#that's a mic which I couldn't be bothered to draw

[thisiswheregeniuslies]

tried drawing more faces

Devon Ross, Crowley, Tim Minchin

they are kinda incomplete but I doubt I'm getting any further than this

[crimson-calligraphyx]

A/N: this chapter is a bit of a filler. sorry 😬

As I stood against the barricade, surrounded by hundreds of other people, my body was buzzing with anticipation of seeing the guys perform—or maybe it was the bass of the speakers playing music during intermission, I don't know. Either way, I was excited for this moment.

It dawned on me that after three-plus years of knowing the guys, this is the first time that I would be seeing them play somewhere other than when they practiced at home, which was just ludicrous. Noah didn't seem bothered by it, though, having never asked why I hadn't gone to any of their shows.

The lights suddenly go out and the crowd erupts as Folio makes his way across the back of the stage. He stands behind his drum set, waving his sticks and shouting, trying his best to hype up the crowd. He sits as Jolly saunters out to the right of the stage, stopping short and scanning the sea of people. He holds his hands out at waist height, palms up, folding his fingers to his palms, beckoning the crowd to cheer. And they do.

Everyone was already riled up as Nicholas took the left side of the stage, and yet the room still got louder the second Noah stepped onto the stage, front and center. He grips the mic on the stand with both hands, his eyes shut as the opening beat to their recently dropped single “THE DEATH OF PEACE OF MIND” vibrates through the building.

I was entranced by him more so than usual, feeling his words, feeling their music encase me as it filled the room. He sang so angelically and moved with such grace as the glow of the stage lights danced off his toned arms, drawing me in. The man in front of me was perfect in every way, shape, and form—at this very moment, I almost couldn’t believe that he was my husband.

We locked eyes as he crouched on the risers and leaned towards the crowd, the words coming out of his mouth causing heat to rise to my cheeks.

I miss the way you say my name The way you bend, the way you break Your makeup running down your face The way you fuck, the way you taste

He smirks as he says them and flashes me a wink, then crosses to the other side of the stage to carry on with his performance. I’m left with a tingle settling low in my stomach, being reminded of the way he held me against those tiled walls and fucked me senseless not even two hours ago. I’m left with the burning desire of doing it again, and again, and again—fuck, the way this man had this type of effect on me by simply looking at me was absurd.

“Oh my God, did you see that?! He winked at me!” The girl next to me started gushing to her friend, and I couldn’t help the snort that came out of me, paired with a shake of my head—if only she knew. I let her have her moment of screaming her head off, knowing that I'm the one who gets to go home to him. I'm his, and he made that abundantly clear with not only his actions but the ring on my finger.

I soaked in the performance as it went on, completely blown away by how he was able to manipulate the crowd. He was comfortable and confident in every move he made, and it was very evident by the smile he had on his face, just enjoying the moment for what it was. I loved seeing him like this; he's come a long way, and I was so very proud of him.

And I made that clear when I went back to the green room after the show, practically throwing myself on Noah. He was drenched in sweat, but it didn't stop me from wrapping my arms around his neck and pulling him in for a kiss. I felt his lips curl into a smile, hearing the chuckle emanate from his throat as he embraced me.

"I take it you enjoyed the show?" he asks, his chocolate eyes glimmering as he gazed at me. "I loved it. You guys were amazing—I'm so proud of you, so proud of the guys." I grinned at him, "Y'all worked so hard to be where you are now, and it's paid off. Did you hear the way the crowd screamed over you guys?" He chuckles bashfully, rubbing my back with gratitude. "Thank you, love. Couldn't have done it without all your support," he presses a kiss to my forehead, releasing his hold on me as the guys funneled into the room.

I congratulated them all, hugging them one by one and telling them how great they were. They all waved it off as nothing spectacular, except for Folio who flaunted about 'crushing it' with a flex of his arms. I rolled my eyes and pushed him on the shoulder playfully, laughing at him lightly.

When the guys decided to hit the showers, I took the time to order us pizza, knowing they were most likely starving. I grabbed a bottle of water and sunk into one of the couches with a huff, relieved I was able to sit. Even though I didn't do much, I still found myself exhausted, and my feet were killing me. I definitely should have worn something other than Vans, but it is what it is.

"Hey," Bryan plopped down next to me, holding his camera screen out towards me. "Look at this picture I got." I sat up, carefully taking his camera from him to get a better view of what he was showing me. At first, my eyes zeroed in on Noah, holding the mic with his gloved hand as he beamed down at the crowd. I grinned at how overjoyed he looked, just happy to see him happy, but as I scrutinized the photo further, I saw what he was smiling down at.

It was me.

Bryan had captured this picture at just the right angle where you could not only see Noah's smile but mine as well. It made my heart swell seeing that the expression of pure joy on his face was because of me. There was a whole sea of people before him, but he still had his attention on me. And even though I've seen that same look from him in person a million times before, it was such a surreal moment to see it captured on film. The look we gave each other was that of adoration, anyone could see that—even the blind.

"This is a great photo Bryan, thank you for showing me," I tell him, turning my attention to him with a smile plastered on my face. "It's what I do," he chuckles and bumps his shoulder into mine playfully, then brings his camera back into his possession. "I'll send you a digital copy when I can." I grinned at him in thanks.

Bryan and I later took the time to pack away whatever was left here in the green room, and by the time the guys got back from showering, the pizza had arrived. And just like I had assumed, they flocked right over to it and chowed down with appreciative smiles on their faces and beers in hand. When everyone's bellies were full, including my own, we headed to the bus where the guys took their time interacting with the fans. I went right onto the bus and sprawled out on the couch to relax until they came back onboard.

I had dozed off; the next thing that I knew, there was about 150 pounds of muscle and stupidity on top of me. "Folio, what the fuck?" I wheezed as he pushed the air straight out of my lungs, sitting on my torso. He leaned against the back of the couch, arms folded behind his head and legs up on the coffee table as he let out an exaggerated sigh. "Get off of me," I groaned, trying to lift my hips to shove him off. "Man, this couch is lumpy as fuck," he jokes, finally looking over at me. "Oh, hey Liv. Didn't see you there."

I huffed and stopped fighting his weight, accepting that this was what I had to deal with now. I heard the rest of the boys step onto the bus and turned my head towards them, silently begging them to get Folio off of me. Nicholas laughed with a shake of his head and kept walking towards the bunks. "Thanks for the help, dick!" I called out to him, and he replied with a sarcastic 'you're welcome'. I rolled my eyes, annoyed.

I thought for sure Jolly would have helped as he walked by, but he only stopped briefly with a smirk on his face. He then heads to the mini fridge and returns with a beer for Folio, making him settle even further on top of me as he leisurely sipped at his drink. "You guys suck," I grumbled. Jolly snorted, "I'm sorry, Oliv. I had to." He then holds his hand out towards Folio, which took me by surprise when he accepted it and stood up.

I sat up quickly when I saw Noah make his way over to me with a smirk on his face. "Oh, no, not happening," I chuckled. I just knew he was thinking about doing the same thing. He laughs, sitting down next to me and threw his arm around my shoulders, pulling me against his chest. "I'll be on top of you later," he murmurs, amusement heavy in his tone, and kisses the top of my head. I smacked his chest lightly and chuckled, "That's enough out of you." "Yes, ma'am." He rubs my shoulder as I leaned further into him.

The night continued with them nearly getting into fistfights over Mario Kart, which resulted in me stepping in occasionally when one of them would throw a hissy fit and stomp away.

Of course, with me being sober while they were all tipsy, I smoked their asses with a proud smile on my face, laughing when they'd whine and tell me I was cheating. Eventually, they walked away one by one, grabbing yet another drink and a slice of cold pizza to eat in defeat. I teased them, calling them sore losers before grabbing a slice of my own to eat with them. I debated on snagging a beer for myself, but thought better of it.

What started as us having a second dinner quickly turned into the guys making bets on who could eat a slice and chug a beer the fastest. I shook my head at them and laughed when they literally threw money down, and took a seat on the couch, watching the madness unfold. These guys could turn anything into a competition.

Noah, Nicholas, and Jolly were all $100 poorer, and Folio was $300 richer having beaten the rest of them in their silly contest. I was enjoying the entertainment they were providing until Folio made his way over to me and pulled me off the couch, handing me a beer. I froze, staring at the Modelo in my hand. I could feel the apprehension creep in with each second that passed, my mind flip-flopping between whether or not I should ruin the few weeks of sobriety that I had. I wanted so badly to crack it open and join in on the fun, but I couldn't—I had to do better for Noah, for myself.

With a shake of my head, I politely gave it back to him. "Thanks, but I'm good," I tell him, tacking on a fake smile. "Oh, come on Liv. Have some fun with us!" He opens the beer practically in my face, once again shoving it into my hands. "Seriously, Nick, I'm good," I barked.

Apprehension was slowly turning into anger. I took a deep breath and tried to calm down by telling myself it was just a drunken stupor; he wouldn't do this if he wasn't drinking as much as he had been.

"Don't be such a party pooper, Liv—" "Fuck off, Folio," I snapped, aggressively shoving the can against his chest, sending its contents all over him. "I told you I'm good." With that, I stormed off the bus to head back to the hotel that Noah booked for us earlier.

I didn't make it very far; Noah ran after me, grabbing my shoulder gently to stop me. I huffed and turned around, burying my face into his chest while he wrapped his arms around me. "I'm sorry Folio did that," he says quietly, rubbing my back. "That was completely uncalled for. Are you okay?" Trying my best to calm myself, I took a deep breath and nodded against his chest, tears of frustration burning my eyes. I could hear the blood rushing in my ears from the anger still coursing through my veins.

"Can we go back to the hotel?" I muttered into his shirt after a few minutes of silence. "Of course, love." He kisses me on the top of my head, "Let's go." I picked my head up and kissed him on his chin, a soft smile curling on his lips. He takes my hand in his and gives it a reassuring squeeze, guiding me back to the hotel.

When we got back to our room, I immediately stripped out of my clothes, leaving just the shirt on to sleep in. He chuckles when I burrow into the blankets and stood by the bed, extending his hand. "What?" I furrowed my brows. "You didn't take your makeup off or brush your teeth." I rolled my eyes, "I don't care. I just wanna go to sleep, Noah." He sighs, taking my hands in his and pulling me into a sitting position. "Come on, I'll do it for you." I whined as he stood me up, but giggled shortly after when he spun me around and wrapped his arms around me, waddling us to the bathroom.

He effortlessly hoists me up by my hips, setting me on the counter before grabbing a makeup wipe. He gripped my chin gently to hold my head still as he began wiping my face clean, and I couldn't help but grin at the foolishness of the situation. When he was finished, he pressed his lips to my forehead and put me back down on the floor.

"You're too much," I chuckled, making my way back to the bed. He followed suit, immediately pulling me against him when we got under the covers. "Nothing is ever too much for you, Liv. Remember that." I sighed, throwing my leg over his side to get as close as I could. "Sometimes I just feel like I'm too much for you. Wouldn't it just... be so much easier to not have an alcoholic as a wife?" My voice quivers. "Olivia, why would you say something like that?" He says sternly, sounding offended.

The tears started to prickle in my eyes again, and I felt ashamed for who I was. I shoved my face into the crook of his neck, hiding so he wouldn't see the emotion on my face. "You wouldn't have to deal with my outbursts or any of the other shit I've done to you over the years." My throat was burning, trying not to cry. "I'm sorry for throwing the beer at Nick," I whimpered. "Look at me." I shake my head 'no', only for him to bring my face into his view. "You do not have to apologize for that, okay? He stepped out of line, and I'm going to have a conversation with him about it." I sniffled. "Does he...understand?" He sighed, "He does, he just got carried away."

I didn't know what else to say, but the shame I felt only continued to build. It was embarrassing knowing that everyone on that bus was aware of my addiction. How I reacted tonight was embarrassing. I can only imagine how embarrassing it must be for Noah to be married to me.

I didn't even realize I was crying until Noah brushed his thumbs under my eyes, hushing me, telling me there was no reason for me to be crying. I couldn't stop though, and kept apologizing about nothing specific—I kept spewing the words 'I'm sorry' over and over and over again.

"Olivia, stop. What are you so sorry about?" His voice was riddled with concern. "For being me," I whispered through my hysterics. I watched his face fall, his eyes darkening with sorrow. "Stop that," he shakes his head in bewilderment. "That's the most absurd thing I've ever heard you say. Why would be sorry for that, Olivia?" "I-I could be so much better than this, Noah. I could still be 3 years sober or even better than that. I could just, I don't know, not be an alcoholic," I scoffed at myself.

"Enough," he says sternly, repositioning so he could look down at me. He takes my face in his hands, his dark eyes staring intently into mine. "You don't understand just how incredible you are. You went through emotional abuse, you went through losing your father, you went through dropping everything and moving across the country with me, and you even started your own business. And on top of all that, you stayed sober." "But then I fucked it all up—" "Shh," he runs his thumbs delicately across the apples of my cheeks, soothing me. "Recovery isn’t linear, Liv. We've been through this. You. Are. Incredible," he reiterates, kissing me between each word. "And I am so fucking proud of you."

"I love you so much," I sputtered through a sob, tears spilling from my eyes as his words sunk in. "I don't know what I did to deserve you." "You were you," he smiles down at me and brushes my bangs back, kissing my forehead. "And I love you for being you."

|Chapter 10|

[baura-bear]

i gotta have the most swagalicious panic attack ever

i mean, come on you can't just drop that

a few notes beforehand: jack is 10000000% based off of angsty teenage me and Race is like also 1000000% based off of my roommate (genuinely this is 1% racetrack higgins 99% my roommate so i want to hear 0% complaining about being out of character. this is my special little boy that i've crafted and i love him). also this snippet i chose doesn't even have the swagalicious panic attack but it's long (I couldn't choose which parts to share) so that will make up for it :)

disclaimer they smoking weed

Jack had only been with Medda Larkin for a week and was already proving to be a handful. Medda’s adopted son had even interrogated him, wondering why he always had to be “such a little asshole”. The words had no malice and Jack actually didn’t mind the kid’s company. He had insisted that Medda was sweet and really did want to help. Jack scoffed at that, making an off-hand comment about his nickname Racetrack. He did find the nickname a little strange, but Jack had no room to judge. 

Tonight had been particularly rough. Dinner was fine. It should’ve been fine. But the sound of forks on the plates was making Jack want to rip his hair out. Race was chewing too loud, not bothering to finish his bite before he spoke. And ultimately Jack couldn’t understand how no one could care about where Crutchie was. 

When Medda had asked Jack how his day had gone he glared at her, carelessly dropping his fork so that it clattered against his plate. “Pretty fucking shit,” he spat before storming away from the table. He knew it was dramatic, but it was also the truth. Medda had encouraged him not to shy away from what he was feeling, so he didn’t.

He stomped up the stairs, taking them two at a time and slammed the door to his bedroom.

“Do you want me to talk to him?” Race asked, still staring at the stairs where Jack had been.

Medda reached across the table, patting Race’s hand. “Let’s give him some space, he’ll come around,” she said gently.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~lalala cut all the in between stuff~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Gah, Fuck!” He exclaimed, suddenly stopping in the middle of the room. He clenched and unclenched his fists a few times then shook out his hands. He was buzzing with energy that he needed to get rid of. 

Jack rushed over to his closet, taking out his ratty converse and a hoodie, pulling them both on. Some fresh air would do him good.

He quietly opened his door, hoping not to draw attention from anyone in the house. He hurried down the stairs (which thankfully weren’t creaky). But it all was futile because he had to walk right past Race to get to the front door. 

Race didn’t seem to pay him any mind. He had a headset on and was talking to someone who, presumably, was on the other end of the TV screen, playing Minecraft with him.

Jack opened the wooden front door and paused as he looked out the screen door. Apparently while he had been talking to Medda a torrential downpour had begun outside. He stood dumbly, staring at a rippling puddle. Jack didn’t have an umbrella and he wasn’t about to ask for one. 

Meanwhile Race had pulled his headset off one ear and said “Gimme a sec’ Al.” He pressed a button, muting his end of the mic. “Going somewhere?” he asked, genuinely sounding curious.

“It’s raining,” Jack said lamely, still staring at the puddle. 

“Y-up,” Race said, popping the p. He stared at the back of Jack’s head, waiting for an actual response. When he didn’t get one he said, “So… You’re not going anywhere?”

Jack sighed. “I guess not,” he muttered, finally closing the door. He stood dumbly staring at Race, wondering what he should do. It felt weird to stomp back to his room. 

Race smiled at him, patting the couch, welcoming Jack to sit. Jack hesitated but walked over, squishing himself into the corner of the couch, as far away from Race as possible. 

“Isn’t this game for babies?” Jack asked rudely, staring at the TV which currently showed that Race was in a dirt hut with nothing more than a crafting table and bed. 

Race shrugged, “I’m just a big baby in a big boy body.”

Jack scrunched his eyebrows together, trying to understand Race. He was an enigma. Jack pulled his legs up onto the couch, hugging his knees as he watched Race run around killing mobs without any armor on. 

“No shoes on the couch,” Race said, followed by a scream as he turned around and was face-to-face with a creeper.

Jack glared at him. For one, he didn’t give a shit about the couch, he also had just started to relax and was not about to move. “Whatever,” he muttered.

“Mama and I are just trying to help you, you know?” Race successfully evaded the creeper, but left a hole in the ground. Another player ran over (actually wearing armor) and patched it. Race unmuted briefly to say, “I was going to! I don’t have any dirt on me!” There was a stack in his hot bar. 

Jack didn’t say anything, he was more of a quiet high and he didn’t particularly want to engage with Race.

“I’m serious. I know you don’t trust us, and I get it Jack, I do, but if you won’t trust Mama’s word, at least trust mine.” Race ran back into his dirt hut so he could look at Jack. When it was clear he wasn’t going to get a response he sighed. “Do you wanna go smoke?

“I just…” Jack paused, actually considering. He had just smoked but he wasn’t that high, he could definitely smoke more. Plus, free weed was free weed. Jack shrugged, then nodded. 

Race unmuted his microphone, running out of his hut to find the other player. “Yo, Albo, I’m gonna go hang with Jack. Yeah. Ok, I’ll probably get on later. Yeah. See ya.” Race logged off, putting his remote and headset in a drawer on the TV stand. He turned to Jack, who was still curled up on the couch. “C’mon,” he waved a hand to signal for Jack to follow him. 

Race led Jack up to his room, which was similar to Jack’s own room in a few ways. The actual architecture was the same as Jack’s just mirrored. Race also had a desk but it was a different model and was cluttered with all kinds of odds and ends. His bed had what looked like childrens bed sheets with little cartoon planets and stars scattered across it. There was a small bedside table with a lava lamp on it. 

One corner of the room was completely dedicated to a giant bean bag chair that was surrounded by pillows and blankets. Behind it on the wall was a large tie dyed tapestry. Jack actually thought that looked inviting

“Make yourself at home, that there is the cozy corner, guests get first dibs.” He pointed at the giant bean bag. 

Jack nodded, kicking off his shoes before he fell back into the bean bag which was… incredibly comfortable. He sunk back into it, curling his knees up. 

Meanwhile Race was rummaging through the top drawer of his bedside table. He pulled out a couple of things. First was a small remote with various colorful buttons, the other was what looked like a small makeup bag. Race turned to Jack with a mischievous smile. “Watch this.” He pressed a button on the remote and the room lit up blue. Jack hadn’t noticed but lining the ceiling of Race’s room were LED lights. 

Race walked over to the window, pulling the blinds so that the unnatural light was the only thing brightening the room. The planets and stars on his sheets looked like they were glowing now. “Cool right? There are other colors but-” he flopped back onto his bed, “I think this one’s the best.” Race pushed himself up so that he was criss-cross on his bed and leaned over to turn on the lava lamp. “I can’t believe Mama thinks I don’t smoke. You’d think it’d be obvious by now.” He rolled his eyes, “Not as obvious as you though.”

“It’s not like I was trying to hide it,” Jack muttered, picking at the loose threads from the hole in his jeans. 

“That’s what I don’t get.” Race had started rummaging through his small bag. Jack realized that Race didn’t have actual weed, he had carts. “It’s not that hard to be discreet, plus Mama doesn’t really care. I mean she does- but like if we were twenty-one she wouldn’t. She just doesn’t want us fucking up our brains or getting in any legal trouble.” Race screwed a cartridge into the battery and took a hit. “This is so fun! Bonding time!” he bounced up and down a few times, taking another hit.

Jack was slowly starting to regret coming in here. It felt like Race was about to be a ball of energy, which wasn’t necessarily a problem, just a bit overwhelming. 

“Think fast!” Race yelled before chucking the pen over at Jack.

 Jack was able to think fast and did indeed catch it but thought Race was being a bit reckless. He turned it over in his hand, reading the label. “Banana… Colada?” he asked skeptically. 

“Yup! Fruity. Like me!” 

“Right…” Jack took a hit and was met with an unpleasantly weed-y banana-y flavor. “This is terrible,” Jack said through a plume of smoke. 

“You mispronounced, amazing,” Race leaned forward far enough so that he was on his stomach with his feet kicked back behind him.  

“Nah, terrible is right.” He took another hit before throwing the grossness back at Race. Instead of trying to catch it, Race let it land on the bed behind him, paying it no mind. 

“To each their own,” Race sighed, kicking his feet back and forth like a teenage girl in cheesy 2000s movies. “So, tell me about yourself,” Race prompted, now rolling onto his back so that his head could hang off the bed and watch Jack upside down.

“Not much to tell.” Jack shrugged, watching the lava lamp as it slowly warmed up, starting to work. He didn’t really want to talk, he just wanted to not think for a while.

“That’s alright.” Race sat up, grabbing his pen. He took another hit then grabbed something off of his bedside table. “I’ll tell you about me.” He walked over to the bean bag and pointed at it. “May I?” 

“It’s your room, ain’t it?” 

“Damn right it is!” Race flopped down next to Jack, mushing himself up against Jack’s side. 

also adding this snippet because i <3 javey

David let out a huff of air as he fell back onto Jack’s bedspread. Jack had been sitting there for a while, legs criss-crossed, hunched over his sketchbook mindlessly scribbling away.  There were various pencils, markers, and erasers scattered about around him. Occasionally he would lean back, turn his head, grab a different tool and then lean in to change some details. 

David rolled onto his side to look at what Jack was drawing. He was unsurprised, but elated when he saw that Jack was, in fact, drawing him. “Looks good,” David complimented, flopping onto his back again. 

“It’s alright,” Jack muttered, too focused on perfecting the details to say much more. 

David rolled his eyes but didn’t bother refuting Jack, it was a battle he’d never win trying to get Jack to admit his art was decent. “You should give me a tattoo,” David said out of the blue. 

Jack scoffed and shook his head. “What?”

“Not a real one,” David hurried to explain. “Just draw on my arm with a sharpie or something.”

“A sharpie would look like shit, the ink would bleed and look all muddy.”

“Ok, a pen then,”

Without another word Jack got up and walked over to his desk, sorting through a drawer until he found what he wanted. He crawled back up onto the bed and sat closer to David, taking David’s forearm and resting it in his lap. “You gotta tell me what to draw,” Jack said, peering down at David’s piercing blue eyes. 

“Oh, um…” David closed his eyes, taking a moment to himself to think. “Something natural… like a plant or something.”

“A plant or something?” Jack repeated skeptically. “A’ight but you can’t get mad if you don’t like it.”

[pinkmirth]

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ (ch.1 | feenin')

—𝑶𝑵𝑬.

SERIES MASTERLIST | NEXT CHAPTER | WK: 2.8K

Frenzied cheers buzzed throughout the raving auditorium, the basketball’s reverberating bounces against the slick court floor adding onto the thrill. This match was nothing but hyped, but in a good way so.

The sports chants of the college goers sounded rather foreign to you, since it wasn’t like you attended Stohess University anyway. The fellow audience around you were at the edge of their seats, hailing their team’s basketball players as the raving shouts began to sound borderline intoxicating. So much so that you couldn’t help but clap along to another school’s anthem.

“Havin’ fun?” Marco questions, the corners of his mouth upturned into a smile that showcased his quirky dimples. You beamed right back at the freckled male, plush lips curved into a grin of your own.

It all seemed trivial, just a friendly collegiate basketball match that your friends Jean and Marco had invited you to free of charge, but it was all the break you needed from your own studies and more.

“Hell yeah I am,” you chuckled in reply, “but you know what’d make it better?”

His doe brown eyes flitted between you and the vibrant box of candy in hand, which was seemingly low in supply after you and him dipped your hands in for a bite a countless number of times.

“A refill on these, yeah?” His claims were just as what you were thinking, earning your brief nod of agreement. Marco subtly shook the snackbox within his hold, the spare pieces left beginning to rattle around with the motion.

“You read my mind, Coco,” you grinned, rising up from your reserved seat with spare cash stuffed into your back pocket. “I’ll be right back, ‘aight?” He sends you a brief smile in compliance.

“Get the sour patch this time!”

“You got sour patch money..?”

He pursed his lips momentarily, unsure as to whether you had been joking or not. “M’just messing ‘round with you, Coco,” you snickered with a teasing grin, slipping a hand into your pocket to retrieve the few bucks. “It’s on me.” Was all you said before making your way through the crowded stands, descending down stair after stair.

“It’s only the first game of the season, and our pride and joy, the Stohess Scouts, are already dominating tonight’s guest competitors!” the commentator boomed through the mic, their voice adding onto the various noises that filled the gymnasium. “We’re calling for a halftime, but let’s keep our fingers crossed that Kirschtein can pull through with a fair amount of two-pointers by the upcoming final quarter—“

The mentioned name of your close friend makes you beam with pride, content that your Jeanie was the star of the show. You set eyes on the brunette from where you stood, who was now making his way to the sidelines for a desperately needed and duly earned swig of water, his light brown hair in a disarray of stray strands fraying out from underneath the simple hairband you’d given him a while back.

You eagerly began to flit down the stands to reach him, striding past the poor row of benched players, from the injured to the water boy.

Jean eventually takes notice of your arrival and instantly beams, subtle puffs of air leaving his agape lips after all the running and dribbling and such that came with game day.

The first thing you do is taunt upon your arrival,“Y’all had better win, Jeanie.”

As always, Jean only smirks. “You doubting that I won’t bring that trophy home, Pookie?” you playfully grimaced and let out a stifled laugh over the somewhat embarrassing nickname— one that you made up when the pair of you were seven, and it's the same one that he’s been holding onto for all these years, even at nineteen.

“Well, I’d be lying if I said you aren’t lookin’ pretty damn promising out there,” your reply is genuine, the soft grin that you display causing Jean to display one of his own. It was an affable, never ending cycle— you’d tease and he’d do it right back, until the both of you would laugh over it and depart with a brief smile.

“M’getting snacks, I’ll be back before the breaktime ends, okay?” Kirschtein briefly nods in compliance, sending a few adjusting tugs to the white basketball sleeve hugging his bicep before departing with the sharp squeak of his shoes sprinting against the court floor.

Once again, you find yourself strolling past every individual seated on the benches. You’re speed-walking alongside them, anticipating to retrieve a couple snacks for you and Marco, until something— Someone catches your eye.

It was brisk and almost too sudden, but flashes of green meet your line of vision. You managed to make out the blur of thick brows, long dark hair having been thrown into the messiest attempted bun, a modest, charming smile, and a pair of turquoise irises that seemingly peered into your own with an intensity that made you take it personal. Yet, you hardly even caught a good glimpse of their face, whoever they were.

You passed by said person a good thirty seconds ago, already pushing your way past the double doors and over to the vending machines stationed along the semi-populated hallway, but that striking gaze was still heavily implanted within your mind.

Hazy green-grey eyes, you recalled, accompanied with them shooting you the briefest grin just as you whisked by. Though, as recent as it was, that was all in the past now.

You glance around to see a decent handful of people here to buy food of their own, being perched at other vending machines. The snack-wielding contrivance before you isn't drawing much attention and doesn’t have an awaiting crowd standing around for a bag of potato chips, so you withdraw the dollars from your back pocket and attempt to straighten them out a bit before inserting them into the slot.

“Wow,”

This sudden breathy gasp from a “random whoever” is something that you take notice of, but it isn’t enough to rip your attention away from your scavenge for Marco’s sour patch. To their dismay, you do nothing but continue with what you came to do. In your opinion, whoever that was had been getting a bit too close for comfort..

Albeit the evident way you choose to ignore, another whistle resounds, along with an unpleasantly suggestive hum. It sounds somewhat louder, and it seems much closer than before. You can’t help but tear your gaze away from slot E7 and look up, since it seems so directed towards you.

You've hardly turned around before being met with the abrupt presence of a stranger uninvitingly looming beside you, the man’s beaming grin seeming sickeningly sweet. Almost too approachable.

“Oh, I’m sorry to pop up out of the blue,” his apologies come out within a chuckle, and as inviting as he attempts to seem, your brows only furrow. “—but you really caught my attention!” He was greatly unfamiliar to you, some white male around your age with shaggy auburn hair and chestnut colored eyes in contrast. Despite his subtle charm, you weren't growing a liking to him and his stupid little smile.

“Oh,” You muse with a dull hum, pursing your glossed lips before releasing them with a slight pop, “Did I really?” His nod is too enthusiastic, and you hardly try to cover up the mug-like expression that overtook your features, eyes grazing across his plain face uninterestedly. You promptly slide the dollars right back into your pocket, “Nice to know. Can you mind your own now?”

“Wait! I'm not meaning to be a bother, but.. I don’t see girls like you around much..” You're instantly encased with a shiver of deep cringe, one that annoyingly scurries up your spine and makes your lip twitch into a vexed glower.

You emitted the most exaggerated huff, shifting your weight from one foot to the other, all the while glancing at the sheen glass of the vending machine to see your own reflection. It was plastered all across your face, yet this dense-ass man still couldn't get it; you were pissed-off.

Great. You internally groan, Another snow roach who thinks I’m exotic.

“I really appreciate how different you look,” Was he really still rambling on, despite knowing damn well that you were growing uncomfortable? Or maybe, he was just an utter dumbass and couldn't take the painfully obvious hints.

“You wanna know what I’d appreciate, hm?” You say sharply, taking a swift inhale through your nose, “If you left me alone.”

Your smooth, placid voice was the first thing that Eren heard when he trotted into the hallway, that of which sounded dulcet and intriguingly accentuated, but more annoyed than anything else. He turns the corner and is met with the sight of a bastard that looked too smug for his own good, and a girl, such a pretty girl, whose melanated skin even found a way to gleam under the shitty fluorescent school lights.

It then clicks in Eren’s mind, briefly but distinctively. You were the person who'd strolled by the bench that he was sitting on earlier. You were also the same one who did a double take upon seeing him, glancing once— No, twice, with those captivating eyes of yours. He remembered the way his leg started to bop along the floor with a newfound excitement that he just couldn't place. Though, more than anything else, Eren recalled that he did the exact same; hold his gaze and grin at the sight of you.

“Ah, but you can spare me a minute more, can’t you?” You respond with the swift roll of your eyes, eliciting an exasperated groan, “Nigga, I said bye.” Eren’s thick, neat brows falter into a furrowed position, looking upon the scenario that was being splayed out before him, which everyone else in that hall was seemingly content with ignoring. It couldn't have only been him that saw that this bastard was relentlessly bothering you, could it?

“Woah, no need to get aggressive,” Eren’s expression contorts into a grimace upon hearing every little word, the tips of his ears red with brewing rage. Despite his matured will to control his daily outburst of emotions, it was safe to say that he'd never exactly gotten past his trial of anger issues since he was a kid.

“Listen, this is my nice way of tellin’ you to fuck off, but I can get aggressive if you want.” Your offer sounds downright threatening, “Do you really want that?”

You’re snappy and direct, and Eren can't deny that he likes that. Though, as much as he's growing fond of your strong will and defensiveness, he knows he can't stand idly by all day, he just can't. Besides, everyone knew well— It was practically Eren Jaeger’s forte to intervene.

The green eyed male eventually begins to make his way towards the scene in the form of subtle limps, being cautious of his ankle sprain as he grows closer, which was the reasoning behind him being benched in the first place.

You were much too preoccupied with that cheeky, unrelenting bastard to notice the way that Eren was gradually coming over, anyway. What could he say? He was a fan of the element of surprise.

You halt in the middle of your opposing rant, growing aware of another’s emerging presence. You're yet again bombarded with somebody else making their way beside you with an act of stealth that you were unknowingly soon to be thankful of.

Before you get the chance to merely peer in their direction, tall, a long haired male clad in the black and grey Stohess basketball uniform is towering alongside you, his toned, burly arm slinking around your shoulder.

This sudden proximity leaves your head spinning in the best way possible, and how could it not? You don’t know a single thing about this alluring stranger, but he’s close, so close, and it gets your heart and mind racing miles in a minute. You were subtly, but instantly enraptured once the weight of his arm rests comfortably upon you.

Eren doesn’t pay the confused male not one glance, but instead tends to you and your own state of delighted shock. “Play it cool, alright? I wanna help.” Your breath instinctively hitches once he leans down to ease out his whispered plan into your ear, flashing you a consoling half smile.

You return a brief nod before dragging your eyes along the male’s face, which looks so much better up close. Your interpretation of his image was more literal and precise than you thought to be; The dark, long tresses that had been pulled back with the aid of a thin elastic scrunchie, his expressively thick brows, pink lips that upturned into a supportive smirk, and those sea-green eyes that left you feeling weak right in the knees.

Albeit Eren’s prior grin, he eventually turns his attention towards the unrelenting man for a second or two. In that moment, his expression speedily grew all the more intense, practically sharper than before, and contorted into something of a scowl. Although, you can tell he’s trying so hard to channel his temper and mask away his revulsion.

“I’ve been, ah.. waiting for you to come back to your seat!” Eren begins to improvise, flashing you a subtle gleam that made it seem as though the pair of you were familiar with each other. “S’been a while since then."

He purses his lips within a pause, nimble fingers draping along your shoulder before shooting you a reassuring squeeze, "Is it ‘cause this bastard is keeping you occupied? He’s bothering you, isn't he?”

You're damn near close to stammering over the words that were bound to leave your mouth. Though, it doesn't take much for you to regain yourself. Your lips fall slightly agape all the while you briskly dragged your line of vision along his charming features, but your response follows after in a quick manner. It was just that you couldn't help how his unnerving gaze left you mesmerized.

“—Yes. Yes he is.” You hum, accompanying the claim with your hands crossing over your chest as you leaned into his grasp, in an attempt to appear convincing. Your confession sounded assured and stern, which was the complete opposite of how girls would act around him.

Eren knew well of the doting effect that he had on females— It was hard to forget when he’d merely ask for a spare pencil and wind up with an unasked phone number in return. Though, he admired the way you saw him as any other person and played along so well.

The brown-haired male scornfully laughs, and just the sound of him leaves you feeling uncomfy, “Whaddya' mean? We were just having a small chat, isn't that right?” Your contorted expression is full-fledged disrespectful, and Eren has to stifle his chuckle over your unsmiling glare and scrunched up nose. Damn, were you entertaining.

“Small chat, huh? Well, it was real one sided..” You voice out an irked murmur, “You're over exaggerating, you just haven’t warmed up to me yet—”

“If I didn’t know any better,” Eren makes a very much intended interruption, “I’d say that she doesn’t want to mingle with a sorry bastard that should leave her alone already.” You note at the subtle flex of Eren’s clenching jaw, signifying the way his already weary patience was running rather thin.

“Bastard—? Wait, who even are you?”

“Who am I, huh?” scoffs the green eyed male alongside you, a twinge of drawled hesitance in his voice. Eren pauses momentarily, only now beginning to realize that his little hero act wasn’t as planned out as he thought to be.

What could he say that would be persuasive enough to get this sorry fucker to leave you alone other than throwing fists unnecessarily? Jaeger’s emerald-hued eyes eventually light up in the dawn of an idea. One that he’s somewhat unsure of, but it’s much better than nothing.

Besides, this plan of his had been set in stone by the very moment he had draped his bare arm around you and shot you that all-too-suggestive smile, so he might as well finish what he started.

Eren’s touch trails downwards swiftly, spreading riveting tingles from your shoulder down to your forearm, then along your wrist, and even past there. His hand is now encasing the left side of your hip as his lithe fingers press into the curve of your supple waist. He takes a light inhale, giving you a light squeeze with his large palm, as though signaling for you to brace yourself over what he was bound to say.

“—I'm her boyfriend.”

—𝑭𝑰𝑵.