other time to relax.

Changbin leans down to kiss your cheek, whispering encouraging words to you. You stay in your positions for almost a minute before pleading for Changbin to move. At first, his thrusts were slow, testing out how well you could take him in for now. You moan softly, the way his hips move softly is already shooting bursts of pleasure throughout your body. Gradually, he picks up his pace, his once slow, loving thrusts are now hungry, desperate ones.

His hands were now on the back of your thighs, folding you in half. The new position allows him to reach deeper inside you. “B-bin,” you whine, clawing at his back, “hmm…fuck. M-more. Fuck me harder.”

“Harder? You really think your pretty little pussy can handle my cock, doll?”

“Yes! P-please g-give me more. I can handle i-it!”

Changbin laughs at your desperation, picking up his pace. You moan louder, moving your hips to meet his thrusts. Changbin’s soft moans and growls and your own whiny moans filled his bedroom. Neither of you knew who would break first, both of your releases nearing. The tip of his cock starts hitting right on your sweet spot, making you scream. He throws his head back with a loud, raspy moan when he feels you tightening around him.

“I’m s-so fucking close, Bin,” you cry, “Don’t s-stop!”

“My, what a desperate slut you are.”

He bites his lip, hips moving harder and deeper, as he leans closer to kiss you. Remembering the scene from the library, Changbin’s right hand snakes around your neck, firmly but gently choking you.You let yourself enjoy the feeling of him blocking your airways, closing your eyes in pleasure. You whine loudly when he slips his tongue in your mouth. You let him explore your wet cavern, loving the feeling. Your eyes shot open when you felt his thumb playing with your clit.

“Sh-shit! Changbin!” You moan, arching your back. You could feel the beginnings of your release.

“C’mon,beautiful,” Changbin whispers, “Cum for me.” His words seem to have triggered your orgasm. Your body went stiff, cumming around his cock, mumbling a bunch of expletives. You start trembling, the feeling of your orgasm was too intense. Changbin hisses, pulling himself out of you when he felt his own release nearing.

He pulls you up, pushing your head close to his throbbing dick. Getting the memo, you lean down and take him into your mouth. You bob your head up and down as you pump the rest of his cock. Changbin moans, his rough hand in your hair. He starts rocking his hips, pushing himself deeper into your mouth. One harsh tug on your scalp made you moan, the vibrations sends waves of pleasure down his cock making him throw his head back yet again.

“What a dirty little girl,” he pants heavily. “Love my cock that much, huh, doll?” Tears pool your eyes as you try humming in agreement. The second round of vibrations sent Changbin over the edge. Hot spurts of cum shoots down your throat. He holds your head in place until he finishes cumming. “That’s it, beautiful. Swallow it all. Don’t let anything go to waste.”

He lets go of your head and gently pushes you down his bed. He cups your cheek, rubbing it tenderly with his thumb. Changbin reaches behind you to unclasp your bra, throwing it down onto his floor and rubbing at your breast to soothe you, only letting go of them when you let out an uncomfortable whine. He moves up to your face and kisses you softly.

“Are you okay, Y/n?” he questions you. You nod, too fucked out to respond verbally. Changbin giggles, moving to lay beside you and petting your hair as you calm yourself. You turn your body to hug his, slightly catching him off guard. He immediately relaxes, however, and continues stroking your hair. The two of you lay comfortably until Changbin broke the silence.

“Did you mean it?” he asks, quietly. You note the tone of uncertainty in his words. Your eyes meet his in question.

“Mean what?” you slur, still having a bit of trouble talking.

“Did you mean what you said in the library? Do you really hate me? Was this just a…one time thing?”

You look at him sadly, his expression matching yours. He didn’t want this to be just a one night stand. He genuinely wants to be friends with you. Scratch that, he wants to be even more than that. You nibble on your lips, shaking your head.

“No…I don’t actually hate you…Yeah, you piss me off a lot but…I can’t actually hate you,” you say, moving your hands to cup his face. You could feel Changbin leaning into your touch. “Honestly, I don’t even remember when I started liking you. I guess I only just realized it now when you pushed me onto your bed.”

Changbin moves away from you in shock. “You…like me?” You timidly nod your head, a little embarrassed now. He lets out the biggest smile you’ve ever seen on him and kisses you. This time, this kiss was soft, filled with so much love and unsaid feelings. You giggle into the kiss, holding his face. Changbin pulls away from you and rests his forehead against yours, his eyes twinkling in joy. “You have no idea how happy I am to hear that.”

You smile, moving to peck his lips. “I’m sorry,” you tell him, “For everything I said. It was uncalled for and kinda mean. Scratch that, I really was a fucking bitch to you. You didn’t deserve that.”

Changbin hums, rubbing your back. “It’s okay. I’m sorry too. I get why you said all that. I mean, this whole rivalry started ‘cause of me, so this was kinda my fault to begin with.”

“No, it’s not. We both brought this upon ourselves, Bin, so we’re both at fault.”

“I guess…Let’s just start over?”

You contemplate. “I think,” you start cautiously, “It’s better if we don’t.”

“Huh?” Changbin was confused. “What do you mean no?”

“I mean, I don’t really want to forget about our past and pretend our years of bickering never happened. We already fell for each other’s bad qualities, so why should we, you know? There’s nothing for us to hide at this point.”

Changbin had a look of realization on his face, drawing out a long ‘ah’. “I like that,” he laughs. “You’re right. Let’s do that!” He pulls you closer to his broad chest, kissing the top of your head. He hugs your form tighter, as if he was afraid that this was a dream. “Oh yeah, what’re we gonna tell Chan and Jisung when we show up together all lovey-dovey?” he wonders out loud.

“No need to tell us anything!” a voice sounding a lot like Jisung’s calls out from the other side of Changbin’s door. “We’ve been home for 15 minutes now. We heard almost everything! Chill out goddamnit!” You both could hear Chan in the distance, yelling at Jisung for saying that while he goes on about how you two “actually did it, they finally got laid!”.

“Oh my god…” you groan in mortification while Changbin drowns with laughter. You hide your face on Changbin’s chest, feeling it shake from his laughs. “Looks like we got that down!” he jokes. You slap his chest with a whine.

Yup. Today now marks the end of the Seo-L/n war, and damn were you glad it did.

~End~

A/n: hi. if you didn’t know, this is actually a repost yay :) cause after all this time, this fic still hasn’t shown up in the tags cause t*mblr is a little bi-

[fruityutas]

𝗼𝘂𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗿𝗼𝗼𝗳 ⊱ 𝘄.𝘆𝗸

stoner!yukhei x reader

not proofread

genre ~ fluff, smut, highschool!au, richboy!yukhei

wc ~ 4k

synopsis ~ yukhei is your school’s weed dealer. he and his 6 friends all smoked in the back lot of the school every day after third period. you avoid his group because you don’t want to be seen as a trouble maker, but when you’re paired up with yukhei for a science project, you can’t exactly stay away for long.

warnings ~ cursing, drug use, sex with a condom

science was probably your least favorite subject. that and you were forced to take it at 9 am every day. what’s even worse is that you had to be in the same period as yukhei, or xuxi, as he liked to be called. the boy was as loud as he was tall. and oh my god, he was tall. luckily, he sat on the opposite side of the room from you. the teacher had to place him there because he was always playing around in the back.

you’re tugged out of your thoughts when the teacher finally stands up from her desk and starts talking about a partner project. she begins assigning partners, and everyone starts complaining. she hushes them and keeps setting random people together. “y/n and yukhei.” the laugh that comes from one of his friends, xiaojun, makes you roll your eyes. you turn to see them both looking at you, and yukhei gives a friendly wave, to which you return an awkward one. the teacher tells everyone to pair up with their partners and brainstorm ideas for the project. you make no moves to yukhei, so he just comes to you. you get out a pencil for him because you knew he didn’t bring one. he accepts it with a knowing blush on his face. “thank you.” you nod and begin writing ideas in silence, but yukhei keeps up talking. “so what are you thinking? i guess you’re not the speaking type huh?” you shoot him an incredulous look.

“no, i just don’t talk to you because all you do is skip class to go smoke.” it was a harsh response but it was the truth. his smile faltered and an awkward laugh slipped from his lips. “i- that was rude of me, i’m sorry yukhei. i just don’t want to be the only one to actually do the work on this project.” he nods slowly while keeping the eye contact. the more you look at him, you realize that he is quite attractive. his face is so symmetrical and his lips, god his lips. they look so kissable, soft and plump. you get so lost in thought you don’t realize he was trying to continue the work for this project.

“y/n, are you ok?” he waves his hand in your face, snapping you out of your dreaming. “you zoned out there for a second, did you get enough sleep last night?” “yes yes my bad, i just… was thinking.” the blush on your face made him laugh a little. “ok, so back to this project, we can work on it at my house since my parents are almost never home, if that's fine with you?” “that’s fine but why are they never home?”

“oh well they go on business trips a lot, ‘cause they’re high ups in the companies they work for.” you felt like his tone was hiding sadness, the fact that his parents were never there to see him or spend time with him must’ve hurt. “well now you have me to keep you company! other than your friends, of course.” the smile that graced his face made you feel warm inside. you exchanged numbers just as the bell for lunch rang, and you sat back to watch him leave with xiaojun.

that afternoon he texted you his address and asked if you could work on the project today, to which you agreed. when you got there, you were not expecting the mini mansion that it is. sure, you knew yukhei wasn’t poor, but his house is huge. you text him to let him know you’re here while you walk up to his front door. he opens it before you can even stop walking. “thanks for coming today, i kinda wanted to get to know you better while we work.” your eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “really? i wasn’t expecting that, honestly. i just thought you wanted to get it done quickly so you wouldn’t have to talk to me.” he shakes his head quickly and pulls you in the house. 

“please don’t think that i don’t like you, i’m sure you’re a really sweet girl. i think we got the wrong first impression of each other.” you giggle in agreement, which sends yukhei’s heart into overdrive. he has always found you cute, but he never had the courage to act on it like he had with others. the boys always teased him for it, saying that a drug dealer shouldn’t have trouble asking a girl out, but he always threatened them with revoking their “friend discount” of 90% which usually shut them up. the two of you continued the work that you’d started in class and got fairly far, when the front door swung open. you snapped your head up to see his six friends filing in. you knew all their names from talk around school, and it’s no surprise they know yours. ten and yangyang both stare at you with slight disdain while the others go in different directions of the house. 

“have you finally managed to get her pants down?” tens question makes you choke on air and yangyang just cackles. they both take seats on the large couch as if they live here, which they most likely almost do. yukhei starts speaking angrily in mandarin while you awkwardly get up and go into the kitchen for a drink. you find hendery in there playing with yukhei’s dog bella. he straightens up when he sees you and doesn’t make eye contact. you nod at the fridge so he’d move, and he asks you, “so are you like, smart? because i need help in algebra. i just don’t understand the whole domain and range thing.” you stare at him for a second before bursting into laughter. “hendery, why in the world is that the first question you ask me? i can help but i’m not gonna do the work for you.” his vigorous nods make you think his brain is knocking around his skull. you pat his shoulder lightly before walking back into the living room where kun and sicheng have also joined the other three. “so i should probably get going, since your friends are here, but uh, text me when you wanna work again?” he begins to protest your leaving. “no no, please stay. you can meet my friends.” you shoot a look of hesitance to yukhei, to which he returns with pleading eyes. how can you say no to him when he’s being cute? you sigh and mumble out a “fine” which makes him cheer and the others either shake their heads or laugh. you sit back down on the couch close to yukhei, making ten wiggle his eyebrows at you. xiaojun and hendery enter the room, making the couch fill up. kun clears his throat before turning to speak to you.

“y/n, what grade are you in?” the question catches you off guard and you stutter out your answer. “i’m a junior.” he hums and nods before muttering something to yukhei in mandarin. yukhei nods in fearful agreement and it leaves you wondering what the hell kun said to him. “well at least you’re not gonna fail like xuxi over here. he could use the help of someone as dedicated as you.” you blush at his comment. 

“yukhei, where is the-” “just call me xuxi, please.” “oh, ok then. uhhh where is the restroom?” he turns to point to a door in the hall behind the living room. “that first door there.” you nod and get off the couch as quickly as possible. as you’re walking away, they start talking amongst themselves, but loud enough for you to hear. “she’s cute, for sure. if you don’t snatch her up i might just have to.” kun was undeniably attractive, but he honestly terrified you. his serious demeanor and tendency to get into fights - and win - was not good for your nerves. you could hear yukhei whine at the older boy to stay away from you, and that he’d get around to it but he wants to make you at least comfortable around all of them. 

the bathroom lights seem too bright and make your head hurt. you check to see the time and it’s only 5:20 pm, you had told your mother that you wouldn’t be home until 7. “it’s just an hour and forty minutes, y/n, you can do this. just stay cool and it will be ok. they’re not going to be rude to you.” walking out of the bathroom, they get quiet when you get close. yukhei makes room for you next to him on the couch again, and you sit awkwardly. it’s quiet, and they’re all looking at you. the hot feeling of anxiousness creeps up your spine, and you look anywhere but their eyes.

“you can speak, y/n.” yukhei’s deep voice cuts the air and sends a chill down your spine, but it also brings you comfort, as if he was protecting you. ten breaks out into a cackle, muttering something along the lines of “she’s so red, are we really that scary?” yukhei scolds ten in mandarin, but it proves no use as the older boy continues laughing. “i’m not really sure what to say. you guys probably share zero interests with me.” a lighthearted laugh comes from you when finishing the sentence. yukhei’s hand makes its way to your thigh, causing you to jump a little. his large hand was warm, and it brought heat to your cheeks. “now y/n, i’m sure we share at least one interest.” you look skeptically at him, his big eyes shining.

“i don’t really know… i’m not a good conversation maker.” yukhei’s hand stays put on your thigh, a steady reassurance for your nerves. “well i’m assuming you don’t smoke, but i really need to right now so.” you shake your head in disagreement, the thought of smoking repulsive to you. yukhei stays put at your side while ten digs in his bag. kun is the next one to speak to you. “who’s your favorite musician? maybe we share music taste.” you fumble around, not expecting the question. you never really shared your music taste with anyone because it wasn’t what you thought people would expect from you. “um, i really like chase atlantic…” kun gives a surprised look. “that’s something we have in common, i love them. what’s your favorite song?” 

“oh really? my favorite is probably right here orrrr out the roof. but if i’m honest all their songs are good.” kun nods enthusiastically. a small huff comes from your side, and you look over to see yukhei pouting. kun just laughs and gets up to sit near ten, who had started smoking during the conversation. yangyang, xiaojun, and hendery had run off to play with bella. sicheng was napping on the loveseat across from you. yukhei rests his head on your shoulder and snuggles into you. “you know, you’re really cute.” his hands wrap around your waist in display of either jealousy or possessiveness. your face burns with embarrassment. you squeak out a response to his complement. “thank you, yuk- xuxi.” he giggles and squishes your cheek in his large hand. you decide to bite the bullet and cuddle up to him, not seeing any use in resisting since you didn’t mind it. the room smelled of weed and you were close enough to smell yukhei’s cologne. the scents were strong, yet the fact that you were close to yukhei made them feel as if they were normal. 

“xuxi?” he looks up at you from his position, face painted with a smile. you couldn’t deny that it tugged on your heart strings to be so close to him. “hmm? is everything ok?” you nod at him, smiling back. “i just need a water, i’m thirsty.” he lets go of you, but gets up before you can. “let me get it for you, i’ll be right back.” you sit patiently and wait, observing your surroundings. sicheng was still napping, yangyang had since joined kun and ten while hendery and xiaojun were playing a video game on the tv. yukhei returns with a water bottle in hand before sitting back beside you. you take the first step initiating cuddling this time, catching him by surprise. he leans back into the spacious couch, pulling you onto him. you get comfortable in his arms fairly quickly, the large boy being unusually warm. you fall asleep in his arms, only waking up to your phone ringing. “shit, i have to go.” your mom was calling, and the time was 8:30. you were so in trouble when you got home. yukhei groans and wakes up from your moving. “is everything ok?” his tired voice was rough and it made you blush. “y-yeah everything is fine i just have to leave, it’s late.” he rubbed his eyes and stood up. the other boys were either asleep or playing on their phones. “i’ll walk you home, it’s the least i can do.” you agree and get your things together. it was dark and cold outside, and you’re glad yukhei is walking you. he links your hands together and pulls you closer. 

“hmm where is your jacket?” you laugh nervously and look up at him. “i’m just forgetful, i guess.” he laughs and wraps his arm around you to preserve heat. your house isn’t too far from his, so it’s only 9 o’clock when you get there. you don’t even knock on the front door because your mother opens it with an angry look on her face.

“do you have any idea what time it is?” you go to say something but yukhei gets to faster. “I’m sorry, mrs. it’s my fault, we were working and i lost track of time.” your mother’s face softens and she sighs. “well then, i understand. come on, y/n, i’ll warm your dinner up. and thank you for walking her home young man.” yukhei bids you and her goodbye before turning to leave. you give him a kiss on the cheek before walking into your house, not turning back because of the raging blush on your face.

the next few times you work on the project with yukhei, the boys aren’t there. you have a suspicion he told them not to come, but you don’t mention it to him. today had been just as peaceful up until you notice yukhei zoning out.  “yukhei please try and focus, we need to get at least this part done today.” he was constantly fidgeting and couldn’t concentrate on the task at hand. he grumbles something you can’t quite hear. “what was that? are you ok?”

“i need to smoke. it’s hard to focus without it.” oh. you were confused, wasn’t weed non-addictive? “isn’t weed like-” “i have physical dependence on it, i can’t just not smoke when i want anymore. it’s... shitty but i can’t help it at this point. i’ll be quick, I promise.” you nod slowly, hesitant that he’d be able to do any work at all while high. not that you’d ever experienced him high before, but people and the internet let you know the effects somewhat. yukhei doesn’t even leave the room to do it, and the smell is overwhelming. you flinch every now and then, the headache from the stench of the plant pulsating in your brain. yukhei seems to notice and puts the bong down before pulling you close to him. you begin to protest, but being so close to him and the cologne he wears drowns out the smell of the drug heavy in his hands. you relax into his form, snuggling into the crook of his neck. you think to yourself how you don’t really want this moment to end, and how yukhei was comforting to be around. he always made exceptions or catered to you when he didn’t have to. he could very well be mean to you and not care, but he takes effort to show that you’re included in everything, and it meant a lot to you. his long fingers run up and down your back in soothing motions, bringing you impossibly close to him. he struggles to put his supplies up with you cradled in his lap so you begin to get up, but he verbalizes his distaste with it. “no no, you’re fine. just sit still baby.” the pet name he gave you made heat rush to your cheeks. you obey his order and stay put in his lap, though your constant moving was causing a bit of a... problem in his jeans. you could feel his semi-hard cock against your core, and out of some sort of animal instinct you grind down on it. yukhei lets out a breathy grunt while putting away the last of his setup. 

“jesus fuck y/n. you’re gonna make me fully hard if you keep on like that.” he grabs your hips to make you still against him. your face could not be any more red than it is, embarrassment at a high. yukhei just laughs and brings your head out of his shoulders to look at him. “you don’t have to do anything with me, you know that, right?” you nod sheepishly and avoid eye contact with the boy. he leans in close to your ear, nipping the lobe just a bit before whispering to you, “but i feel like you want to, hm?” 

you let out a shaky breath and pull yourself into him again. “i think i’d really like that, yes.” sex was not really new to you, you had a previous partner but it was only once. it felt exciting to you, having someone want you so bad. taking your hips in his hands again, he moves your body along his lap, the friction of both your bottoms adding to the pleasure. “fuck baby, you feel so nice just grinding on my cock, i wonder how you’ll feel bouncing on it.” his dirty words cause a whimper to erupt from your throat, sending heat straight to your lower regions. “xuxi please…” he chuckles at your weak state.

“please what? you gotta tell me what you want.” you’re already a mewling mess in his lap, the words coming out incoherently. “please, just use me. i want you so bad, xuxi please.” he hums in your ear and maneuvers the two of you up off the floor, then walks to his room, holding you. as if you were weightless, he tosses you onto the bed, and you almost moan at how strong he is. “are you gonna lay there or are you gonna get undressed for me?” you scramble to take off your clothes, the commanding tone in his voice sending shivers down your spine. “that’s a good girl. you’re such a good girl for me huh?” his long fingers pitter down your thighs, stroking the insides of them every now and then. “xuxi, mmph! i want your mouth, please.” he smirks and dives in like a man starved, tongue spreading your wetness around. it was messy, but it felt so good. using a mix of tongue and fingers, yukhei brought you so close to orgasm, only to back away at the last second. you whine out at him and buck your hips up to his mouth. “ah ah, kitten. be patient or you get nothing.” he reaches up to play with your breasts, pinching at your nipples. his other hand strokes the inside of your thigh painstakingly slow. “you’re so cute, baby. all those times you’d sit close to me or fall asleep on me, i just wanted to ruin you. do you want me to?” you nod like your life depended on it, you wanted him to make you fall apart.

he shimmies out of his jeans and boxers, cock springing up and slapping his abdomen. opening his bedside drawer, he pulls out a condom. taking the packet in between his teeth, he opens it and puts the rubber on. you can only stare in awe, his length was impressive. it was around nine inches and had a girth sure to split you in half. yukhei notices your gaze and laughs. “you like what you see? well it’s all yours, baby.” he crawls over you, pulling your thighs up to your chest. “you’re sure you want this?” you nod at the tall boy, pulling him in for a kiss as he pushes into you. bottoming out, groans spill from the both of your mouths. he pulls out slowly, letting you have time to adjust before thrusting in and setting a steady pace. skin slapping skin resonates through the room and bounces off the walls. his thrusts were hard enough to jolt your body, tits bouncing with each one. without stopping, he lifts your body up and holds you to his chest while he sits on his heels. the new position let him hit places deep inside you, amplifying the pleasure. you could feel the head of his cock hitting your cervix with each thrust into you. sweet whimpers and moans fell from your lips, yukhei was basking in the sounds of your enjoyment. grunts into your ear came from him every minute or so. “p... please go harder.” tears built up in the corners of your eyes from the overwhelming pleasure, drool coating your lips from incoherent babbling. yukhei’s speed increased, his breaths coming out shaky and thrusts unsteady. “i’m so close, xuxi” the hot coil in your lower parts was winding tighter by the second, your release creeping just around the corner. “i know princess, me too.” yukhei started toying with your clit, rubbing quick circles on it. “you can cum, just let go.” as if he had full control of your body, the coil snaps and you cum with his name pouring from your lips like a mantra. his hips stutter as he gets close to his climax, thrusts slow and deep. he comes after a few more strokes, letting his cock pulse inside your tight walls. you sit there to catch your breath while yukhei throws the condom away and brings back a damp rag to clean the both of you up. after he finishes, he gets into bed behind you and draws the covers up over you.

“do you need me to walk you home?” you slowly open your eyes and look up at him. “or do you want to stay?” you snuggle closer to him and mumble “i’ll just call and tell my mom i’m staying at a friend’s since it’s friday.” you can’t see it, but yukhei smiles sweetly. “y/n, i know people usually don’t have sex before dating, but if i could, i wanna be your boyfriend.” you squeeze his torso and let out a meek “yes, i’d love that” before falling asleep together.

yukhei as a boyfriend was something to behold. he was constantly goofy and treated you as if you were the only girl in the world. the guys accepted you quickly and you were deemed the mom of the group. hendery got himself a girlfriend and you became best friends with her, always gossiping about the others. you all were basically a family, sharing good times and bad, but you always pulled through.

“y/n! c’mere, look at this.” yukhei’s loud voice was the first thing you hear in the school halls. “please xuxi, you’re so loud. don’t want everyone looking at us.” you giggle to let him know you were joking, not actually caring if people heard you. “look, there’s this old church about ten minutes away from the school and we think it’d be a really cool place to hang out.” you hum in acknowledgement, looking at the pictures sicheng had sent to yukhei. the building wasn’t damaged heavily, and it would be a really good spot for the rest of the group to smoke. “let’s do it! and while you guys smoke i can look around and take pictures.” yukhei can’t help but look at you with stars in his eyes. you were his world, and he never failed to show that. even the group could tell he was whipped for you, they always teased him but he never cared. 

“well let’s go! c’mon, no one will notice if we leave now.” anyway you look at it, there’s no place you’d rather be than with yukhei.

[lord-multifandom-murder]

Silence is golden (Fred Weasley x reader)

A/N: This came to me in a 'poof' moment.....and technically I haven't been writing Fred content so I guess I should make up for it.

Summary: You're quite a quiet person, and almost a wallflower. Little did anyone know, you were extremely mischievous underneath that quiet surface. Fred finds this out after your friends get bullied.

Warnings: I suppose none, per usual.

Requests are OPEN!!

Since you were extremely quiet, no one ever expected you to play pranks. They always suspected it was the twins, Fred and George Weasley.

The perfect cover.

Fred and George always thought it was strange. Weren't they the only troublemakers in Hogwarts? Or was there someone else who did it in the shadows?

To be honest, George was more laid-back on the matter, but Fred was more bothered by it. It could damage their reputation as pranksters. Seeing that it wasn't them, and that these pranks were rather way out of their league.

Interestingly enough, that person always left a mark. It was rather odd, because no one in their right mind would do that, except for this daring maverick. It was always the same thing, a drawing of an 'X' wherever the prank was set up.

They were well-thought of, and almost nothing was left by the person who did them. Well, little did anyone know, it was you. You were quiet, yes, which made it easier to do things since no one bothered you. Since you were silent half the time, no one really bothered to wonder what you were thinking about.

Now, except for Fred.

He had noticed you sitting underneath a tree in the courtyard, deep in thought. It wasn't strange to find you alone even though you had friends, but Fred being Fred, came over to bother you. Mainly because he wanted to ask you on a date, really.

No one ever would have thought he would've fallen for the silent bookworm, Y/N Y/L/N, who was so quiet sometimes if you were standing right behind someone, they wouldn't know until they turned around and jumped in fright.

Fred had witnessed some of those exchanges, really. And he thought they were actually very hilarious.

"Hello there, Y/N," he smiles. You look up to see him standing in front of you, casting a shadow over. "Hello, Fred. What're you doing alone on this fine day?" you ask, quirking your eyebrow.

Fred looked surprised that you knew it was him, because him and George were always easily mistaken for each other; it was sometimes good, and sometimes bad. You could tell it was him because little did he know, you were around him more often than he would notice.

Rather if it was a prank, or just sitting nearby him in the Great Hall, after making a few observations, you could roughly guess who was who most of the time, which got easier after a while. And technically because you had a secret crush on the extroverted redhead.

You smirked amusedly at his face. "Think, Weasley. I wondered why you haven't placed a finger on that 'quiet person' stereotype yet."

Fred chuckled and sat next to you, leaving a slight distance between you to be polite. "I was just wondering if you weren't like the other quiet kids I see around here."

You smile. "It's nice to see that you don't judge a book by it's cover Fred. I admire that about you."

Did I ever mention that you were rather blunt with your words?

Fred blushed slightly but didn't say anything. You smile and mirror his behaviour. "Say, could you help me with some Charms homework? I heard you're very good, considering I always hear Flitwick bragging about you in-between classes."

"Sure, d'you wanna go to the library? It's more quiet there so I can focus," you say, ready to stand up. Fred suddenly grabbed your arm and pulled you down. "Sorry, but uh....I'm actually busy at the moment but maybe we can meet tomorrow in the library? After lunch? I'm not in a hurry to turn this in."

"Okay then, after lunch," you repeat. Fred smiled and got up, brushing his trousers. "Well, it was nice talking to you Y/N, but I have an appointment with my dear twin brother."

"Bye, then. Oh, say hello to George for me!" you say with a playful smile.

"Don't worry, I won't forget!" he calls back, jogging off. You smile quietly even though you were screaming internally, and went back to thinking.

---------

The next day, you were walking to lunch with Neville and Ron. He was helping to tutor the both of you since you weren't doing very well at the subject.

You met with Harry and Hermione and they greeted you as you sat down. Hermione gave you a kind smile and started asking you a bit about what Neville taught you and Ron about. Neville eagerly entered the conversation as you ate and discussed about the proper way to manage a Fanged Geranium.

"What're you doing here, Longbottom? Shouldn't you be in the greenhouses playing with dirt?" a snide voice sounded. Hermione grimaced as Malfoy walked towards the Gryffindor table.

"Shove off, Malfoy. It's none of your business," Ron grumbled, stabbing his Shepherd's Pie rather violently.

"Manners, Weasley. Honestly, Longbottom. Why are you ever here? You can barely do magic. You're worse than that Mudblood Granger."

You stood up abruptly, turning around to glare at Malfoy.

"Oho, Y/L/N! What're you going to say? Share your thoughts! Oh wait, you can't because you barely talk!"

"That's enough, Malfoy!" Hermione snaps angrily. "Shut it, Granger. Go on, Y/L/N. Do you even know words?"

You sigh, and nod. But that's all you do. Malfoy tried to bother you again to say something, mocking your chosen silence. You huff and turn around again, holding a fork at him, surprising everyone. You motion for him to move back to his table.

Surprisingly, he complies and slouches away. Fred watches you with awe as you sit down calmly, as if nothing happened, with people gawking at you. "Silent, but deadly," he thinks to himself, as he watches Hermione scold you for brandishing a fork at Malfoy, while Harry and Ron were chuckling amongst themselves about how funny his face was.

As you made your way to the entrance of the Great Hall, you feel someone tap your shoulder. You look around to see Fred grinning. "That was pretty cool, what you did back there," he remarked. You smile. "Thanks, I've been meaning to do that for awhile."

Fred smiles again. "He's a right git. He deserved that."

"So I assume we're going to the library?" you ask, strolling out with Fred. "I see you remembered our little study date, eh?" he grins.

"I don't remember calling this a study date," you say, looking at him. Fred groaned inwardly. "I-I didn't mean-"

"Nevermind, it's fine. I dont mind if we thought of this as a study date," you say, trying to cover up your blunt mistake, feeling bad for making Fred nervous.

He shrugs. "It's fine," he says. "Let's go on our study date, then." he decides with a playful smile.

Once you reach the library, you bring him to your favourite place, which was a tiny secluded haven. Little did Fred know, you were there half the time when you were formulating a new prank.

You had your secret stash of books there, filled with all sorts of stuff. Strategies, inventions and ideas. But, Fred needn't know that. It's Charms he needs.

So, you sat next to him, Fred happily finding comfort in a squishy armchair he claimed just seconds ago. So, on went the lesson.

And on went your plan for revenge on Malfoy.

After helping him with most of his homework, you excused yourself and went to sit a little further away at a desk while he finished up his essay.

You pulled a book out and started to read. Fred looked up at you as you read and blushed, remembering how cute you were when you focused. "Mind finishing your work before you admire me?" you ask, not taking your eyes of your book.

Fred chuckled. "I'm finished," he says. You close your book and move towards him, taking his parchment and reading it through to check for any mistakes. "Well, it seems that we're finished here," you say, giving the paper back to him and going to your desk to keep your book.

Fred smiled and stood up. "Well, I'm glad that you decided to help me. I wouldn't have been able to even pass this up without your help!" he says, while zipping his bag.

"I'm glad that you came to me for help, actually. Not many people thought that I would want to, since I don't talk much," you say.

"But you've talked plenty before!" Fred exclaims.

"'Course I have. Only when people initiate the conversation first. And only if I want to talk to them."

"Then I consider myself lucky that you wanted to talk to me," Fred jokes, laughing with you. You smile quietly before Fred leaves, when you said that you had work of your own to finish before going back to your Common Room.

Work, that is, for a prank to pull on a certain blonde brat.

Fred walks back in a daze, with a stupid smile on his face. When he went into the boys' dorms and sat on his bed, he shoved his face in to the pillow and hugged it hard. George and Lee who were playing a round of Exploding Snap watched with smirks on their faces.

"I assume your little study date with Y/N went well?" George asked with raised eyebrows.

"Very well," Fred answered happily.

---------

That night, he couldn't sleep. It was silly, the fact that he had fallen so hard for you that he was kept awake just by the mere thought of you. Yet, he wasn't complaining.

He sighed and sat up. "Oh, what's the use?" he grumbles to himself. He stood up and padded quietly to the door. When he opened it and sneaked down the stairs, he decided to go and have a nice cup of hot chocolate.

While he was navigating through the corridors, he heard footsteps. Quick and light, he noticed a shadow darting in the neighbouring corridor. He hurried over, and his eyes widened in surprise to find someone he wasn't expecting to see late at night. That certain someone who kept him up for the same reason.

You.

You had a bag slung over your shoulder, walking as quietly as possible. Fred looked down and noticed you weren't wearing shoes at all. He then saw you hurry down a flight of stairs, and through a secret passage that he never knew existed.

He quickly followed you, wondering what you were up to. He then noticed that you were heading in the direction of the Great Hall. He followed you curiously, watching you sneak through the giant doors towards the Slytherin Table.

He followed after you, but then accidentally stubbed his toe on the bench leg, causing him to hiss out a curse. He saw you lift your head, and then hide under the table. He limped padded towards you and rapped the table.

Underneath, you were hyperventilating. Shit, you thought. I didn't see anyone!

But then you heard Fred's hushed voice. "Y/N, is that you?" he whispers urgently. You peek your head out from underneath the table and looked up to see a bewildered Fred peering down at you.

".....yea?" you ask timidly, not sure of what to say to him. This was a rather awkward exchange.

"What're you doing here? And why do you have a marker-wait....," Fred asked, suddenly realising something. "Were you the one playing all those pranks?" he asks, surprised.

"What if I am?" you defend. Fred looked under the table to see a little contraption sticking out from underneath. He takes note of a little red 'X' beneath the table. "So you are," he notes.

"Please don't tell anyone! I'm sorry!" you blurt out. "Sorry? For what? And why in Merlin's name would I tell anyone?" Fred asks.

"I'm sorry that everytime I play a prank I let the blame fall on you! I just thought it was fun, playing tricks secretly," you mumble.

"Hey, it's fine! So, you ARE that famous secret prankster! Me and George have been dying to find out who it was! Your pranks are ingenious!" Fred exclaims.

You blush. "Thanks," you say. "I guess it helps that you're quiet sometimes, no one bothers you much," you say.

Fred looks at you in awe. "And I thought that you couldn't get anymore amazing," he says. "What?" you ask, confused.

Oh well, it's now or never.

"Well, Y/N, I've liked you for a while now, and I was wondering if you.....wanted to go to Hogsmeade with me on the weekend?" he asks shyly.

You weren't expecting this.

"Sorry-I-you don't have to if you want, I just-," Fred stammered.

Suddenly, you jump on him and hug him tight. "You're serious?" you ask, your voice slightly muffled.

"Yes?" he answered uncertainly, looking down at you. He was then taken by surprise when you kissed him. It was rather quick, but when you broke apart, both of you were blushing.

"I'd love to," you whisper with a shy smile.

"W-wait, really?" Fred asks.

"Do I need to repeat myself?" you ask with a raised eyebrow.

"Y-yea, especially before you kissed me," he says.

"Idiot," you snort, leaning in again, but this time kissing him slowly, his arms slowly winding around you and savouring the moment.

"I'd love to," you repeat. Fred's face breaks into a wide grin and spins you around, causing you to shriek with laughter.

"Shhh! Aren't you supposed to stay quiet?" Fred snickers. "Blame the one who caused me to make the noise!" you shoot back.

Both of you laugh amongst yourselves before sneaking back to your dorms.

---------

"So you're telling me that Y/N is the person who's been pulling all those pranks?!" George exclaims at breakfast, after Fred regaled his night time wander with him.

"Yes! And don't tell anyone! If they ask, just say that we don't know," Fred hisses.

George raised his eyebrows. "Don't you dare, or I'll hex you into next week," Fred threatens, brandishing his wand at his twin.

"I get the message. No one's gonna believe me anyways," George says, before diving into his breakfast. Fred looks around to see you stroll into the hall and he waves you over excitedly. You smile and walk over.

"Morning, beautiful," Fred greets, kissing your cheek and surprising people nearby.

"Hold on......since when were you and Y/N dating?!" Ron asks.

"Since just now," Fred retaliates, sticking his tongue out at his younger brother. "Are your feet cold?" he whispers to you.

"No? Why would my feet be cold?" you question.

"You were walking around barefoot last night! Your pretty feet must've been freezing!"

"I had my reasons for not wearing anything," you say mysteriously. "Oh? Do tell," Fred says.

"Shoes make too much noise. It would attract attention easily, what's to say no one'll hear me clacking around in the middle of the night?"

"Unless you stub your toe on something, the pain's a bitch," Fred grumbles, still salty about stubbing his toe last night since he was just wearing socks.

You snort, but is quickly drowned out by a loud yell coming from the Slytherin Table.

Everyone turns around and roars with laughter when they see Malfoy head-to-toe in some Colour-Changing Ink.

Fred noticed that Malfoy was sitting in the same place where he found the little device. His point was proven when a Slytherin cried out, "Hey! There's an 'X' on the floor!"

He looks at you with a wide grin. "So THAT'S why you snuck out! You're lucky no one caught you!"

Fred watches you in awe as you ask Hermione to pass the marmalade calmly while everyone was howling with laughter at Malfoy.

You smirk, leaning over to say to him quietly, "Told you, Weasley. Silence is golden."

[geminidentitycrisis]

Fatgum x F!reader "What a Hero SHOULD do"

Whew.

You guys.

I've been gone a long while, life has been a rollercoaster, but I don't really wanna get into all that noise. Just happy to be in a good place right now.

That said, this was painful to write because I had planned the ending very differently...

I'm not officially in the bnha/mha fandom but, I just got into it recently and wanted to show some love to my favorite Pro!

Hope you guys like it!

I haven't written anything in a while, so please go easy on me...

_____________

(WARNING! Mild angst)

"Hey, Fat...can I ask you something kinda personal...?"

Fatgum glanced down at his young intern with an eyebrow raised, tilting his head in curiosity. "Huh? Oh, sure. What's on yer mind?" he gave an encouraging grin to put Kirishima at ease. The red head craned his neck to look up at his boss, his own mouth twisted into a small frown.

"Have you asked _______ on a date yet...?"

He stumbled a bit but keeps walking, caught off guard by the question, a slight blush rising to his cheeks. "Woah, where did that come from?!" he asked in return with a nervous chuckle. "Well..." Kirishima continued "You guys seem really close. The way you look at her when you see her-"

"Hahaha!" the burst of anxious laughter interrupted and Red Riot looked up at Fatgum again in confusion. "You're reading too deep into it, man! We're just friends! Heh..." Toyomitsu tried to act casually, but it wasn't working at all.

Kirishima pouted a bit, deciding to push a little harder.

"...but, I think she has feelings for you, too-" the blonde stopped walking and stared down at him, his blush growing darker and spreading across the bridge of his nose, cutting him off again. "Okay, let's change the topic, huh? Maybe we should go somewhere else for lunch..."

Eyes widening a bit, Red Riot raised both hands defensively and shook his head. "No, no! I'm sorry...I won't mention it again..." his expression became one of defeat and disappointment, shoulders slumping as he continued to walk, staring down at the sidewalk.

With an inward wince, Toyomitsu followed close behind, his own gaze dropping to the ground as well. Silence passed between the Pro and his sidekick for several minutes before Fatgum spoke up again.

"Honestly, she deserves better..." he mumbled.

This was a surprise to Kiri, his mentor was always inspirationally self-confident, it was disheartening to hear such a comment from the man he so deeply admired. He opened his mouth to argue, but stopped himself when he remembered that he had already promised to drop the subject.

He felt bad for bringing it up now.

_______ was a sweet lady, she was funny and friendly, vivacious and beautiful, generous, tough and a fantastic cook. All Kirishima wanted was to see them both happy together. When they spotted each other through the window of the diner, their eyes lit up, a smile instantly formed on their lips, they would practically start glowing.

She always ran to jump into his arms, hugging around his neck, never failing to say how she missed him. He caught her every time, hiding his face in her hair as he hugged her back and would say he had missed her too, but especially her cooking!

If that isn't true love, Kiri thought, then what is...?

They finally made it to the diner and stopped outside. Fatgum looked through the window, and when he didn't see ______ anywhere, glanced at Red Riot again with a frown. "Listen, can I count on you to keep that little conversation between us? I don't want ______ to know how I feel..."

"You're not sick, are you??" a soft voice piped up from beside Toyomitsu.

It made both of them jump, startled. Fatgum whipped his head around to see ______ standing there, instead of her pretty smile, her face was flooded with worry at the thought of her Hero being ill or injured.

The Pro forced a crooked grin as the blush returned to his cheeks. "N-no, no, I'm fine! How's it goin'...?" he stuttered weakly.

She was clearly not convinced, the concern in her bright (e/c) eyes only deepened. "C'mon...all this time we've known each other, you think I can't tell when something's bothering you...?" he started to panic a bit but Red Riot swooped in to save the day like the rising star he was.

"Aw, he just had a big breakfast, that's all...he doesn't wanna hurt your feelings if he can't finish lunch." Kirishima answered casually with a lightly teasing undertone, arms crossing over his chest. She looked from him up at Fatgum who responded to her questioning expression with a sheepish grin and shrug.

At this, her smile bloomed in place, eyes twinkling mischievously as she playfully elbowed his broad, squishy belly. "Oh, c'mon! When have you ever left here without takeout, even after filling up?! As if it matters..." she giggled, hopping up into his arms as always, chin resting on his shoulder as she nuzzled against him sweetly.

"I'm just happy you're okay...I missed you!"

Bending at the waist with his arms extended, the blonde caught her effortlessly when she hopped up for the hug, sighing and closing his eyes as he rises to his full height, squeezing the small girl gently.

"Ahh, I'm fine, I'm fine...I missed you too..."

Kirishima gave a soft smile as he watched the exchange, dropping himself into the patio chair where he always sat when they came to the diner.

When he set her down, ________ smiled from him to his sidekick. "Your food should be done soon. It's a new recipe! I hope you guys like it!" then she waved over her shoulder as she walked back inside. Exhaling softly, Fatgum turned to sit as well. He glanced over at Red Riot, blushing a bit, only for it to get worse when he notices the toothy grin he's being flashed.

"...Oh, knock it off..." the pro grumbles, arms crossing and lowering his eyes to the tabletop.

"I didn't SAY anything...~!" Kirishima taunted childishly, arms folding behind his head as he leans back and closes his own eyes. "You didn't have to, punk." Tai shot back in typical big-bro style, reaching out across the table to muss the teens perfectly sculpted hair. "Aw, quit! It takes 40 minutes to set every morning!"

Fatgum chuckled, eyes rolling.

After some minutes passed, _______ returned with another server, both carrying trays of food which they placed on the table in front of the two heroes. "Wow! It looks so good!" they said simultaneously, earning a laugh from her.

"Well, I hope you like the taste even more. It's a cheeseburger-tater-tot-casserole. Dig in!" wasting no time, Kirishima and Toyomitsu start chowing down, both groaning happily around mouthfuls of the meal and nodding in approval. "Mmm...!" _______ laughed again, giving a thumbs up.

"Glad to hear it! I'll be right back with your drinks."

She left again but came back quickly with two pitchers and a cup, putting them between their plates. "Yer an angel, _____." Fatgum said with a grin, taking one of the pitchers and starting to drink from it. Red Riot snickered quietly before sipping his own drink.

"Oh, I just remembered! Check this out!" she said cheerfully, reaching behind her neck and starting to untie her apron. Upon glancing at her and noticing this, Fatgums eyes grew wide and a dark blush pooled in his cheeks, choking slightly on the ice water. "...?!"

Kiri froze, his eyes getting big as well and blushing slightly.

She dropped the top, revealing...

A tank top. With a picture of a sombrero. It said "If you don't like TACOS, I'm NACHO type"

Red Riot started laughing, covering his eyes with a hand as he tipped back his head. "Cute, right?!" she asked enthusiastically, looking from one to the other. Smiling weakly, Fatgum gave a slow nod. "It's great...really clever..." he wondered if steam would rise off him if he poured the rest of the water down his neck.

"Yeah, I knew I had to have it when I saw it. Anyway," she started to fix her apron again. "I'll let you guys finish eating. Let me know if you need boxes and your takeout oughtta be done before you get done with those. Enjoy!" with that, she walked off.

The blonde watched over his shoulder as she left before sliding his plate out of the way, folding his arms on the table and burying his face in them.

Grinning, Kiri nudged his foot under the table. "DON'T. SAY. A WORD." this reply only got him to laugh again, head shaking as he resumed eating. "Whatever you say, boss..." the red head hummed.

Between them, they were able to clear their dishes, waiting by the front door for the takeout, both content and full of tasty food. "Alright, guys. Here ya go! I'm glad you liked lunch, lemme know when you wanna try it again." Tai smiled down at her when she came out, taking the bags gratefully. "Yeah, definitely. Will do!"

______ hugged Kirishima tightly, pulling him down to place a kiss on his forehead, surprising him and making him blush faintly since she hadn't done it before. "Be safe, young man, you hear me?" she demanded. He answered with a broad smile and a nod. "Gotcha!"

"Ooh, do I get one of those?" Fatgum asked half jokingly, blushing too. Some color rose up on her cheeks as well, giving him a warm smile as she reached up for the BMI hero.

He put down the food to pick her up again for another hug, chuckling softly when she pressed a tender kiss against his cheek. "Aw, that was sweet!" Kirishima called up to them, earning a swift kick to the ass. "Ow! Hey!" the red head complained, rubbing the spot.

He set her down carefully with a deep sigh. She didn't let go of his arms and he looked at her in confusion. "Please be careful out there, Taishiro...I don't know what I'd do if anything happened to you..." he grinned, placing a hand on her head. "I will. I'll be back before ya know it!"

She pressed herself into his tummy, coming nowhere close to being able to wrap her arms around him but she gives him her best hug anyway. The pro didn't have to look at his intern to know he was smirking smugly. He hugged her back before stepping away to grab his bags again. "Well...see ya, _____."

He waved, smiling, then turned so they could head back out. They only took a few steps before Fatgum stopped and glanced back at her over his shoulder.

She was still there, offering another small smile and wave of goodbye.

"C'mon, man! Just go for it! You TOTALLY got this!" Kiri urged desperately. But he was still hesitant. It wasn't an issue of his own self-confidence, but his career. He was so busy that he would hardly have time for you, and the way Toyomitsu saw it, you deserved to be waited on hand-and-foot.

He dreamed about being with you, which meant his worst nightmare would be a villain or criminal using you as leverage against him. It was best to leave things the way they are. It's what he SHOULD do.

A real Hero isn't so selfish as to put their own desires ahead of the safety of those they cherish, he reminded himself. With a heavy heart, he forced a smile to hide the pain and waved back before looking down at the ground and sighing, eyes closing slowly.

"...I just...can't...

[mywritingonlyfans]

“All right class, Professor Heras is out today, so y’all know what that means,” Damiano claps his hands together as he stands at the front of the auditorium. He isn't too exstatic about being up before 11 am either, but at least he gets to be in charge for once. “Be honest with me, who actually did the reading, raise your hands, I won’t tell Prof.”

There is a slight hesitation in the class before a few hands go up. He laughs at the sparseness, but appreciates the honesty nonetheless, “Okay, okay, well for those of you who didn’t read it, you’re missing out because Mary-Anne Evans writes wonderfully, even when hidint her identity; this one is even a favorite of mine so I’m taking this personally. So, we’re gonna talk about the characterization of Dorothea and Edward. I want you guys to tell me how they are developed and what we know about them. C’mon, I wanna see hands.”

Honestly, Damiano loves when he gets to command the class— part of why he’s working towards becoming a professor himself, but he still has a ways to go on his master's program. He hopes his future classes are more enthusiastic than this, but he doesn’t mind taking the lead.

“Cool, I’ll start!” he exclaims to the empty classroom. He already knows he’s far too energetic for the morning, but he has the traditional espresso he picked up on the way to class that’s still sitting half full on the professor’s desk to thank for that.

“So, what do we know about Dorothea? She’s nineteen, an orphan pious, living with her younger sister, and she's courted by Sir James. But what is the problem with this?”

A student raises his hand, “Dami, it’s nine in the morning.”

“Doesn’t answer my question, anyone else?”

“She is oblivious to him. She is attracted instead to Edward Casaubon, 45-year-old scholar. Dorothea accepts Casaubon's offer of marriage, despite her sister's protests. Chettam is encouraged to turn his attention to her Dorothea's sister, Celia, who has developed an interest in him,” a new voice joins the room, a voice Damiano has rarely crossed paths with.

“Y/n, how nice of you to join us, need something?” Damiano turns to face his fellow TA. She is a bit older than him, further into her master's program, but she’s only assisting for credits whereas Damiano actually wants to teach the subject he’s grading papers for. Still, they have a mutual understanding of each other.

Y/n rubs her eyes, clearly having just woken up along with the class, “Uh, yeah, I need the uh, the social justice research papers from 9A, Heras forgot to give them to me, told me to grab them from you.”

Damiano furrows his brow, then opens the desk's drawers.

"9A, 9A, 9A- Ah, yes, here they are," he says, kindly handing them over to Y/n. She offers a smile and accepts them.

Their hands touch for a moment and Damiano feels her warm hands on his fingers. Her perfume smelled like an assortment of wild flowers and it always mesmirised him.

"Thanks love," she says, kissing his cheek. Damiano has frozen, and until he's back to earth, Y/n has left the room, only the smell of her gloss in the air.

He shakes his head, feeling his cheek to make sure there isn't any gloss left, and turns back to the board, scribbling the stated.

"Anyway, as Y/n clarified, she isn't interested in Sir James' advances and chooses the love of a 45-year old scholar, who, for the era was quite old," He writes out his notes on the board, being careful of the chalk dust falling.

"What about Dorothea's and Edward's marriage? What happens on their honeymoon?"

A student raises their hand and Damiano calls, "Lydia"

"When are you and Y/n going on a date?" Damiano sighs. "Not what I asked. Will?"

"I didn't have my hand up," Will complains, rubbing his eyes.

"I know, but I also know that you remember the storyline from your review last semester," Will shuffled higher in his seat, fixing his posture.

"They experience the first tensions in their marriage on their honeymoon in Rome, when she finds that Sir James has no interest in involving her in his intellectual pursuits, plus no real intention of having his copious academic notes published, which was her chief reason for marrying him,"

"Thank you Will," Damiano exhales, noting it down in his plan. "But when are you two going to go on a date?" Will asks, and Damiano, turns to face the students.

"Me and Y/n are not interested in dating. We are both doing our work. Now, can someone focus on the lesson in hand, please!"

"You say that with a lot of confidence for someone who froze up right in front of us," Lydia speaks again, and Damiano lets an annoyed whine slip out.

"Okay, let me clear this up. As much as I like teaching you guys, this has to stop. My love life- or lack thereof- isn't to be discussed in class. Can we go back to the reading now?"

"Only if you ask Y/n out," another student chimes in and Damiano is really close to slamming his head on the desk.

"If you keep going like this I'll take away your first name privilleges," he says, taking off his glasses.

"Dami, come on! We saw how you looked at her when you handed her the papers. You have to!" Will replies, and Damiano knows he is losing this fight.

"Okay, I will. You have my word" he gives in, knowing full well he doesn't owe them anything.

"Now, someone! Middlemarch!"

_________

how had i written that so well???????? idk (i changed the names btw, so it made for a nice blurb thing)

ONLY THE SMELL OF HER GLOSS IN THE AIR that's cute i liked it 🥺 and he'd be the coolest prof ever

[misskatebishop]

I need to get it off my chest because I don't wanna dwell on it for too long, and I've been thinking about it all day. I'm always polite to everyone here. Always. Even when I ask something on anonymous, I'm extremely polite.

I've never sent hate to anyone, but I've received a lot of hate lately. I got an ask last week, which I don't give a damn. People had called me scrum, bitch, and even racist for no reason at all. Look, I'm Brazilian and I write in English because I like it. I enjoy writing in this language, and some people are really rude in AO3 comments when they point out a mistake. I let pretty clear in all my stories that I'm not a native and that they might find mistakes, if you don't like grammar or spelling mistakes, then don't fucking read it.

And I'm saying this even though I've found mistakes in British, Canadian, and American works here on Tumblr and AO3 because everyone makes mistakes, natives most of the time because they are not aware of the grammar rules, they just know how to use it because they grew up listening to it. Look, I'm saying this because I've had American, French, and German people in my university asking me about my own language, Portuguese, and most of the time I didn't know how to answer them. I do speak Portuguese fluently because I grew up listening to it, but I don't know its grammar rules.

Back to the main subject, if you don't like a ship that I write (stony/stucky/buckytony/buckynat) then don't read it either. It's tagged properly, if you click it's your responsibility, no one is obliging you to read it. It's easy. Don't like don't read it.

When I read a fic and I don't like it, I don't come here on Tumblr and complain about X pairing or I send hate comments or 'asks' to the authors. I just close my tab and go on with my life, because even though I don't like it, I'm sure there will be people out there that will enjoy the story. And I'm sure that the author enjoys it too.

So, I go another hate comment today, and I honestly don't give a fuck about it. I'm just posting it because I think people forget that there's another human being behind the screens. I might not care, but other authors might, and I've seen people that stopped writing because of that.

Here's the comment:

It's none of this person's business if I'm a virgin or not, but they assumed that I was because I wrote romantic smut? Like, what the fuck, dude? That's just my writing style, and I enjoy the way it's written. Plus, it's a work of fiction, if I was interested in writing about real life, I'd be working on documentaries and not fiction.

That's not a problem. What really, really shocked me was the poor choice of words. As I said I'm polite here and irl. I get completely shocked with some songs that play in my neighborhood, let alone this sort of comment. I have to admit that this was the most shocking for me.

Also, am I the only one who felt a tingle of homophobia in these words? I've read a post here on Tumblr about how some people think that gay sex is shameful and it shouldn't be because there's beauty in all types of sex. I'm serious.

I'd like to remark the word FANFICTION. Let's make a morphologic analysis here.

Definition of FAN

a person who has a strong interest in or admiration for a particular person or thing.

late 19th century (originally US): abbreviation of fanatic.

Definition of FICTION

literature in the form of prose, especially short stories and novels, that describes imaginary events and people.

invention or fabrication as opposed to fact.

a belief or statement that is false, but that is often held to be true because it is expedient to do so.

It's clear what's my interest on this fandom. As well as the word Fiction makes it clear that we are talking about something not real because the deal with fiction is not to retreat things how they really are.

Do you guys believe that literature would be so good if it portraits the world as it really is? If the words weren't carefully chosen and placed to turn something beautiful? If poets and writers took the world literally as it was, we wouldn't have so many beautiful pieces of history nowadays.

I don't wanna read about the world I live in because it's a shitty world. I wanna read about a world turned beautiful by an ensemble of words chosen carefully to make it magic. I wanna be a dreamer. I wanna read about sex and enjoy what I'm reading because the author put so much effort into it. They don't have to be romantic, but if they don't touch me, then they are worth nothing.

[mooniefics]

in the grand scheme of things [ 3 ]

pairings : zeke jaeger / reader, referenced eren jaeger / reader

word count : 5.5k

tags : unhealthy relationships, relationship discussions, implied cheating, drinking, break ups, mutual infidelity, dubious morality, love triangles

warning : descriptions of alcohol and drug use

summary : you and eren hadn't been doing the best these past few months, and no one that you knew seemed to have any answers for you, or pointers in the right direction. who better to offer you some sound, insightful relationship advice than his older brother. or so you thought.

— originally posted 1 / 28 / 21 on ao3 —

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sasha  3:47 pm hey u down to party tonight?? jean told connie he could get us into another one of the azo parties again

you sighed at the sight of the notifications on your phone from its place on the passenger's seat, pensively drumming your fingers on your steering wheel. the most recent party of the most popular fraternity chapter on your campus you'd attended had been the last party you'd subjected yourself to attending—the halloween party where you'd gotten ditched out and subsequently cheated on. though you could admit that it had been fun in the moment, especially when you had caught the struggle between sasha and historia when she saw your roommate snap a picture of her kissing the standoffish sophomore that always helped her with her english lit homework, ymir, rather than the fraternity guy she was meant to be with.

the memory of that night, at least the time before you'd realized your boyfriend and his annoyingly attractive best friend were nowhere to be found, made you consider. classes did start back up next week, and the most eventful thing you'd done over the break was your quaint little family get-together for new year's eve—and your two rendezvous with zeke, meetings that you were slowly beginning to feel more and more skeptical about as time went on—and you were sure that your second semester would drown you in work just as much—if not more—than you'd had in your first semester. so as soon as you came to a stop at a red light, you picked your phone up to shoot her back a message, laughing to yourself when she replied instantly.

               you  3:51 pm party on a wednesday?                            really?

sasha   3:51 pm come onnnn please??? i heard nikos gonna be there! ur rlly gonna make me go all alone??

so that was why she wanted to go, to see the foreign culinary major that somehow always managed to send her back to the dorm with a large plate of food and a blinding smile plastered on her face for at least the next hour. you were honestly surprised that they hadn't gotten together yet, considering how many common interests they'd shared.

a pleasant thought suddenly popped into your head, the thought that she was probably asking you because mikasa had already declined, meaning that she wouldn't be in attendance. armin was out in turkey with eren, ensuring his absence. that fact made you feel a bit less anxious about accepting sasha's invitation. you could catch up with the friends you'd been unable to see while you were off-campus—or too swamped with work to be able to reach out to—let loose one last time before you were trapped back in the monotonous cycle of working, sleeping, crying, and eating for the next couple months until spring break. your mind had been made up.

                          you  3:52 pm    fine. i'll go as moral support. but no promises u won't have  to babysit after you've had ur                          fun with nikolo  this break has been rough for                                       me lol

sasha  3:53 pm oh god my i loveyou so much already picking out our outfits

you chuckled to yourself, slipping your phone into the cupholder as the brake lights of the car in front of you flashed off and you eased your foot onto the gas. you made it back to the dorm relatively quickly, sasha more than elated to see you even though you didn't have any food to bring back for her. and just as her text message had read, she'd already laid out one of your nicer dresses and a set of heels that didn't absolutely kill your feet by the end of the night by your bed, digging through the closet with a pile of discarded clothes growing on the floor.

"thanks sash," you giggled, "but don't you think it's a little to be getting ready? what time's the party?"

"connie told me seven-thirty, but jean said for us to come an hour later so we aren't the only ones there." she spoke over her shoulder, huffing as she tossed another piece of clothing aside, "but i wanna look good! i'm gonna hop in the shower as soon as i find the right thing to wear."

holding out your dress before you, you frowned. it was simple, black and made of a sheer, clingy material with lace accents decorating the low neckline, thin straps that bared the entirety of your shoulders and a modest amount of cleavage. it was one of your favorites, but the half-healed bruises scattered across the skin that would be exposed by it wasn't ideal.

"oh, don't forget to take a cheap coat that you don't mind forgetting. it's kinda chilly out, and i always end up losing track of mine during the night."

you let out a breath of relief, remembering that covering up a bit more would be weather appropriate. "yeah, i'll wear a long-sleeved undershirt and something light on top." perfect.

you waited until sasha had gathered her toiletries and scurried off to the nearest bathroom to change clothes, feeling your face heat up at the thought of zeke, the initial deep pigmentation having faded out over the last two days but still a very visible shade of faint red. you were fully dressed upon your roommate's return, earning an excited slew of compliments from her as she wrapped up her hair in a towel and settled down beside you to get started on her makeup.

you were actually grateful for how early she'd insisted on getting ready considering how long she'd agonized over her eyeliner, or how many times she'd applied and removed her lashes, complaining that "something was off" or "it just didn't look right". your suggested time of arrival came in no time at all, and by then sasha was more than eager to start rushing you despite the pace she'd been moving at earlier.

"hurry!! if niko brings food, i don't wanna get there by the time it's all gone!" she whined, jiggling the doorknob to your room impatiently, "for the thanksgiving party, he brought a charcuterie board with all these nice cheeses on it and it was so good, he looked so happy watching me eat it, it was so cute!"

you chuckled softly at her enthusiasm, shoving the last of your things into your clutch, zipping up your phone in the small inner pocket to insure that you didn't drop it and forget on the floor of someone's house this time. "i'm sure that even if we got there late, he'd set aside plenty of food for you."

the walk to the fraternity's designated house was made much shorter by sasha's insistence, practically dragging you along by the wrist the whole way at a near jog. you couldn't deny that you were feeling a bit nervous about the whole ordeal, knowing that you would have sasha, connie, and jean at the very least, but unaware as to what you would really do besides mill around. at the halloween party, you'd been able to play the variety of drinking games that had been set out for the guests with eren and his friends, but now you weren't entirely sure who to stick to for the majority of the night.

you didn't want to bother jean or connie after they'd gotten secured you an invite, and you were sure that sasha was expecting to be able to spend some time alone with the guy she'd came to see in the first place, meaning you'd have to spend a majority of the night alone, or the unfavorable option of mingling with unfamiliar people. but you realized that was a pill you'd have to swallow as you approached the steps of the house, nearly tripping up over your feet from the speed that sasha was hauling you along at, watching her furiously knock at the door.

there were people wandering about in the yard, some on their phones, most likely waiting for their own friends to arrive, and a smoky stench of something that definitely wasn't just tobacco wafting from the group of men camped out on the porch murmuring amongst each other. you could hear the volume of the music inside the house, almost able to feel it thrumming across the floor if you focused enough.

"thomas!" she exclaimed at the sight of a younger-looking blonde boy when the door opened, whose existence you honestly had no idea about until just now, grinning so broadly it made your own cheeks hurt for her, "jean invited us!"

"oh, come right in." he beamed right back, calling loudly over his shoulder, "yo, jean, your friends are here!"

the inside of the house looked just as you expected, already crowded to max capacity, jean having to maneuver past the throng of people gathered near the front to approach the two of you. "damn, i feel like i haven't seen you in forever." he did his best to speak over the music, wrapping you up in a friendly squeeze, "glad to see you could finally make it." he turned to sasha. "niko's already in the kitchen, by the way. asked when you were coming just a few minutes ago."

sasha's face lit up with glee, turning to you, silently asking for permission to go off on her own as if you could ever deny her and her overly-eager expression. "go get 'em, tiger." you smiled, giving her a few pats on her shoulder to send her off on her way, watching her disappear into the crowd in record time.

but before apprehension of her absence could set in, you felt jean's arm sling around your shoulder, pulling you into his side. "c'mon, you didn't think i was gonna ditch out and let you hang alone all night?" you giggled, turning your head up to look at him properly for the first time.

you'd first met jean in your statistics class, an unfortunate requirement for your major of choice, and initially bonded over your mutual connection through sasha. they'd been good friends in high school, and you'd just moved into a room for at least the next year with her, so you figured it'd do you well to have someone who could get you in her good graces in the event that you two didn't get along. but, thankfully, you two were just fine on your own, and sasha and jean became your first friends outside of the small group you and eren shared.

the only real conflict of interest between the two of you seemed to be your aforementioned boyfriend, and you couldn't really be upset at him for that. eren could be difficult to get along with even at the best of times, he wasn't a terrible person—at least before he'd cheated—but he wasn't exactly the most friendly either.

"is this piercing new?" you asked, reaching up to brush your thumb over the small earring hugging the shell of jean's ear.

"yeah, got it for new year's. pretty hot, right?" you snorted, earning a grin from him, "by the way, if you need to use the bathroom just tell me, the one on the main floor is fucking filthy. and also probably has no toilet paper."

"will do." you could feel the tension ebbing away in his company, at least when you ignored the annoyed glances other girls were sending your way when they noticed his arm around you, "so, what's on the menu for tonight?"

"well, we probably have every kind of alcohol known to man," he said, leaning down to speak into your ear as he began to guide you through the crowded first floor, "beer kegs are out back, junk food and all the inexpensive shit is in the kitchen." he stopped at the opening to a hallway, smile evident in his voice. "but i'm feeling pretty generous tonight, so if you want some of the good stuff we have stashed, just say the word."

"wow, such a gentleman. do you say that to every girl that comes in?" you playfully replied, thankfully far enough away from the music now that you didn't have to talk at nearly a shout.

"only the ones i like." he added a terribly over-exaggerated wink, earning another small laugh from you, "so, what'll it be? vodka, tequila, or triple sec?"

you blinked up at him. "that's it? when you said 'good stuff', i imagined a little more variety."

"beggars can't be choosers, sweetheart. and anyways we're a frat, not a restaurant, so either take your pick or go enjoy some cheap wine while you watch nikolo and sasha drool over each other."

you rolled your eyes, feigning anger in the face of his attitude, huffing out your answer. "surprise me then, frat boy."

"good answer." he said with a grin, "wait here."

he disappeared down the hall, leaving you to stare in silence at the wall before you and listen to the barely muffled sounds of the party going on just a few meters away. you opened up your clutch to fish out your phone, opening it to find your text conversation still open, catching a glimpse of connie's name. you felt a little guilty that you'd almost forgotten about his expected presence, seeing as he had messaged you and you hadn't heard anything from sasha or jean yet. you decided to shoot him a quick text letting him know that you and sasha had arrived, not surprised when he didn't respond as quickly as he usually did, knowing that he was already wrapped up in getting high out of his mind somewhere here or doing so elsewhere.

you opted to kill time tapping through your feed, making it a point to quickly scroll past any posts with armin's handle attached to them. the thought of eren having fun halfway across the world was both pleasant and disheartening at the same time. you felt stupid for still clinging on to the second thoughts about ending things the second he got back. sure, all the dots connected suspiciously well to create a picture that led to the clear conclusion of cheating, but eren wasn't good at hiding things. you remembered the time in your junior year when he'd barely been able to keep your surprise party that your friends had organized you a secret before one of them slipped up about it and exonerated him from blame, and you couldn't help but ask yourself if he was really capable of hiding such a terrible deed when he couldn't even conceal the harmless types of secrets from you.

the more confrontational part of you said that that was ages ago, that both you and him had changed so much since your time in high school, and maybe one of those changes was what made him put so much distance between the two of you these last months rather than hang around you and risk airing out his dirty laundry. you knew you should be angry with him, you would be more than right to be angry with him, but you force yourself to stop clinging to the simpler times, the days when he'd look at you like you'd put the stars in the sky and said all he ever wanted to do was be around you. you couldn't believe how much had changed in so little time.

"ta-da!" jean's voice interrupted your self-pity, a tall plastic cup suddenly occupying your vision, "long island iced tea for the lady. with a straw."

"christ, jean, are you trying to kill me?" you guffawed, taking the cup from him anyways, "my first real party in months and this is what you start me off with?"

"at least give it a try! after i took all that time to make it for you.." he furrowed his brows at you, only relaxing after you took a tentative sip. it was surprisingly not as strong as you thought it would be, a little on the sweeter side, but it served as a good distraction for the burn of five different alcohols sliding down your throat. "pretty good, isn't it?"

"meh. five out of ten." you snarked, giggling around the straw between your lips.

"typical," he lamented, clutching his hands over his heart, "all you and sasha ever do is use me."

"don't lie to yourself, jean. you love us."

you didn't know if it was the dim lighting casting a shadow over his face, but you could swear that you saw his cheeks flush at your assertion. "anyways.. speaking of love, you still dating that asshole? eric?"

"eren." you corrected, laughing at the error, "and, well, it's complicated."

"complicated? then i'm assuming he fucked up big time, considering he's not even here with you this time around."

you took a long sip of your drink, fiddling with the bendy part of your straw, the thought of his infidelity weighing heavily on your heart. "well he'd probably be here if he wasn't out of town, he's been planning to take his trip for a while now.."

jean shot you a displeased look. "i seriously don't know how you put up with that guy, you're selling yourself short honestly. planning on breaking up with him anytime soon?"

you cast your gaze to the floor, thankful that the warmth of the alcohol in your stomach was helping to ease the cool hollowness settling deep into your chest. "oh hush. you don't even know the whole story, jean."

"well i know enough. if you're in the market for any new guys, i'll scout out someone nice for you." you scoffed at his offer, but didn't outright deny it either, unable to help smiling along with him when he smirked and nodded over to the party in the other room, "now, come play me in beer pong, then you'll really have something to complain about."

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zeke could confidently say that his night had been utterly unremarkable.

another quiet day spent working at the library, where he'd actually glanced at the door more times than he was willing to admit with the hope that it would be you walking in. he'd actually been quite tempted to message you, to ask what you were doing, if you had anywhere between two and three so that maybe he could see you, but he'd ultimately decided against it. he couldn't quite figure out the exact cause of his newly-found infatuation with you, but the rationality of it didn't concern him as much as it probably should've, he was simply pleased to relive the very recent memories of your encounters together and anticipate your next meeting—at least until his younger brother returned.

eren had attempted to goad a reaction out of him with an assortment of unsavory texts calling him just about every name in the book, a constant stream of questions asking why he did it, or what he'd done to deserve such a thing, and even a few desperate pleas begging him to say that it wasn't really you. of course, he'd ignored all of them, and he wondered if eren was trying to contact you as well, knowing that you wouldn't be able to see the messages even if that was the case, though still curious nonetheless.

but for the moment, he was lounging at his usual downtown bar, seated in a booth beside reiner and across from porco at their rescheduled night out, since both marcel and porco were unable to make it yesterday, the latter sulking after his noisy attempt to flag down the waitress ended in failure.

"is marcel actually gonna make it tonight?" reiner asked, plucking a stick of celery from the appetizer platter in the middle of the table.

"no clue." porco replied, sipping his mojito, "said he got caught up at work again, so either the let down text is gonna come any minute now, or he's gonna show up for an hour and then disappear."

zeke chuckled. "post-marriage life sure is tough, i guess."

"you can say that again. he's always calling me, freaking about the idea of kids and his mortgage and stuff that i didn't even think about until he complained about it, scary shit."

"you say that like you're not two years away from being his age."

porco began what was sure to be one of his smart-ass replies, but the waitress had finally approached their booth, hiding her annoyance with his friend with a forced smile as she took the orders for their entrées. zeke pulled his phone from the back pocket of his jeans when he felt it buzz, feeling the slightest hint of disappointment by the fact that it wasn't you.

"who is it? your new girlfriend?" reiner grumbled, smirking when porco shot up in his seat.

"girlfriend?!" he exclaimed far too loudly.

"yup. zeke didn't tell you he's dating a high-schooler?"

so much for "your business", zeke thought to himself. "oh, fuck off. she's in college." he frowned at his roommate, only met with another tired expression of disappointment.

"just barely." reiner turned back to the man across the table, "it's one of his brother's ex-girlfriends too."

porco stared at him incredulously, eyes wide and judgmental, falling back against the cushion of the seat with a low whistle. "shit zeke.. that's kinda fucked up, don't you think?" he seemed uncomfortable by the unexpected revelation, "you're almost thirty and you're screwing around with someone who's probably not even twenty? is this an afraid-of-getting-old thing? mid-life crisis??"

"she's an adult, she can make her own choices." zeke didn't appreciate the sudden scrutiny, finishing off his old fashioned in the hopes that the bourbon would wash away the self-conscious feeling settling unpleasantly in his gut, "not my fault that her choice happens to be wanting to be around me rather than the guys her age."

"what ever happened to you and pieck? she's hot—"

"and actually over the legal drinking age."

both porco and zeke pointedly ignored reiner's interaction as the former continued. "—i thought it was working out between you two.. what happened?"

zeke shrugged. "just wasn't the right fit for me. but you liked her, didn't you? before we had our thing." he looked up at his friend, forcing a casual grin, "maybe you could give that shot now."

he felt a bit more at ease seeing porco's ears and cheeks flush red, now fiddling with the lime garnish on the rim of his glass. "we still talk here and there.. i don't really know much about what she's up to these days."

before he could answer with more words of encouragement that detracted from the previous, morally-incriminating topic, his phone began to vibrate, and he felt his heart leap into his throat at the sight of your name on the screen. "sorry, gotta take this."

he tugged on his jacket and slid out of the booth, ignoring reiner's chastising glance and porco's bewildered look, passing the waitress who was now carrying a platter with their food and refills on his way out. the cool night breeze was refreshing in comparison to the awkward, almost cramped atmosphere that had developed over their discussion, his breath coming is foggy puffs in the chilled, january air as he pressed the answer button. immediately upon raising the phone to his ear, he was met with a blurred assortment of background noise, able to discern the muffled sound of music and the sound of footsteps outside of whatever room you were in.

"hello?"

"oh, zeke, you answered!!" he could hear in your voice that you were clearly intoxicated, much more than you had been when you were at his house, words stringing together and ending syllables unnecessarily drawn out.

he felt uncharacteristically worried at the realization that you were at a party, one that sounded quite large and crowded, most likely crawling with unsavory individuals that he knew prowled around those sorts of events when he himself was in college. "are you alright? where are you right now? do you need me to pick you up?"

zeke was already digging around in his coat pocket to check if he had his keys, more than prepared to take off without his meal or saying goodbye to his friends inside. "'m at a party on campus, 's okay. in the bathroom. just thinking."

zeke didn't feel eased at all at the sound of loud knocking coming from somewhere, hearing you becoming distant for a moment as you presumably pulled the phone away from your ear to call out that the bathroom was occupied. there was shuffling on the other line, then silence for a short moment. "can i ask you something?"

zeke frowned. the idea of not being able to know who was monitoring you in this state wasn't sitting well with him. "go ahead."

"but don't call me stupid, ok? i already know it's a stupid question, but i still wanna ask it."

"there's no such thing as stupid questions." he assured you, ignoring the buzz of a text notification, most likely porco or reiner telling him to come back in before the burger he ordered got cold.

"do i really have to break up with eren?"

zeke felt something odd flicker in his chest, that unfamiliar feeling he'd felt when he caught you staring at you and his brother's one-sided chat logs, but yet the affirmative answer he thought he would be able to give with no problem sat on the tip of his tongue, undelivered. he thought back to that face reiner had made when he told him who you were, and porco's hesitant words trying to rationalize his actions but ultimately failing to do so.

zeke didn't understand why he felt so conflicted all of a sudden. this was meant to be a simple ordeal, one where he got what he needed to teach eren a lesson and moved on with his life. but now here he was, concerned about your whereabouts, focusing hard enough on your muddled words that he managed to catch the wobble in your voice that betrayed your own state of emotional unrest. he realized a moment too late that he hadn't said anything, hearing a small sniffle on your end before we began speaking.

"god, i can't believe i said that out loud, you must really think i'm dumb r'now, but.. i just can't let go of what we had." he was sure that you were crying now. "i keep thinking about what you said, an' you're right. he's been an ass to me, he practically ignored me for, like, three months, probably fuckin' cheated on me with his hot best friend, so i can't understand why i just wanna keep trying to fix things... and its so confusing 'cause everyone just keeps telling me to enjoy myself an' have fun, but i have no idea what i even want anymore, and i don't even know what we are right now and i can't fuckin' believe i cheated on my boyfriend with his fuckin' older brother and i don't know what i'd ever do if he found out."

by the end of it, you were letting out small, hiccuped sobs, breath fast and uneven just as it had been the night he'd invited you over. he honestly didn't know what to say, listening to you cry, staring at the steam of his breath as it dissipated out into the night. you were a good person, someone who was undeserving of such treatment from either him or eren, but it was simply an unfortunate coincidence that you had been caught in the fray.

he took a deep breath and gathered his thoughts, preparing to deliver an affirmation similar to the one he'd given you a few days ago when you first laid all your relationship troubles out on the table, but there was a rapid, more insistent knocking at the bathroom door on your end. he could hear a female voice calling out your name, and the jiggling of the door knob.

"hold on," you paused, sniffling, "it's my roommate."

you steadied yourself enough to say that, tossing the phone somewhere before he heard the sound of the door unlocking. "there you are!! are you seriously wasted already? it's only, like, eleven?! why are you crying???" your roommate sounded tipsy, but nowhere near as intoxicated as you currently were, which eased zeke's initial worry, "jean! can you c'mere for a sec! wait, were you calling someone?"

there was a brief pause, and zeke could practically see your tiny nod and teary eyes in his head, then heels clicking over tile and the sound of the phone being lifted, followed by a hurried, "hey, this is her roommate! she's fine, gotta go!"

then silence, just him and the faint noise coming from inside the bar behind him. he didn't know what to think. from the sounds of it, it seemed like your friends were taking care of you for the time being, friends who names he vaguely remembered you speaking of when you'd been detailing your time at the halloween party—people that were unfamiliar to him, people he wasn't sure that he could trust. and a small part of him, a tiny voice at the back of his head, scoffed at his flimsy mask of worry that barely hid the true emotion, his possessive nature, driving his desire to go pick you up and bring you back to the apartment to take care of so you'd have to be there with him another morning with your thankful gazes and blunt, half-awake words.

he knew he was in no place to begin laying judgement at these unknown people in your life considering what he'd done, but it was an innate sort of feeling, the thought that always clouded his mind when he laid eyes on people that were younger than him, that he knew more than them, that somehow he would always be above them in an invisible hierarchy. that same feeling that he felt when he found himself looking down at you.

"zeke?" a warm, friendly voice broke him out of his thoughts, his eyes turning up from the ground to find a tired-looking marcel standing before him, "what are you doing out here by yourself?"

"smoke break." the lie slipped between his lips before he even thought of the fact that there was no cigarette between his fingers, no scent of smoke in the air or clinging to his clothes, "glad you could make it, everyone's inside. pretty sure porco already ordered you something."

but instead of immediately heading inside for zeke to come after him, marcel stood for a moment, lips drawing back and eyebrows knitting into a concerned expression. "is everything okay?"

zeke thought for a moment, giving a non-committal shrug in response.

"still having family troubles?"

despite having been quite fixated on his negative feelings revolving his own younger brother for the last few days, zeke had almost pushed out a majority of the sordid details of the entire situation out of his head, which now seemed to all flood back with such a short, simple question.

"you could say that." zeke scratched the back of his neck, now wishing he'd actually had a cigarette to take his mind off of all these turbulent thoughts, "all the arguing and shit subsided already, but..."

"anything from your dad?" marcel's voice was almost tentative asking that, frowning when zeke said nothing, "sorry.. didn't mean to be insensitive about it."

"it's not insensitive. just," he swallowed, tucking his phone back into his pocket and reaching out to push open the bar door, a silent, less embarrassing way to signal that he no longer wanted to talk about it anymore, "just kind of fresh. that's all."

they both stood in silence for a moment, marcel's eyes wandering his face, features expressing a clear concern, but thankfully, he didn't push the issue any further, simply following him inside like zeke wished he would've done minutes earlier to save him the trouble, proceeding to the booth housing their friends. the conversation didn't wander back to the topic of him and his morally dubious relations nor his current familial situation, much to his relief, making it much easier for him to just allow the conversation to flow around him, finding himself not having much of an appetite or desire to speak much with so much on his mind.

for a moment, zeke wondered to himself if this was a punishment from the universe, feeling so downtrodden on what was usually one of his more enjoyable nights in the week. not to say that they were always amazing to be around, but spending time with porco, reiner, marcel, and sometimes bertholdt made up most of the meaningful social interactions he had, and to have lost out on it today of all days just seemed like some odd form of karmic justice as a result of him behaving so selfishly.

but he held out for the rest of the evening anyways, going through more drinks that he probably should've, finding easier to tune in to porco and reiner's usual bickering, marcel's attempts to quell them, the ambient sound of bustling waiters and clinking glasses and plates to bury down any thought of you or his family or what was to come at the end of the week, the consequences with much more magnitude in his life than an just an unpleasant night out.

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previous chapter⥽

[softholand]

gingerbread kisses - t.h

pairing: tom holland x youtuber!reader

warnings: a lot of dialogue and some good old festive fluff

words: 2.5k

a/n: this is like a part two of my youtuber!reader series, it can also be read on it’s one but if you haven’t read chocolate kisses yet, you can do it here i really hope you guys enjoy it and please let me know what you think!! ✨

It was another normal workday at your flat, you had all your lights and camera set in your living room, ready to start filming. Today’s video was going to be a Q&A with a special guest, Tom Holland.

It was expected that your baking video with him was going to be one of the most successful ones, but you weren’t expecting the number of views that, to this day, a whole month later, kept coming.

With so many comments almost begging you to bring him to your channel again, you finally gave in and asked him to do a Q&A with you, but since it was the end of the year and Christmas was just around the corner, you decided that, while you answered your viewer's questions, you two could build gingerbread houses.

“Tom, where are you? I’m about to start this without you!” You shouted from the living room floor, where you were seated. “I’m coming, I just had to get something before,” Tom answered, appearing in front of you, wearing a ridiculously ugly Christmas jumper, making you burst out laughing.

“Oh my God! Where did you get that?” You asked, trying to recover from your fit of laughing. “Oh, don’t worry, darling! There’s one for you too!” He stated, taking an identical jumper from behind him.

“You’re not letting me get out of this, are you?” You questioned, sighing when you saw him shake his head. Once you took your (his) hoodie out, replacing it with the ugly sweater, you were finally ready to start recording.

“Hi guys, welcome back to another video! This week we have a special guest that you guys have been asking since our last video together.” You said, giving Tom time to sit next to you. “It’s Tom!”

“It’s me!” He exclaimed, smiling at the camera. “This time we’re not baking anything but, since Christmas is almost here, I thought it was a good idea for us to build some gingerbread houses!” You said, pointing to the kits you had bought on your last trip to the grocery store.

“It’s been so long since I’ve done this!” Tom smiled, clearly excited to start. “But, instead of just sitting here, I asked you guys on Instagram to send some questions so we could answer while doing our houses. What do you think?” You questioned, looking at him.

“Dangerous… but fun!” He said, making you laugh. “So, we have the Christmas tree with the lights on, it’s starting to snow outside, I’ve made us some hot chocolate and of course, we cannot forget our ugly sweaters, courtesy of Tom.” You grinned.

“You’re welcome!” He praised, making you roll your eyes. “I’d said we’re ready to start.” You announced, to which he gave you two thumbs-ups.

Once you had taken the house out of its package, you laid all the biscuit parts in front of you, Tom doing the same beside you.

“So, the first question is “What’s your best/worst memory together?” You let them know while putting the baking glue on your biscuit. “Do you wanna start?” Tom offered, to which you shrugged. “It’s okay, you can go first.” You said, seeing that he already had the answer at the tip of his tongue.

“Best memory is your twentieth birthday party.” He stated, without taking his eyes out of his project. “Why?” You asked, also concentrating on building the house.

“C’mon, y/n! You know why!” Tom finally looked up, making kissy lips to you. “Tom! It’s supposed to be a surprise for the end of the video!” You whined, earning a chuckle from him. “Okay, fine! I’ll behave!” He said, making you laugh this time.

“I think my favorite memory of us is at the Far From Home premiere party! We had so much fun!” Tom declared, making you smile. “Yeah, that was nice!” You agreed, thinking about your favorite memory with Tom. “Mine is probably when we went to New York, I loved that trip!” You confessed, remembering all the crazy things you and Tom did back then.

“Yeah, that was a good one!” Tom agreed, smiling at you. “Worst one has to be the time paparazzi locked us outside of that restaurant. It was awful, I honestly thought I was gonna die that day.” You remembered, feeling chills cover your body. “Yeah, same!” The boy next to you answered, clearly feeling down just thinking about that event, so you made sure to quickly change the subject and ask the next question.

“So, the next question is, what was your best trip?” You asked, motioning for Tom to go first. “Mine has to be Bali, I loved that place and I’m dying to go back.” He stated. “Tell me about it, I was so jealous when you guys went there!” You whined, remembering the photos he kept texting you. “What about you, y/n?”

“Oh, 100% Christmas in New York!” You told him, without even having to think. “It was magical!” You smiled, remembering the trip like it was yesterday.

“Nice! I never spent Christmas in New York!” Tom commented, before going for the next question. “What’s the other Starbucks order?” He asked, taking a sip of his hot chocolate.

“Yours is tea!” You said, rolling your eyes. “Hey, I drink coffee too!” Tom uttered. “Rarely! Most of the time is Chai Latte or a Royal English Breakfast Tea.” You stated and of course, Tom had to agree.

“Yeah, you’re right! I should try more of their stuff. But you also always get the same, White Chocolate Mocha or Peppermint Hot Cocoa at this time of the year.” Tom listed, making you smile knowing that he knew your drink orders.

“But it’s just soooo good! I can’t help it!” Tom chuckled, before passing your phone back to you for the next question. “That’s a good one, who’s the messier one?” You questioned. “I don’t even think I have to answer this, you guys realized that from our last video together!” You declared, making you both laugh.

“Ok, I’ll give you this one. I’m pretty messy! But I’m trying to get better at it, I promise!” Tom added, to which you chuckled. “My house is built, now I just have to decorate!” You announced, making Tom gasp by your side. “What?! There’s no way! I’m still trying to make these walls stick together.” He whined, making you chuckle.

“That’s because you’re not using enough glue, look, you have to put a straight line across the whole biscuit, otherwise it won’t stick.” You told him, showing exactly how to do it. “But the glue it’s showing on the other side.” He reasoned. “It doesn’t matter, Tom! We’ll just make it look like snow. See?” You pointed to your own house and he nodded, going back to work, focused on finishing it so he could start decorating.

“Next question, what’s the most useless talent you have?” Tom asked, already laughing. “Mine is really stupid but I can put my feet on top of my head,” Tom stated, demonstrating exactly what he was saying, almost knocking everything that was on the table in front of you off.

“That’s not a talent, you’re just flexible.” You rolled your eyes, to which he laughed. “You’re only saying this because you’re jealous you can’t do it.” He smirked, clearly trying to get on your nerves. “Shut up, I have a much better one, I can lick my elbow.” You said, also showing your completely useless talent. “That’s… weirdly impressive.” Tom expressed making you both laugh.

When Tom was finally done building his house, he joined you and started to decorate. You told him and your viewers that you were going for more of a white Christmas theme, while Tom expressed his desire to make the house as colorful as possible.

“Tom, I think the next question is for you.” You gave him a look, before continuing. “What is the dumbest way you’ve been injured?” He gasped, putting one of his hands over his chest while you laughed. “Why are you coming for me today?” The brown-haired boy asked, pretending to be offended.

“I’m sorry, but how many times have you broken your nose while filming?” You asked once you had stopped laughing. “Three, actually, two and a half, the last one wasn’t a complete fracture.” He explained, trying to not make a fool out of himself.

“Well, I’ve never injured myself badly, just some paper cuts, which for me it’s very dumb.” You mentioned. “See? Your answer is dumber than mine and still, I get the title.” Tom shook his head, making you laugh. “So, taking a break from the questions, what are you doing with your house?” You questioned, taking a moment to observe his work.

“I’m gluing some gummies on the roof.” He exclaimed, putting the icing on the sugar-coated candy before sticking it on the house. “And you?” Tom asked, stopping his movements to look at yours.

“I’m putting shredded coconut on the roof and a little bit on the floor, to make it look more like snow.” You smiled, happy with what you had done so far. “Uhh, bougie!” Tom uttered, sticking his tongue out.

“Shut up! Okay, question number… I don’t even know what number we are, so… weird habits of each other? Oh my God, Tom makes SO much noise to eat, it’s ridiculous!” You blurted, to which he immediately complained. “I do not!” He exclaimed. “Yes, you do!”

“You never said that to me!” You laughed at Tom defending himself. “I have told you, at least, a hundred times!” You stated. “Well, at least I have control of my own body, you can’t stop bouncing your leg for literally two seconds.” He exclaimed.

“That’s because I have anxiety and you know that! I’m always moving a part of my body!” You practically yelled. “Still annoying!” Tom said. “Well, I can’t help it!” You interjected. “Neither do I!” He replied. “Next question?” You asked. “Please!” He shot back, making you both burst out laughing.

Once you stopped, Tom took your phone and asked the next question. “Do you have nicknames for each other?” He smirked, making you panic. “Hey, you said you’d behave!” You warned, pointing a finger at him. “I will, promise!” He told you, but that didn’t stop you from being nervous about his answer.

“I sometimes call her cherry, because she can do that trick with the cherry stem, it’s unbelievable!” He smirked, making you blush. “That’s actually pretty easy to do!” You said, trying to make light of the situation. “Oh yeah, it’s totally easy to tie a knot with a cherry stem with your tongue. Super chill!” Tom added, without taking that stupid smirk out of his face.

“Stop it! I don’t think I have a nickname for you, I call you spider-boy sometimes but just to spite you.” You smiled, sticking your tongue out. If Tom wanted to play, you could join his little game.

“I wish I could tell them all the other names you call me in bed,” Tom whispered, making you almost choke on your hot chocolate. “Thomas!!!” You screamed, trying desperately to clean the mess you’ve made. “Fine…” He replied, taking a sip of his drink.

“Ok, since we are almost done with the houses, the second to last question is: If you could, what would you change about your first kiss?” You asked, immediately regretting choosing the question. “Oh, that’s cool! Let me see… no, I don’t think I’ll change anything about it, maybe the place. It was a little too crowded.” He replied, not even trying to hide his smirk.

“Really? That’s all you’d change?” You asked, giving him the chance to take back his answer. “Yep, that’s all! What about you, y/n?” You shook your head, feigning disappointment that he didn’t choose to make you his first kiss. “I’d change the person, you idiot!” You answered, throwing one of the icing packages at him.

“Hey, that hurt!” Tom protested, throwing it back at you. “Stop it! We have to finish these so we can end the video.” You warned, pointing an accusing finger at him. “Oh, I’m done!” He announced, showing off his finished gingerbread house with a very colorful roof, windows, and door. “Already? I still wanna do a garland on the door. I even bought special sprinkles for it.” You stated, rushing yourself. “Of course you did!” Tom mocked, to which you simply flipped him off.

Once you had also finished your house, you and Tom did a quick cleaning of the table, before going back to filming. “We’re back!” You said, to which Tom added. “And we’re finished!”

“I’m really happy, they turned out so pretty!” You beamed, looking at your finished works. “They did!” Tom agreed, smiling widely. “So… before we end this video, we do have a last question, one that was the most asked and that is: are you guys together?” You said, finally acknowledging the elephant in the room.

You and Tom shared some guilty looks before blurting it out together. “Yes!” Tom’s smile was so wide that it made you smile too. “Yes, guys! You were all right! Tom and I are in a relationship now and we are so happy to finally share this with all of you!” You grinned, looking at your boyfriend, that of course was looking back at you.

“Yeah, I feel like the luckiest guy in the world and I honestly couldn’t be happier,” Tom murmured, making you blush. “Stop it!” You smiled, now completely lost in his eyes. “I think you have to finish the video now, darling!” He joked, bringing you back to earth.

“Oh, yeah, right! So… that was everything for today’s video, I hope you guys enjoyed it! Don’t forget to give the video a thumbs up and subscribe to my channel! Please, let me know what you guys thought in the comments section down below and… I think that’s it. Do you wanna say something?” You asked, shifting your eyes to Tom. “Thank you for having me again and I hope to come back soon for another one!” He said, giving the camera an adorable little wave. “Bye guys! See you next week!” You cheered, getting up to stop the recording. “We did it!”

“Yay! Can I eat now?” Tom quipped, before smashing his house in half. “Thomas!!!!” You shouted, not believing what he had done. “What?! We’re not supposed to eat it?” He wondered, putting one of the cookie pieces in his mouth. “I mean, yeah, but not… like that!” You tried to reasoned, to which he scoffed.

“C’mon, you didn’t think I wasn’t going to make a mess, right?” He smirked, signing for you to come closer. And you did, sliding right in front of him, straddling his waist.

“You’re an idiot!” You teased, clasping your arms behind his head. “Hmm, c’mere!” Tom lifted your chin and there was nothing more to do other than kiss his lips, so you did, only this time, instead of chocolate, they tasted like gingerbread.

tagging some of my mutuals ✨ @stuckonspidey @definitely-not-black-cat @missnxthingg @bi-writes @uglypastels @screamholland @peeterparkr @wazzupmrstark @tomhollandthing @lauras-collection @tommybaholland @mrs-hollandstan @duskholland @allyz @hazinhoodies @hollandcreep @worldoftom @whatevsholland @geminiparkers