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stxrvel · 2 years

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the outbreak pt. 2

summary: you've kinda been into therapy and turns out it worked?

pairing: bucky barnes x f!reader

words: +4k

warnings: nothing really, i think. this is actually kinda fluffly. i was in a good mood.

note: i didn't planned on publishing the second part so soon, but i had a lot of free time and a mind running wild. still didn't liked that much how this chapter turned out tho. hoping i could make another part to see what happened to my girl wanda! see you guys in the next fic, love yall. the feedback is always appreciated! thank u for reading.

(if a part 3 never appears, just know this is an open ending)

part 1, extra: 1.5

“So, how've you been doing these past few weeks?”

“You don't have to make small talk to me, Natasha. I enjoy the silence.”

“I ask genuinely. I barely even see you in the halls of the Complex. We only really talk on missions and we've had three since that happened.”

“Don't worry about me.”

“I just want to know how you're doing.”

You turned your head to look at the woman sitting next to you. The uncomfortable leather chair you two were in did nothing to appease the constant headache you'd been having these past few days. Natasha watched you with an arched eyebrow and her hands in her lap. You knew she was right, everyone was always right when it came to you. Apparently Bucky was right when he said everyone knew but you, and that spectrum extended to everyone always seemed to know how you were doing if only by the movement of your eyelids.

That's why you had begun to avoid people.

You spent more time in your room and in the Complex gym, doing research assignments for Fury that involved leaving the building, the three missions with Natasha (fully mandatory and against your will) and sometimes in the lab with Bruce when he needed someone to hold his canisters full of chemical liquids.

Fury and Bruce were the only people you tolerated lately. No funny looks, no awkward questions, no innuendo; just what they needed and goodbye.

But, that time, you did have to go out with Natasha. You weren't given the option to come on your own and it was understandable. A little bit. Even though you were trying to make amends for what you had done, not only on the mission a few months ago but also for what you had done to yourself for years, you didn't know that recovery meant you had to have a watcher on you at all times.

And what's worse, that watchman came with a bird.

“I'm fine, Nat,” you replied to her liking finally.

A short laugh from across the room caught your attention.

“Tell that to the tantrum you threw Fury so we wouldn't come with you.”

You gave Clint Barton a hard look, almost lying on the other longer couch as if he were admiring the earth from a cloud. He had one arm over his eyes which he had raised slightly to give you a mocking look, and one leg bent so that his foot was on the couch.

“I didn't throw a tantrum.”

“Fury, please, I know how to take care of myself. I don't need two bodyguards behind me all day. I'm fully capable of getting there and back on my own.”

Clint's poor imitation of your voice caused you an undercurrent of irritation, but you easily made the decision not to let it come out against him. It turns out that sometimes you could just shut up instead of exploding against others, crazy, right?

“First, I don't talk like that.”

“That's right. Lousy imitation, Clint,” Natasha had your back.

“Second, I only asked him once to let me come alone. I didn't beg him like a fool.”

“Sam told me otherwise,” Clint countered and you frowned. You felt the smile on his mouth.

“Sam's an idiot.”

“Sam's on Bucky's side,” Natasha mused.

And then, an awkward silence.

That was something you hated and still couldn't get used to. When people would say Bucky's name around you, the atmosphere would get strangely tense and suddenly everyone would go silent. It felt strange at first, but when Wanda did it you understood what was going on.

“Stop doing that,” you grumbled with a grimace. “I'm not fucking marble. I'm not going to crack from hearing his name.”

“We didn't say anything,” Natasha spoke again, her innocent little dove expression getting on your nerves.

Count to ten, Y/N, don't forget…

“You guys always go silent after you say his name like he's going to spontaneously explode. We're adults, you know? There are things to get over.”

“Wow,” you heard Clint mutter.

“Shut up, bird.”

Clint made a negative, game-like sound when you gave an incorrect answer.

“Three points off. Natasha and Clint are in the lead,” the man snorted as he rose from his position on the couch. You couldn't do more than give him another look, waiting for him to evaporate into thin air.

Natasha stirred next to you looking around at her surroundings, the dark colors of the room almost absorbing all the natural light coming through the few windows that were in the building.

“You haven't talked to him yet?”

“No.”

“Do you plan to?”

“I don't know. Maybe not.”

“Why?” Clint inquired, suddenly more interested in the subject.

“Because I don't feel like I give a s-”

Clint made the sound again.

“Two points off.”

“Clint,” Natasha reproached him with her tone of voice and the aforementioned only flashed her a smile. “It's been several weeks since you were last together. And you've had a lot of improvement-”

“That's debatable.”

“… don't you feel ready to talk to him?” Natasha questioned, completely ignoring Clint's intrusion into the conversation, again.

“I really don't know,” you admitted. “She told me I'm on the right track too, but just the thought of seeing him again after all those things he said… that I said…”

You sighed. Your gaze focused on the dark floor, a bluish-green hidden behind a black carpet with red, the most horrible carpet you had ever seen in your life.

“It scares me. I don't think I can do it.”

The woman let out an affirmative sound from her throat and the room became silent once again.

You almost let your mind begin to wander into memories, conjuring up the times when you felt like you were on top of the world when you were really about to hit rock bottom. But you quickly focused on where you were and what you were going to do there.

You were going to pick up Wanda. You had wanted to do it alone because it had been several weeks since you had last seen her. The last thing you told her was that you were going on another mission with Bucky and that you hoped it wouldn't end as badly as the argument you had that half the building heard. After that, she left.

She had made the decision to come and talk to Stephen Strange and had told you a few days before you left on what would be your last (official) field mission. She left the Complex the day after you left and all you had heard from her since then was that she was fine, that Strange hadn't locked her in a dungeon and that she was learning many things about her magic, especially how to control it to have power in things like her dreams. You still didn't know what those lucid dreams she had been having for a while had been due to, but judging from the letter you had received yesterday where she asked you to go to the Sanctum Sanctorum, it looked like she had gotten some kind of response.

When you told Fury what you were going to do, he didn't hesitate for a second to say that he would ask the Wonder Duo to accompany you. Clearly you balked, not as many times as Sam and Clint implied, but you didn't expose any more complaints to the Director's authoritative voice.

So, there you three were. Waiting for the wizards to appear from somewhere as you waited in one of the most horribly decorated rooms you'd ever seen.

“Sorry for the delay.”

The new male voice that echoed in the room startled you. You cringed and turned your head every which way until you came upon Strange's figure standing at the entrance to the room, not far from where you three were standing. Natasha and Clint remained unperturbed and you suppressed your desire to complain about the intrusion. You were the only one who hadn't heard him coming, apparently.

“Y/N!” you heard Wanda's voice.

You shot up from the uncomfortable couch the moment you saw her emerge from behind Strange's body. Quickly, you met halfway and melted into a big hug. You shifted from side to side trying to keep your strength and tears held back because of how much you had missed her.

“You look great!” was what she said to you the moment you parted.

“Don't lie to her, Wanda,” Clint exclaimed, and shortly you heard Natasha hiss in his direction.

“I've had better days.”

“I can't believe the day is here already! You have to tell me everything. What happened on the mission? What happened with Bucky?”

Again, the unpleasant silence.

“Why are you two making those faces?”

Wanda was watching the Wonder Duo right behind you and you couldn't help but let out a big exhale.

You turned to look at the only person who really gave a damn about your life.

“Thanks for everything, Strange.”

The man nodded in your direction. “It was my pleasure. Hopefully everything will be better from now on.”

Wanda waved goodbye to him as you turned around and pointed the other two people in the room toward the exit.

The other goodbyes were short and you were soon finding yourselves exiting through one of the portals opened by Strange, where you met the entrance to the Complex head on.

“Ah, magic. It makes life so much simpler,” Clint commented before starting to walk in the direction of the common room.

Natasha had the decency to bid you farewell and followed the bird's path at a tight pace.

“I thought they were going to join us,” Wanda mused, watching their figures walk away.

“No, they were just my nannies.”

“Nannies?” you saw her frown.

You watched the grimace on her face and almost have the urge to ask Sam to come give her a rundown of what had happened in the last few weeks since that last mission, but you mentally pulled back and offered a small smile to the confused woman in front of you.

“We have a lot to talk about.”

---

“Have you eaten today?”

The haze that clouded your mind slowly disappeared, your head barely registering the movements your body made to stay conscious. The soles of your shoes were too hard for your liking and you'd had to go sit down while you waited for Wanda to return. You didn't know how long it had been since that, but it seemed to be long enough for Steve Rogers to approach the cafeteria table where you were sitting with a tray containing the day's food.

“You look like you could use some of this.”

The blond gently pushed the tray until it was on your side of the table, and the smell of beef stew didn't take long to reach your lungs. It smelled good, to be honest. You looked down at the food and moved your hands to grab the silverware.

“Thank you.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I'm just waiting for Wanda. She went to talk to Fury.”

“I saw her coming in. She said she had a lot of things to tell.”

“She told me exactly the same thing.”

“And did you get to talk about anything before she left?”

You glanced at the fork in your left hand before looking up and meeting Steve's unconcerned face. You had learned very quickly that it wasn't too hard to get to know the captain in your position as opposed to how unreachable he looked to the rest of the population. He was a rough and tough man, but he would do things like bring lunch to a female shipmate who had a blank stare and sit down and try to chat with her.

He was good. Steve was good.

But he wasn't sneaky.

“If you want to know the verdict, talk to Strange. He's a close friend of Tony's.”

The man only sighed, his shoulders slumping in time with his breathing as if he'd been in alert mode all day.

“I didn't mean to sound so…. opportunistic.”

You rolled your eyes.

“You didn't sound opportunistic, Steve, you're just bad at trying to hide your curiosity,” you expressed with a small smile, but the man didn't look convinced by your words. “She's fine. She looks fine. She sounds fine. Whatever they had done, talked about or practiced, it surely paid off. I don't think you have anything to worry about.”

“She looked really scared before she left. You didn't see her. She asked me several times to communicate with you because she didn't know if it was a good idea to do that anymore.”

“She asked you that?”

“Yes. But the mission was very delicate, we couldn't risk it.”

You nodded in your direction, your gaze wandering back over the food.

“I just want her to be okay,” Steve mumbled and you almost missed the way his face contracted. His blue eyes found yours. “She's been through too much throughout her life and now this. It's like a joke of the universe.”

“She'll be fine. She has us. If she needs strength, she'll have plenty.”

Steve smiled, and then you took your first bite of beef stew.

You grimaced.

The blond frowned.

“Was the smell better than the taste, again?”

You nodded with your mouth full. Your hands went to the glass of water in the corner of the tray and you didn't hesitate to down the meat with all the liquid in it. You were almost never lucky enough to taste good lunches in that cafeteria.

“FRIDAY,” you heard Steve say.

“Yes, Captain.”

“Can you order a 12-inch tuna Subway on whole wheat bread with all the vegetables except the bell peppers and olives, please.”

“Right away, Captain.”

“That wasn't necessary,” you turned to the man as his gaze focused on yours.

“You can't go without eating.”

“I would have been able to place the order.”

“Mmm, really?”

“Of course! Do you think I waste the opportunity to spend Tony's money every chance I get? Even, I would have ordered more.”

“Oh, seriously?” Steve had a mischievous grin on his face and you furrowed your brow at his strange expression. “FRIDAY, make it three.”

You half-opened your lips.

“Sure thing, Captain.”

“Are you out of your mind?”

“What's with the attitude? It's Tony's money, isn't it?”

You hadn't heard that kind of boldness from Steve very often, and when it happened it was a complete event to witness. The man was a stickler, everyone knew him that way. He didn't understand the word rest and most of his free moments were only used to keep reconsidering attack strategies. Steve wasn't one to let loose and go with the flow very often, but when he did it was something to be enjoyed.

“You know he doesn't mind, right?”

And the moment was over.

“No? I thought he still hated me from lying to him about the book.”

“Uhm…” Steve fumbled over his words and you were amused at the way his features scrunched up. “He doesn't hate you. He was just angry. Besides, it's been a long time, he probably doesn't even remember that.”

“I think he's going to remember that until he dies.”

“Steve.”

You froze in place.

Abort mission. Abort mission. 911. Mayday, mayday, mayday.

Steve looked over your shoulder and then back up at you, your eyes on the embroidery of his brown jacket. You tried to keep your expression composed and sent him a smile of assurance that even you couldn't believe. But you couldn't do anything else. You couldn't break down at that moment. Besides, he would most likely ask the blonde to come with him and Steve would go. You wouldn't really have to deal with anything.

“He's really coming,” you heard Steve mutter in your direction.

Your face scrunched up in confusion, and you watched his expression of poorly disguised panic. You had told Steve only once, days ago, that you weren't ready to talk to Bucky at all. And, apparently, he had made it his problem too.

“Are you busy?”

You heard Bucky so close that a shiver ran through your body. It had been weeks since you'd last heard his voice. On that mission.

“No, I was just talking to-”

“Captain.”

But what was this, the all-call-Steve-at-once festival?

You sank back in your seat when you recognized the Director's voice. If he was there, it meant Wanda must be coming with him, and judging by the contractions in Steve's face, going from confused to incredulous to dumbfounded to flushed, your friend was most likely waving him out of there.

“A word, please,” Fury spoke again, and Steve barely let a second pass before he sprung out of his chair like a spring. He gave you a look and you could almost see the apology written in his eyes.

“Buck, I'm sorry- I mean, wait here for me.”

“What?”

“I won't be late, I promise.”

“I can wait for you in the living room…”

“No,” Steve contradicted him sharply. You caught a glimpse of his stiff expression out of the corner of your eye. “Wait for me here, can you?”

You didn't hear an answer, but you guessed it was positive when you saw Steve's face a little more relaxed. He looked back at you and barely gave you a nod before he started walking toward the exit. You turned in your seat to see him, and barely caught a glimpse of Wanda's triumphant face before she hid behind the back of a naive Fury as she saw your gaze on hers.

That woman really had no idea…

The chair Steve was occupying shifted and Bucky appeared in your field of vision. He was looking anywhere in the cafeteria before he was looking at you. And well, that was good, it gave you time to analyze what you had missed in those weeks without any communication.

He clearly looked calmer. Even though you two were forcibly put in an uncomfortable situation, he didn't seem to mind too much. He looked a little tense, you could barely make out a twitch in his jaw, but other than that he was pretty relaxed.

You didn't know how to interpret that.

The last time you had thought about seeing Bucky again (which was that very morning when Natasha brought it up) you thought that one of you would run away without even a second's notice. It seemed that the only one too scared about that reunion was you. Surely Bucky hadn't thought about it for a single moment since the last time you were face to face.

And his hair. He had cut his hair much shorter than last time. Its ends were directed to the ceiling and you could no longer mess it up if you ran your hands through it. It would rearrange itself in seconds. His eyes were still the same, clear and bright as the clear sky, his expression just as stoic and unperturbed, his body leaning slightly to one side with his hands clasped in his lap. Almost everything about him remained the same except for his hair.

And except he couldn't look you in the eye.

You looked down where the tray with the stew was still intact. You didn't have anything else to distract you with so you grabbed a vegetable and popped it in your mouth.

Turning your head away, you missed Bucky's gaze on your face analyzing the grimace of disgust you were trying to hide.

You swallowed hard and grabbed the water bottle so that it almost slipped through your hands. It was empty.

You almost threw up on yourself.

“Are you okay?”

You met his gaze and froze. His wary eyes were on your face.

“Yeah.”

“Doesn't look like that food is good.”

“Because it isn't.”

You shook your head and pushed the tray away from your personal space once and for all.

“Why don't you order something else?”

“Steve already ordered me something.”

“Oh.”

And silence.

You usually enjoyed the quiet moments, when no sound flooded the surroundings other than your own breathing and the ramblings in your head. You could really enjoy your solitude and the quiet it brought with it. But this silence didn't come with solitude, it came with tension, strain, uncertainty.

You didn't know if you felt you should say something or if you felt you should run away. If you stayed you didn't know what to say to him and if you left you didn't know under what excuse.

Bucky's light eyes met yours again after wandering his gaze for a while around the room.

“Wanda's back,” was what he said.

You nodded.

“We came with her this morning.”

“Yes, Steve told me.”

“We don't have to do this, you know.”

His neutral expression turned chaotic for a moment. Then he went back to being unflappable as if nothing.

“We don't have to do what?”

“This. Talk like it's nothing. It's awkward.”

“Ah. You find it awkward?”

You furrowed your brow at his genuine curiosity. For a moment you thought he was being sarcastic, but his eyes detailed your expression intently, waiting for an answer.

“Don't you?”

“Why should I?”

“Can you stop answering with questions, please.”

Bucky averted his gaze. He repeatedly ran his hands over his jeans.

“I'm sorry. If it makes you uncomfortable I'll keep quiet.”

“Still, you don't answer my question.”

“It's not awkward for me,” he finally said, his slightly tilted head pointed in your direction. “It's just normal small talk. Between two people.”

You hummed a nod and your head moved in sync.

“It's easier for you to pretend nothing happened.”

Bucky shook his head, attentive. He narrowed his eyes and it didn't go unnoticed the way you tensed your shoulders as the words left your mouth.

“I never said that.”

“It's just what I can glimpse.”

“What you think you see is not true. I'm not trying to feign insanity.”

“Oh, yeah. I forgot you're an expert at knowing what I think,” the words left you before you could process them and give them the proper filter, and you were sure Bucky had noticed the way your composure wavered for barely a second. If he had, he chose to ignore it.

You saw him twist his lips and lower his gaze, as if he suddenly felt distressed even though he wasn't the one who should be worried about something like that.

“You're angry.”

“And why would I be, according to you?”

“Maybe you were expecting a different reaction from me. You don't like what I'm giving you.”

You let out a laugh. “I never thought arrogant was your type.”

Bucky took in your gesture and mimicked it. Seeing a smile on his face after so long brought back images you thought you had sent far out into the ocean of your mind. Maybe you didn't feel your heart racing as it had so many times before, but you definitely felt something different from the fear and dismay that normally accompanied his memory. Even though you didn't want to accept it, you couldn't help but stretch a little towards that new sensation.

“I was joking. I have no idea why you're mad.”

The small smile on your face disappeared, and you allowed your head to wander down the paths of self-healing and self-improvement. Perhaps it was situations like these that your therapist always referred to. Stealthy confrontations that you usually used to avoid like rain, were the perfect moments to divulge a kind of self-reflection and improvement. To, perhaps, make known the emotions and thoughts you used to suppress and keep to yourself, the reason you had ended up that way to begin with. That was supposed to be what people normally did, to talk about their feelings…

So you just let it out.

“I'm not angry. I think I feel… embarrassed.”

“Embarrassed about what?” Bucky cocked his head to one side, his eyes scrutinizing your face as if trying to figure out if you were being serious or not.

“For confronting you.”

“Me?”

“Yes, Bucky. Here's to having you face me and confirming once again that you were right,” you rolled your eyes and took the moment to look anywhere in the cafeteria but into the blue eyes that wouldn't leave yours. “You were always right, I guess. No one else stood up to me like you did and I still lied to you looking you in the eye, wouldn't you feel the same way?”

The movement he made as he shrugged his shoulders drew your gaze, and met you with such a frightening familiarity that you felt old memories and feelings creeping up from the back of your mind to return to the surface. His calm gaze and tension-free body was what you had always been used to, and at that moment it was what you were seeing.

You didn't know how much you missed him until you saw it again.

“It's possible, yes.”

“The point is, knowing that doesn't make it any less complicated. In fact, it's a little harder to cope with. Being aware of the embarrassment… makes you more embarrassed.”

Bucky let out a short laugh. Your gaze didn't leave the way his corners turned up and then how his shoulders moved and his chest contracted in sync with that laugh. You hadn't noticed until that moment the change in the atmosphere around the two of you, much lighter and cozier, not at all hostile and toxic compared to the last few times you were together after the argument.

Mmm, maybe you were liking all that stuff about therapy. To be honest, up until that point you had discerned very few results, although some were quite important. Like, for example, you were able to keep your mind clear of self-destructive thoughts for longer, or that you could look at your past actions and reflect on them, determining clearly what things you were doing wrong and why it was wrong to do them. And there were many, many of them. Not just with the people around you, but more so with yourself.

However, in that moment, having Bucky in front of you and having been able to not only carry on a conversation for more than a minute with him, but also having been able to admit to him how you had felt and show true regret for what happened, you were able to understand that the change was much bigger than you had initially sized it up to be.

“It's serious. It complicates the process for me. That's why I didn't want to see you.”

He nodded without wiping the smile off his face. You could sense the understanding emanating through his gaze and, by the way he straightened his body, you knew he was going to give voice to the thoughts going through his head. Bucky usually kept his opinion of people to himself, he wasn't one to go around highlighting qualities in others unless he was asked or it was necessary for him to say so. Because of this, you could learn to tell when he was going to keep quiet about it and when he was willing to let it all out.

“Still, if it makes you feel any better, I can see you've come too far. Six months ago you wouldn't have said that to my face. I probably would have heard it from Sam who heard it from Clint when he eavesdropped on some conversation of yours with Wanda.”

You were really glad about what he just said, but…. what the fuck?

“Clint eavesdrops on our conversations?”

Bucky went blank. His features froze and the tension emanating from his body enveloped you both.

“Well… I only heard it once. Clint had said he'd upgraded the device for his hearing and was hearing three times as many things as he should. Among those things, he could hear you talking to Wanda in the next room.”

“I don't believe it.”

“There's nothing to tell you for sure that he did it again.”

“And how long ago was that?”

“Mmm, two years, I think.”

“Did he ever say anything to you?”

Bucky didn't answer for a few seconds, his gaze seemed lost in yours, with a solidity and strength too forceful for your tolerance. You suspected the answer was positive, but received the opposite.

“He only told me what had happened. He never told me if he understood anything he heard.”

“Uhm, you're good at getting out of tight spots.”

He gave you another one of those smiles that felt like home.

“I've had years to practice.”

The silence that followed his words was much more welcoming than before. You seemed to be able to move around the masses of air so freely that all the tension in your body could disappear in a gentle breeze.

“I'm sorry this was uncomfortable for you, but it was good to see you. And hearing you.”

“It wasn't that uncomfortable.”

“You're squeezing your legs under the table.”

You looked down, surprised, though you shouldn't be. Bucky had always been good at reading your body language. It was almost like it was his way of communicating. And yes, you were.

“You rocked from side to side. Your hands never stopped clenching in your lap. You were uncomfortable.”

“Still, I don't regret what I said.”

“I know.”

“Good.”

You had a duel of glances and you longed for that comfort you had been missing for so long. During those almost seven months of barely seeing him and not speaking to him, you had learned to appreciate the little moments in life. And you were surprised to think that before you thought you were living your life as you were doing at that moment, the present, but you were not. You learned the cruel difference between existing and living, and it wasn't hard for you to deduce why you had had such complicated moments in your life some time before.

You had never lived anything. You went through your life as a tourist and many times you weren't even in the picture. You tried so hard and constantly to convince yourself otherwise every day that it ended up tiring you out emotionally, and in the process taking everything out on the one person who tried to reach out to help you.

“Buck!” Steve's exclamation echoed throughout the cafeteria, just on time.

You turned to see him in the doorway, his raised hand gesturing for the man in front of you to follow him. Bucky stood up, but didn't leave before turning a glance at you with a warm smile worthy of summer.

“I hope to keep hearing from you more often.”

“We'll see if you're worth it.”

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the0racl30fd3lphi · 2 years

Text

More than friends, definitely more than lovers x.t. (pt3)

a/n: here is the third and (maybe) final part. y'all ate this up and really loved the first two, and for that i am so thankful for you all! so please, enjoy.

pairing: xavier thorpe x gn!reader

summary: nevermore's favorite tortured couple seems to be back on the mends, the only question, will it work out? are they going to make it through or are they only going to make it worse?

warnings: fluff, angst, love triangle (kinda) light swearing? not much tho, suggestive themes

word count: 2,365

part 1 part 2

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"Hey," he smiled. The way he looked at you made your heart flutter. It was if he couldn't believe you were really there. Like he dreamed of this moment, and now that he has it, he truly couldn't comprehend if it was actually real or not. But it was. And his heart soared at that thought.

Standing there, you made no move to speak. You were waiting for him to say anything first. You wouldn't let yourself fall on your knees for him like your mind told you too. So you looked up right into his eyes, using every method you knew to make him bend to your will.

"Don't give me that look," For the one time in almost a month he looked way from you first.

"What look?" You played dumb.

"That one!" he threw one of his hands up and shook his head. "The one that makes me want to crawl at your feet and start.. begging." He still looked down as he ran his hands through his hear and went to grab for a hair tie. At his point he needed to get all the hair out of his face before he went to rip it all out.

"That sounds pretty nice actually, you should beg." You crossed your arms trying to keep in your anger, whatever was keeping him from apologizing was running your patience thin.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," Xavier kept his head down but kept fiddling with the rings that adorned his slender fingers. "I was an asshole. You deserved much more than what I gave you. The last thing I should've done was.. what I did."

He was hesitant to actually acknowledge that he ignored you, his best friend of years, for a girl who genuinely gave him little to zero attention, got him arrested and imprisoned, and who wasn't actually into him after she led him on for so long.

"Oh yes and please, remind what it was that you did?" Now your anger was quite literally smoke blowing out of your ears. You missed this guy? He's wanted this little meeting for so long and he can't even commit to it.

"Well I-" He stuttered.

"Oh my god you can't even admit to it! You make me so frustrated!" You were yelling straight in his face now.

"Like, sexually?" This skinny little twink had the audacity to make a joke about your rage and start laughing at his own jokes.

"Why did I even entertain this stupid idea.." You pushed your headphones back onto your head and started for the stairs.

"Okay wait, wait hold up!" Xavier grabbed onto your arm and pulled you back towards him. With one slick movement he pulled them down to rest around your neck, and slid his hands down your arms to grab your hands. He stroked the back of your hands with thumbs smoothly.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have left you like that. I ignored you, abandoned you, treated you so horribly for how much more you actually deserve. So please, if you find me deserving," Xavier got down on one knee, hand still in yours, and looked up at you with those big green eyes. "Forgive me, lets go back to what we were, and I will be forever at your mercy."

"Wow. Poetic. You write now?" You tilted your head at him and raised your brows so far, they almost disappeared into your hair. But the corners of your mouth can't help but lift.

"I dabble," his smile grew four times as large and made your stomach flip, in the good way.

"How about you dabble in being a better friend?" You laughed and pulled him up by the hand he was still holding. You weren't sure if he still realized but neither of you had let go yet.

Playfully, and to diffuse some of the lingering tension, you lightly shoved him and walked back up the stairs to leave this spooky little library. He laughed and followed after quickly, skipping two steps as he jumped up the stairs.

"Aye aye, captain."

——————————————————————————

It'd been a week since you and Xavier started talking again, he was attached at your hip. He worshiped the ground you walked on and to an extent it was hilarious. Beyond that you ate it up. This was as close to the attention you have craved from him for years as you were gonna get.

"See, now at this point I don't know if he's whipped or if you are," Val rolled from her desk, all the way to you at yours. One look at the polaroid's littered all over your desk, extra drawings, some pinned while some hidden, and soon she gagged.

"Shut up," You pushed her head off your shoulder but you couldn't push the smile off your face. Your eyes couldn't leave the most recent polaroid pinned on your mirror, written underneath "idiots in love" because Val thought she was the funniest bitch in the world. The photo itself was from a movie night you had with the whole group. Xavier and you had fallen asleep on the couch, not that close to each other, but close enough to have reached for each other subconsciously. Ajax snapped the photo and after your best friend wrote all over it he gave it to you later when people weren't paying attention and everything had died down.

"Why don't you just tell him you love him?" Val grabbed a pen from your desk and start drawing all over your hand and your forearm.

"I just got him back, I can't lose him again." You sighed and pushed up your sleeve and gave her more access room. Val stopped short for a minuet to look up into your eyes. She could read you like a poorly written magazine. It was in your eyes, everything she needed to know.

The desperation, the longing, the aching, she had to take a softer approach with you otherwise you'd break. Not that you were fragile, but you were.

"Sometimes you have to take risks, you'll never know if you don't try babe." Her hand came up to hold and stroke your cheek, "You should try. Isn't the risk of a love so great it'd go down in history, worth it?"

And it was if your love was a force so large, bound by gravity's thick lasso, you were pulled towards him. Unable and unwilling to stop yourself.

"Yeah, it is."

——————————————————————————

You realized some new things after talking to Val that night. Love made you poetic, you were up all night thinking about how your words were not your own, but merely fragments of the words he had given your soul to sing.

Oh god you were pathetic. So you did the only levelheaded thing you could do, tell Xavier everything and be rational later.

He was in his art shed late at night, music quietly pushing through the walls and finding their way thought every crevice. You pounded on the door and waited for him to open the door. You fiddled with the scarf that rested around your neck while you waited. After not hearing anything for a while you knocked again, louder this time.

Soon enough he opened the door and turned down the music when he saw you, "Hey, what's up?" He grabbed your hand and pulled you through the doorway and close it behind you.

"Xavier, look-" You cut yourself off after taking a glace around the shed. There was a painting, or a charcoal sketch, or a character study of you. Everywhere. Every 3 square feet, to be exact. "It's me?"

He laughed nervously, "Uh yeah." A hand came up to scratch and then readjust his still wet hair. "The distance kinda drove me mad, and you were some good inspiration." One new thing and your relationship with Xavier, he told you everything now. Full, and total, transparency. The music kept playing in the background and the low lighting provided the most insane ambiance for the possibly stupid decision you were about to make.

"Xavier I need to tell you something," You shed your scarf and sweater and placed it on the nearest chair. "It's really important." You looked into his eyes and all the words seemed to have magically left your mind, as well as all logical thought.

The way he was looking at you, sat on the edge of a nearby desk, arm propped up behind him to keep him steady. "Mhm?" He asked so innocently it drove you mad.

"I love you." You bit the bullet and spouted all the words that had been building up for quite literal ages. He flushed such a bright red it almost matched the color of his shirt.

"Y-You're my best friend," You cut him off by shaking your head vigorously.

"No. No no, Xavier, I love you." You'd never seen him so quiet. Blinking, adam's apple bobbing in his throat as if it was like swallowing was all he could do.

You rushed up to him and grabbed the side of his face, gently but eagerly attaching his lips to yours. You gave him time to respond, to push you off, to pull you closer, to do anything, and when nothing came you pulled away. Faces inches from each other all you did was stare in his eyes. So disheartened, you started to move backwards.

Xavier stood to his full height now and pulled you closer to him, both of his hands now up and resting on your face. His hands were so big they traced your jawline and caressed the side of your neck. Both of your mouths now moving slowly and sensually against each others. You brought up your hands to rest your palms against the back of his, a soft grip warming your hands and hearts.

Eventually oxygen was needed so you had to pull away. His hands stayed in place and yours only gripped his harder. Eye contact kept between you two mixed with the sound of your lungs greedily pulling air in and out. Smile crept up your faces and you started laughing. Both of you could barely grasp what was happening, all you knew was that you genuinely were never happier.

Following his arms your hands moved to the back of his neck, and his fell down to your waist. Years of pent up pining had come to this. Naturally you two became greedy. Panting and grabbing at each other for more. Your arm went pull around his neck and your other hand grabbed a fistful of his hair pulling and tugging. When you pulled a little too hard and a low groan escaped his mouth into yours, and the grip on your waist tightened, and you could feel his fingers digging into your skin, you only wanted more.

Things got desperate and hot fast. Xavier lowered his hands ever so slightly to creep up underneath your shirt and his cold palms set something afire in you. The simple touch of his skin on yours made you gasp, and he took the opportunity to explore your mouth with his tongue.

Almost as soon as it had started, he started pulling away. "Wait, love wait," he pulled away from you and pushed the hair out of your face while studying it with his eyes.

"Did I do something?" Insecurity started to fill you as now you had a chance to think, though your mind was foggy.

"Do something? No, my girl you could never," He stroked the side of your face and pressed his forehead against yours. "Do you really mean this?"

"Sure would be real stupid if I didn't, huh?" You laughed and ran a hand through his hair. You two just took a minute to look in each others eyes, to take it all in.

"I love you." Xavier repeated back to you.

"I mean I'd hope so, that would suck if you didn't," Very quickly you returned to humor as your coping mechanism. He shook his head and pressed one more quick kiss to your lips.

"Ask me the stupid question already," You smiled and grabbed his hands.

"Y'know, patience is a virtue," He started tracing the veins on your hands. You looked at him and tugged on his arms gently. "Will you be my partner?" He tilted his head at the end of the question, what a bottom.

"No."

"What?"

"I'm joking, shut up and kiss me," You giggled and wrapped your arms around his neck.

"Yes ma'am," He leaned back in and captured your lips with his.

——————————————————————————

When you got back to your dorm that night, lips swollen with a few hickeys poorly hidden by your poorly applied scarf, Val raised her eyebrows and immediately sat you down to talk. You spent hours that night going over it, every detail you could recall. Which was every single detail.

Into the late hours of the night, Val eventually fell sleep right next to you, face smashed into your pillow and a light snore escaping her lips every few minutes. Your blanket was pulled over her and you stared at the ceiling, too giddy to fall asleep just yet. Xavier had already texted you "i love you" and "goodnight my love <3" Of course you responded and you stared at your new home and lock screen, a photo of you and Xavier on a weekend trip to Jericho.

Then, at the genuine ass crack of dawn as the sun started rising, you remembered a promise you had made him years ago, when you were still young.

"I promise, I'll prove to them your heart beats the same way as theirs."

And you couldn't help but think you'd done it. He was so very capable of love and you only helped bring that out in him. Whatever the future had in store for you, you could handle it now. At least now with Xavier at your side you can.

Who could've ever imagined that you would've fallen so deeply in love with this boy? Against all odds, it seems, you found yourself inexplicably drawn to him. Infatuated like a poor man, and completely at his mercy.

——————————————————————————

@animesimp3456 @iovaki @navs-bhat @hellllloooosstuff @555stargirl555 @quinn165 @raeboo @heehooyeslol @leyseyb @aunicornmademedoit @regulus-black-223048 @o-the-o-grim-o-reaper-o @pagesfalling @fanfictioniseverything @trickylittlewitch @baziutawrites @mxltifxnd0m @l-3rk @gumballsglassofmilk @bloodyziggy @ur-mom-is-h0t

#xavier thorpe #xavier x reader #xavier thorpe x reader #wednesday #imagine #fluff #making up #xavier thorpe imagine #xavier thorpe angst #xavier thorpe wednesday #xavier thorpe fanfic #xavier thorpe x gn!reader #xavier thorpe x you #wednesday series

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gukkfilm · 22 days

Text

out with the old and in with the new (part 1)

summary: the complete history of liv morgan and dominik mysterio

(lowercase intended.)

sometime between march and april of 2022 - a conversation between liv 4 brutality

“Dominik is so cute.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yes! You don’t think so?”

“No, he’s not really my type.”

“I think he’s really cool!”

“You have some kind of crush on him or something?”

“I mean yeah?”

“Have you ever even talked to him before?”

“Well no, but we follow each other on social media! He seems so genuine and down to earth. I wanna get to know him, but he’s dating his high school sweetheart. I don’t wanna be disrespectful. That’s why I haven’t made a move.”

“You have a crush on Dominik Mysterio.”

“Uh, yes.”

“Huh. Interesting.”

———————————————————————————————

april 18th, 2022 - monday night raw

Liv really doesn’t understand how it all went wrong. She doesn’t get it. They were doing so well! How is it Liv’s fault they lost! They are a tag team! It’s supposed to be both of them! Liv and Rhea. L4B. But now. Now it’s just Liv. Rhea threw everything they had in the trash. For nothing. Yes they were only a team for a month. But they were friends. Maybe even more. And now. Liv would get her revenge.

“Hey, are you okay?” Liv looked up from the crate she was sitting on to see Dominik Mysterio looking down at her, concern in his eyes. “Do you need to see medical?”

“N-No I uh, I..I saw them already.” Liv was star struck. She didn’t know what else to say. She was already stuttering like an idiot. Dom nodded. “I’m sorry about what happened with Rhea. What she did was uncalled for.”

Liv stared at him eyes wide. “T-thanks.” She could t believe he was even talking to her. “No problem. Hey, listen don’t let the rage consume you. Things will get better. If you ever wanna talk I��m here.”

Liv’s lip started to wobble and tears pooled in her eyes. He was so fucking sweet, he didn’t even know her and yet… “Thank you.” She whispered and bit her lip to try and stop the tears.

Dom smiled and Liv’s heart almost burst out of her chest. “Anytime blondie.”

———————————————————————————————

june 5th, 2022 - hell in a cell

“Well that did not go according to plan” Liv says as Aj, Finn, and her walk back to their locker room. Losing was never ideal. Finn had this look on his face. Liv knew it was his plotting face. He was planning something and Liv could tell it wasn’t gonna be good. “Liv! Finn! Aj! Wait up!” They all stop and turn around to see Dominik Mysterio running up to them.

“Oh! Hi Dominik” Liv responds while putting her hands behind her back and swaying back and forth, smiling up at him. His eyes go wide as he blushes and gives her a goofy grin. “U-um hey” Liv chuckles and stares at him intensely, smile still plastered on her face. Finn and Aj roll their eyes at the obvious flirting. “I just wanted to say that I watched your guys match. And even tho you guys lost I think you all did super well and looked so cool as a group.”

Liv’s heart fluttered and her smile grew as she chuckled. “Hehe thanks Dominik. That really means a lot coming from you.” Liv felt her cheeks heat up as her and Dom locked eyes and gazed at each other for thirty seconds. Dom’s cheeks grew red as Finn cleared his throat to get their attention. Liv shook her head as she fell out of her trance. “Thanks Dominik” Aj said.

“Yeah we appreciate it mate.” Finn clapped him on the back. Dom smiled big and met Liv’s eyes again before looking away and speaking. “Anyways I-i have to go! See your guys later!” Liv waved as he walked away. “Bye Dominik.” She said in a sickly sweet tone.

“Your cheeks are gonna be stuck like that if you don’t stop soon.” Aj said as him and Finn laughed. Liv’s smile dropped and was replaced with a deep frown. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She said turning back around to once again head to the locker room.

“Liv ask him out already.” Aj said. Liv’s heart sank. “I can’t. He has a girlfriend. They’re high school sweethearts. It doesn’t matter how much I like him. I’m not a home wreaker.”

———————————————————————————————

june 6th. 2022

———————————————————————————————

july 18th, 2022 - money in the bank

She did it!! She cashed in on Rhonda Rousey!! She was the NEW Smackdown Women’s Champion!! Liv was crying as she got congrats from the officials and other superstars waiting in the guerilla. She was led to go take another set of renders, now with the championship instead of the brief case. She thanked the photographers and started walking to her locker room. When she was almost there she heard yelling coming from one of the other locker rooms. Just as she stopped one of the doors opened.

“¡Jefe! ¡Déjeme en paz! ¡Necesito estar solo ahora mismo! ¡Te veré en el hotel!” Liv looked up and saw Dominik Mysterio emerge from the locker room no longer in his ring gear. He pulled his suit case through the arch and adjusted his backpack as he slammed the door shut. In his rage he wasn’t paying attention and almost bumped into Liv. “Oh hey Liv! Sorry, I didn’t see you there.” He looked sheepish.

“Hey Dom! It’s fine. Are you okay? Sorry about your match.” Liv said trying to show her sorrow for him. He gave her a half smile. “It’s okay, thank you tho. But hey congrats to you!! The belt looks good on you!!” He blushed.

Liv smiled and looked down at her feet so he wouldn’t see her blush. “Thanks” Liv liked to think they could be considered friends now. They texted a lot, liked each other’s photos on social media, and they interacted when they saw each other in passing. The last time they saw each other tho was the day of the draft. His girlfriend had been there to support him.

That was the one and only time she had ever seen Marie. She seemed really nice and she was gorgeous too. “Hey um..how’s Marie?” Liv asked trying to make small talk. She really didn’t want to talk about Marie, but she couldn’t think of anything else to say. Dom stiffened. Liv noticed the shift in his body language and looked up. He had a grimace on his face and he wasn’t meeting her gaze. “She…uh…we broke up three months ago.” Liv’s eyes widened.

“Oh my god Dom, I’m so sorry. Sorry for brining it up!!” Shit. Now she felt bad. “No it’s okay, you didn’t know. We haven’t really told anyone.” He looked so upset. She reached out and grabbed his hands in hers. He looked down at their hands and then at Liv. “If you ever need someone to talk to, I’m here for you.” He smiled. “Thanks güerita. Might have to take you up on that.”

Güerita. Liv blushed. He’s so cute. She was brought back by the sound of her phone going off. She let go of his hands, moved her title to one shoulder and checked her phone.

“Oh, sorry Dom one sec! Hello?”

“GIO!!!!! CONGRATS GIRLIE IM SO PROUD OF YOU!!” Bayley screamed into her ear causing Liv to move the phone away from her ear. Dom chuckled and Liv smiled at him. “Hi Bayley thank you!!!”

“WHERE ARE YOU?!” Liv moved to put the call on speaker.

“Uh still at the venue, just finished taking my new renders with the title. I was about to go change but I ran into Dominik so we started talking. Why?”

“OOOOO OKAY WELL WE’RE ALL GONNA GO OUT AND CELEBRATE SO YOU BETTER GET YOUR LITTLE BUTT READY AND MEET US IN THE FRONT! MERCEDES RENTED A PARTY BUS!! AND BRING DOM WITH YOU!”

And the call ended. “How did they get a party bus on such short notice?” Dom said shocked. Liv laughed. “I have no clue, but it’s Mercedes so I’m not surprised.” Dom laughed.

“Hey why’d she call you Gio?” Liv looked up at him. “Oh Gionna is my actual first name. Olivia is my middle name, I just go by that for the fans cause it’s easier.” Dom gave a little ‘oh’ noise and nodded his head. “Gionna’s a really beautiful name.”

Liv blushed hard. “T-thank you. A-Anyway, you wanna come?” Liv moved a piece of her hair behind her ear and Dom watched the movement. “You can get away from your dad for a while and just party.” Dominik stared at her as she adjusted the title on her shoulder and flipped her hair behind her.

“Are you sure that’s okay? I wouldn’t wanna intrude.” He said scratching the back of his head. “You heard Bayley, she said to bring you, and I’d really like it if you came. We’ve never really got to hang before, plus we’re on different brands so we barely get to see each other anyways.” She looked up at him hopefully. Fuck. She is so gorgeous. There was absolutely no way Dominik could say no to her.

———————————————————————————————

july 25th to august 1st 2022

august 8th, 2022

———————————————————————————————

september 3rd, 2022

Liv walked into the guerilla after her match against Shayna on cloud nine. She was honestly not 100% positive she could beat Shayna, but she did and she’s ecstatic. And then she wants to throw up because Rhea Fucking Ripley and the rest of the judgment day are right there. Getting ready to go out for their match. Rhea sees her and she can see the steam coming off of her. Liv gives her the finger. Priest holds Rhea back as she tries to pounce on Liv. Bitch.

Then she locks eyes with Finn. She grinds her teeth together and scowls at him as he gives her a pleading look. Her only reply is a roll of her eyes as she walks away. As she leaves the guerilla area she sees dom, rey, and edge heading towards it. Dom looks lost in thought. A smile breaks out on her face. “Dom!” She yells and he snaps out of whatever trance he was in and sees her. His eyes widen and he stiffens but she doesn’t notice this. Instead she runs to him. “Mijo, Edge y yo seguiremos adelante. Nos reuniremos contigo allí.”

Edge and Rey walk away and Dom focuses back on Liv. The white gear she had on right now looks so good on her body. She looks fucking gorgeous. “Congrats on retaining. I knew you could do it.” He says smiling. Liv notices it doesn’t quite reach his eyes like his smiles usually do. “Thanks!! I’ll be watching your guys match too! I wanted to wish you good luck!”

Dom frowns. “I’m not in the match.”

“Well I know that silly, but you’re gonna be out there supporting your dad and edge!! I can come with to help keep Rhea in check if you want!” Dom’s eyes widen. “No! Uh no that’s okay. I-i know you must be exhausted. I can handle it.”

Liv frowned, caught off guard by his outburst. “Well okay, I’ll go then.” She’s about to walk away but makes a split second decision that she hopes she doesn’t regret. She pulls Dominik into a hug and holds him tight, squeezing her eyes shut as she does so. Dom stands frozen for a few seconds before he wraps his arms around her. “Good luck” she whispers into his ear before she kisses him on the cheek and turns to walk away.

Dom catches her wrist. “Wha-” She gets cut off by him pulling her back to his chest and kissing her full on the mouth. Liv stands wide eyed for a full five seconds before she melts into the kiss. Her arms wrapped around his waist and his hands holding her face. He pulls away after a minute and they rub their noses together before resting their foreheads together. “I’m sorry.” He whispers. Beefore Liv can ask why he’s sorry, he pulls away and walks towards guerilla. “Dom!” She calls after him but he just keeps walking and doesn’t look back.

Later, she watches as he betrays edge. As he betrays his father. She sees the judgment day laughing. Sees Finn laughing. She doesn’t think he’s acting anymore. She’s pretty sure he’s fully in the darkness now. She doesn’t know what to do now. She understands why he apologized after their kiss, and her heart cracks.

———————————————————————————————

november to february 2023

On Raw, she watches as he comes out to confront Edge and Rey. He looks so…different. So not Dominik. She honestly doesn’t recognize him anymore. And that bitch is all over him. “I’ve made him into a man.” Yeah right.

He won’t answer her calls or texts anymore. He doesn’t like her posts either. She watches him and Rhea, and each thing they do together causes another crack in Liv’s heart. Rhea doesn’t even like him. She’s doing this to hurt Liv, she knows this for a fact. Before initiating any sort of pda, Rhea always looks to see if Liv is there and if she’s watching. Obviously she plays it up for the fans. But Liv knows the truth. She hides sometimes so Rhea doesn’t see her, and she watches as Dom tries to hug her or hold her hand and Rhea won’t let him. She won’t let him initiate anything. Only Rhea’s allowed to do that. And the way she talks to him behind closed doors. It’s terrible. Liv doesn’t get why Dom stays with her. Why he tries so hard to get her approval. Why he needs it so bad.

She’s finds Dom alone in catering one day and she tries to say hi. She waves at him and smiles when he meets her gaze. He gives her a deadpan look, devoid of any emotions. He just looks like a hollow shell. He gets up, walks towards where she is and brushes right past her. Tears start to form in Liv’s eyes and she bites her lip to stop them from falling.

———————————————————————————————

march 3rd, 2023

Rhea won the rumble. She’s been coming to smackdown because she’s challenging Charlotte Flair at Wrestlemania. Rhea and Liv had a match today. Rhea used the prism lock to tap her out. Dom just stood there and watched. Cheering Rhea on. Liv’s heart fully shattered during that match. Why did he kiss her if he was just going to break her heart?

———————————————————————————————

april to july 2023

She gets drafted back to raw. She wins tag team gold with Raquel. She’s doing okay. She still thinks about Dom and Finn. She still texts them sometimes. They don’t reply. Raquel is helping her heal. They date for a bit. They’re better off as friends. Liv just isn’t really in a good headspace for dating right now.

The next time she gets involved in business with Rhea is four months after their last match. She’s defending her title against Nattie and after she wins she continues to brutalize her. Liv and Raquel run out to save her. Rhea slips out the ring before they get there.

She did tell them to stay out of her business. They should’ve stayed out of her business. She attacks Raquel and Liv back stage. They’re supposed to defend their titles against Sonya and Chelsea tonight. Rhea took out Raquel’s leg. So Liv defends the titles herself. And she loses. Later that night, Liv goes out to the ring while the judgment day is having their tag team title shot and attacks Rhea.

They next monday they get scheduled to have a match. Liv is nervous, but she’s hoping that if she can win then maybe she can have an opportunity at the title. That isn’t gonna happen tho. Rhea attacks Liv on her way to the ring. Rhea tears Liv’s shoulder apart with a steel chair. Officials and medical personal rush out to help Liv. Rhea pushes through them and stomps on her arm with the chair again.

The doctors say she needs surgery. They say she’ll be gone for seven months. Seven. Fucking. Months.

When she gets a hold of her phone, she finds messages from all her friends. Wishing condolences. There’s one from Finn too.

There’s one from Dom too.

Rhea Ripley was going to fucking pay. She took her brother away from her. She took the guy she liked away from her. She took her best friend away from her. Now she took her fucking arm and seven months of her career. This was the final fucking straw. Liv was gonna get the surgery, she was gonna go to therapy and work her way back to being in ring ready. And when she came back?

She was gonna take everything from Rhea Ripley. Every thing Rhea loved would be hers.

to be continued…

pt 2 (maybe, we’ll see.)

#wwe #livdom #dominik mysterio #liv morgan #finn balor #damian priest

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serrybluesoul · 9 months

Text

SONIC PRIME SEASON 3 SPOILERS BELOW !!!

ok i think i have my thought sorted a little now after watching the third season and i need to mention a few things !!

THE AMYS ACTING AND CALLING THEMSELVES SISTERS WAS A DYNAMIC I NEVER KNEW I NEEDED

Mangey slamming his head against the controls of the robot to make it work took me out I laughed so hard

DREAD IS ALSO BACK BEING HIS OLD SELF THANK GOD

Sonic !! And Shadow's dynamic !! They work so well together and I enjoy looking at them fight !!

Sonic doing some emotes and references to old games again is wonderful

Shadow just being so done with Sonic sometimes but still sticks to his side to save his butt

This scenes. Just this scene.

Sonic being utterly shocked when Nine created a robot from Big. I enjoy Sonic's genuine friendship to Big, even when we barely see it because he cares for the big guy a lot.

NINE !! GOD I LOVE HOW NINE HAS BEEN WRITTEN THANK GOD THEY STICKED THROUGH WITH THIS we so badly needed a Tails who flips the way he did

And the whole fight scenes were SO incredible and nice to look at GOOD JOB AT THE ANIMATIONS !! The characters felt SO alive and I genuniely enjoyed watching them all fight !!

Even the Council was rather nice these last few episodes, tho I'm glad they're gone for good

Shadow saving Sonic *chiefs kiss*

Sonic being absolutely glad and happy that he found Shadow again god they care for each other so much.

All the Rouges. They were amazing.

Froggy.

ALSO WHERE THE HELL IS THE CHARACTER JACKSEPTICEYE VOICE ACTED ??? HE CLIMBED UP TO GET THE PRISM AND WAS NEVER SEEN AGAIN ???

Shadow's ' I'M THE ULTIMATE LIFE FORM ' always hits

THE MUCH NEEDED HUG BETWEEN SONIC AND NINE AWWWW

SOMETHING feels like it's missing but I can't really pinpoint what it is. It felt a bit ... Unfinished at the end, but maybe because it's supposed to be in the 'original Sonic timeline' and canon. Even tho I can't tell exactly where.

Considering we have Cubot and Orbot it might be after Sonic Colors. But that's all I can really say about it.

All in all ? I enjoyed Sonic Prime. A lot. We needed a show which felt this alive and the animations of it were top notch. I'll be sad we won't have another season of it anymore but maybe we get a new series with a similar style.

And even tho he isn't liked by most of the community, I love Prime Sonic. He may be dumb and barely reads the air correctly: He felt like 'Sonic' to me, to be honest. 💙

Thank you, Sonic Prime 💙

#sonic prime spoilers #sonic prime #sonic #sonic the hedgehog #Thank you Sonic Prime 💙

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clemkruckinnie · 1 year

Note

HI! just finished reading your nami fics, and dude I literally live them sm😭😭❤

please give us more nami fics ! we need them 😪

maybe nami x f r

where it's just domestic fluff really (the tangerine one was so cute we need more like that😭)

maybe cuddles (facing each other) and hugs! r being shorter than her tho if u add any description bc that's so cute

BUT THIS IS ONLY A SEGUESTION PLS JUST WRITE FOR NAMI😭😭😭

thank you can't wait to read any other nami fics🤭

angel of the morning- nami x reader

(slight allusions to smut again LMFAO)

nami’s never considered herself much of a religous person. if she believed in heaven, she’d have to believe in god, and everything else that comes with it.

but if she did believe in all that, she’d swear she was in heaven right now. your sleeping form in front of her, early rays of sunlight peeking in, shining on your face. that’s what eventually wakes you up, (e/c) eyes focusing in on the bright blue ones watching you.

“mornin’, baby.” nami greets you, brushing a piece of hair away from your face. you smile, putting your hand over hers, holding it to your face and leaning into her touch.

“good morning.” you greet her sleepily. “how long have you been up?”

nami shrugs, genuinely not knowing. watching you tended to blur hours and minutes together for her, all the time in the world not feeling like enough to take in your beauty. “everyone else is still asleep. it’s just us.”

“we better rest up before luffy wakes up.” you tell her. “not a moment of peace with that one.”

nami laughs softly, nodding. “turn around.”you oblige, nami scooting in behind you, putting an arm around your waist to pull you close. “better?”’

you nod, blissful and content. “better.”

nami smiles, tangling her legs with yours as she closes her eyes again. just before she’s about to drift back off, a door slams open down the hall from her.

“good morning, crew!” luffy’s voice booms, the two of you groaning sleepily as he makes his way down the hall, still talking about something or another.

“nami, y/n! wake up! sanji’s making breakfast—sanji! don’t fall back asleep, cmon!”

“i wonder what it’s like having that much energy.” you marvel, sitting up in bed. you run a hand through your messy hair, trying to keep it from falling back in your face.

“here,” nami offers you her bandana from her bedside table.

“can you tie it for me?” nami obliges, taking a moment to admire her handiwork when she’s done.

“prettiest pirate on the sea.” nami marvels, heat rising to your cheeks.

“you’re tied with me.” you counter. nami leans in, pressing a sweet, loving kiss to your lips. just as you’re about to lean back in, there are three more raps at your door.

“okay guys! he’s up for real this time! sanji, come on, i’m—we’re hungry!”

the two of you walk hand in hand to the kitchen, sleepy as ever, but content. there are two cups of tea already set out, sanji being used to you two waking up first. nami leans her head into your shoulder as you sip yours, you resting your head on top of hers.

“could you two at least wait till noon before making the rest of us feel single?” sanji teases you, laying out the ingredients for breakfast.

“never.” nami deadpans. “you’ll see, you get a girlfriend like this, you won’t want to be apart from her either.”

“oh, the rest of us know just how much you don’t want to be apart from her.” zoro chimes in, taking his own mug and sitting across from you two. “didn’t i just talk to you two about how thin these walls are?”

“what’s wrong with the walls?” luffy asks, not catching on to zoro’s implication.

“nothing-“

“oh, PLEASE tell him.” sanji laughs, nami scowling before she whips her head back around to zoro. “don’t you DARE-“

“well, luffy, when two people love each other very much-“

“zoro-“

“if i have to suffer through it-“

you watch the two of them bicker, their voices increasing in annoyance while luffy’s face grows in confusion, and amidst all the chaos, you laugh.

mornings on the going merry with your friends and girlfriend couldn’t get better.

#one piece #one piece netflix #one piece imagine #nami #nami x reader

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ruanais · 6 months

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A ANOUNCEMENT !!! EDITED : I’m not gonna deactivate it cause I just realised I’m too attached to this blog help-

hello !! I’m here to make a important announcement <3 so !! okay this might come as a shock, but I will be leaving @/ruanais ( a few days later cause I need time to clean things up ) !! T-T I’m really sorry but I simply don’t have the time or dedication to this blog anymore :( every single one I’ve ever met on this account was rlly nice esp my mutals and I’m so glad I got to meet every one of you <3

@silverbladexyz : gosh, we’ve been mutals for quite a while Huh ? I’m so grateful to you even tho we don’t rlly talk much anymore sihdjsjdjsjahhsjsj thank u for being with me after all this time !! :D

@justcallmesakira : we haven’t talked tooo much but I’m happy to have met you !! your works are amazing and I hope you’ll continue to grow <3 mwah !

@yuukimiyas : I’ve always looked up to you as one of my favourite writers so imagine my surprise when you followed me !! :0 your posts always make me rlly happy !! :D

@chuuyrr : I’ve always loved ur chuuya’s fics and they’re just so ??????? they’re my meal for three times a day Frfr !! :3

@sinmalssimp : raven, I’m really proud of you for being able to be so strong <3 you’re going amazing and I hope you’ll have a amazing life !!

@yuutx : thank u for being my mutal for so so long as well !!!!! you’re such a nice and kind person and you’re like a younger sister to me <3

@gojoath : cella !! omfg ur one of the people who managed to get me back into jujutsu kaisen T^T ur works r absolutely gorgeous and ur yuta series ?!?!???? chef’s kiss -///-

@vrachis : one of my og mutals ever since I started tumblr ! :3 also thank u for getting me into v tubers cause now im watching their streams whenever I can LMAO

@aureatchi : you and red are never ever going to beat the twin allegations tbh, even the abilities u suggested to me were the same so :3 and even ur names are similar :0 anyways ! rev, thank u for being my mutal !! you’re genuinely so so so nice and T^T ur like a younger sister to me as well <3

@cheriiyaya : red, you’re just like reverie so it’s like copy and paste except that youre more chaotic and I love your energy !!! i always laugh whenever I see ur url cause of that meme- fjdjjsjskjsj lol but you’re a younger sister too so !!! :D but yeah, I loved having convos with u !! you’re such a easy perosn to ramble to and thank you for listening to my thoughts that make no sense whatsoever !!

@rusmii : ruru !! firstly !! congratulations on 600+ honey !! you’re almost there to 1k aahhh !! we haven’t talked much but you’re such a nice person as well :(

@culturity : kady, ur such a sweetheart tbh and I always feel happy whenever I see ur posts on my dash <3 I hope that everything goes well for you in life cause you deserve it !!

@m0uchie : EMI !! you’re rlly nice and I light up whenever I see u in my inbox or notifs sjsjsbsksjjssjs I rlly wished we talked more tbh :( but we still had fun together <3

@riiwrites : riri you’re one of the people I’m closest to on tumblr and I’m so so happy I got to meet such a amazing and kind person as u !! thank u sm for everything honey !!

@beasalmeh : okay !! you’re a rlly chaotic and goofy person that I love to talk to !! seeing your messages always make my day and it’s so fun to have a conversation with you :D

@dazaisslave : ichika, you’re such a sweet friend to me and I dont and never did deserve someone like you :( thank u for everything <3

for the other mutals I didn’t add cause I’m a lazy fuck or we didn’t talk much or just became mutals so I don’t know anything abt u or we are mutals but we haven’t talked in a long time so it would be awkward + my dear followers : thank you as well ! all of you helped me in my growth as cringy as it sounds lmao sibdjshsjsjdj I could never ever have gotten to 100+ followers without u guys and I’m genuinely gonna miss u guys so fucking much :(

— ur dearest rua <3

also u guys, surprise announcement I’m not single anymore <: ur girl rua got a bf !!!!!! ahem !! but yeah !! hehe :3 I fulfilled one of my dreams !!!!!!! :D I CAN FINALLY TELL MY FRIENDS IM SOMEONE WHO GETS BITCHES 😍 /j

Navigation

#BUT OMFG #IM GONNA MISS U GIYS #I WAS SOBBINV A RIVER WRITING THIS :(#AUGH #LEMME CRY IN A CORNER #I WANTED TO RAMBLE SM ABT MY BF IN HERE BUT RUANAIS ERA HAS ENDED D:#BUT THABK YOU #:(#sobs #lets meet if I ever have another account when I get out of this hell called uni

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tiny-sassy-aggressive · 7 months

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DAN AND PHIL REACT TO PHAN TWITTER REACTIONS w/ timestamps

.03 sir please don’t crack your hands in my ears.

.11 way to early in the video for a phude Jumpscare

.16 DIP AND PIP ?!!!??

.26 tbh shoutout to Phil for acknowledging that even tho we have fan accounts, not everything we say, create, post is something we would want them to see. Love the self awareness. Appreciate the space he provides

.35 rip Dan memes and tumblr tags

.56 I actually needed to be told I am gorgeous and intelligent, I knows it’s fake but it’s nice to hear even if fake

1.37 WHY IS HE **** ********* THE MIC N O NO NO NO NO WHAT??????

2.08 chill Phil we weren’t gonna fight about it. You’re Edward… OKAY

2.25 how many times are they going to watch pinof 1 ! Babes you can do that anytime you want not just on camera

2.37 Phil is in FULL CRISIS realizing how messy he is as if they haven’t already talked about this before

3.09 TUMBLR NEVER LEFT. YOU LEFT.

3.29 the synced lean in as they discovered the dan has something in his teeth bit was a video

3.40 SO SO SO GLAD THE SOCK VIDEO MADE IT. AND HES ACKNOWLEDGING

3.46 SHOES SOCK VIDEO JUMPS ARE😭😭😭

4.24 “keep reading” oh goodness that. Sir. Okay.

4.44 hi just realized is Dan wearing a muscle tank under the see through shirt????? Side note. Want the see through shirt

5.03 FANTASTIC FOURSOME JUMPDVARE

6.14 NO DAN NOT KATE THEY ARE LISTENINF. DONT BECOME INVOLVED IN ANOTHER ROYAL CONSPIRACY

7.41 absolutely fire meme. I laughed so loud I actually had to pause the video. Worst part? I had already reposted on twt yet still reacted to it

8.05 he is staring into my soul. Hell how is he staring THROUGH my soul

9.17 no words. “It’s not a bad look” alakakakak???

9.22 So suddenly it’s not “we” anymore, huh?

9.53 rip Phil’s slit😫

10.08 I just through Dan making a joke then immediately hitting Phil to let him know he was joking was really funny. Stuff I do with my friends I am tactile

11.46 I ALWAYS thought that image was edited to have all of them. I didn’t realize it was a real photos

12.38 OH MY FOS????? JUMPSVARE WHAT THE HELL

12:45 those pounds weee so aggressive. It sounded like they really hurt. I’m hurt listening

12:46 Phil is watching that monitor like a HAWK he is NOT losing monetization bc Dan wants to wap

13.00 Phil saw and saved this and nobody knew. He lurks. Nobody is safe.

13:36 about nine “what can I say”s in. Dan has a genuine look of terror and confusion. He looks like he’s playing up his reaction a bit in the beginning, laughing and stuff and acting annoyed but this point is genuine horror and realization. This is so gold. Will be giffing later. Also precious Phil

14.50 okay the editing kinda memes his monologue a bit but i was high key inspired. He’s so wrote. Everything is a story that must be concluded. I love that thought process. Clearly bc I am also a grade a yapper but still

15:50 oh the immediate IMMEDIATE regret in Phil’s face

16:35 we love a self aware king. The poster was a tad rough

16:56 THUS CIDEO AND COMMENTARY JS SO SO SO GOOD

17:38 YES THANK YOU THE WADVERT WAS RVEFHONE. We couldn’t eat sleep or think without seeing it

18:11 please wash your blanket? Guys? Like? You can clean, wash, or dry clean anything. Please?

19:00 tbh saw under the robbing blanks and it wasn’t even that bad? Compared to every horrific demon phannie thing that has been seen? Not bad! Could have been worse

19:45 2021 period???? Hello??? You were gone since 2018? At least from dapg??

20:44 yet???? Capitolestor strikes again

20:50 did they not have a keep calm and something on poster in their apt at one point??? Some people?? You mean you???

21:16 I SAW THIS WHEN IT DROPPED. love dami sm. This video was so good

22:24 JUMPSCARE

22:55 “1992” “Daniel” calm down

23:25 “you also let me” guys??? How is this forced situation? Who decided??

24:20 he needs to back away from the mic I can feel him breathing in my ears my goood ess??

24:34 I’m screaming bc they used a clip from the section before we all thought they got high. This section they posted was just a cute section

24:54 literally speechless. Also jumpscare?

26:30 the entire dan induced conclusion is beautiful I love them and their banter

26:54 nvm can you lean into the mic closer and tell us you’re proud again??? Needed that???

#dan and phil #amazingphil #dnp #phil lester #daniel howell #philip lester #dan howell #danisnotonfire #dan and phil renaissance #dnpgames

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evycloudberry · 2 years

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* note: I am writing this as (Y/N) being a fire fairy.

* note: I did not name the friends, so all readers can ‘personalize’ this story easily. They are mentioned according to their ability.

Disclaimer: swearing, mention of drinking/alcohol, mention of sexual gestures

Find the other part here

Begin Again (Part 6)

Taglist: @slytherinambitious @ellatitanium

She wasn't really sure where to go, but it's started to get suffocating in there. Why were everyone so worked up ? What could've had happen last night ? Is it so bad that she doesn't remember ?

She unconsciously walked up to where the specialists are training, she decided to sit there for a bit, watching them. She noticed Zane showing some paring move to a group, before letting them practice with each other. He took advantage of the situation to come to her.

"Aren't you cold ?"

"I wasn't when I left the suite" to that he started to remove his hoodie

"Isn't it all sweaty ?"

"Your hair is still a bit wet, I don't see the difference" he laughed

"Ew.. alright give it here"

She expected him to hand it over, instead he passed her stretched out arm through one of the sleeve, and she cooperated to pass the other one aswell

"Don't you have class ?"

"In an hour or so"

"Nice, so you can stay and watch practice"

"Watch ? Or kick your ass ?"

"Am I being challenged ?"

“You absolutely are” she said heading on the platform while adding “don’t hold back”

He just smirked at her nonchalantly.

She waited for him to give the first hit but as it never came, she decided to show him that she really meant it, and with no second thoughts threw a punch at him. That he lucky caught, passing her arm around and arm locked her. To what she answer by hitting him with her head, while he grabbed his bloody nose, she hit him in the stomach, crotch, and jaw, letting him fall to the ground.

“I did say don’t hold back”

“Clearly, that’s not your first time” he laughed in pain

“Because it’s not..” a stern voice answered

(Y/N) smile faltered when she met the eyes of the one who spoke.

“Didn’t you people figures that I needed a little break.. is it too much to ask..”

Her friends felt guilty, not just because they were acting behind her back and investigating, but also because for a split of a second she got that shine back in her eyes: the genuine happiness.

“I mean Zaine is pretty easy to fight against. No wonder you won” he spit out with much bitterness in his voice, joining them on the platform.

“You have some steam blow off. Take me on”

“I’d rather face Silva. Or Sky”

“But you’re not mad at them, are you” he rhetorically asked, coming inches away from her.

With no warning she tried to elbow him but was stopped instantly. She did not prevail and tried a combo to get at least one hit. She gave all she had but it felt like he knew all her moves in advance. Even when she tried to be sneaky and chance tactics, he read her to the bone. Until she saw an opening and got him nailed to the ground.. she smiled very proud until it hit her “you let me win?” “I always do..” he slowly breathed out, “what do you mean?” He had no time to answer when she exclaimed “well this feels like a déjà-vu..”. She got off him, a bit puzzled. “Déjà-vu or not, this was fun” she sympathetically smiled at him, handing out a hand to help him get up.

“I am (Y/N)”

His jaw dropped as he held her small cold hand and his, and stared in her eyes trying to figure out what was happening.

“That’s my name. (Y/N). What’s yours? You know what a name is right ?” She joked

“Riven..” he baffled

“Well thank you Riven for that little head to head, it was fun!”

Her friends were in chock and could say nothing. What was there to say ? The truth would seems to crazy, and they did not need her to anger up again.

“Oh you guys are here ! We should go tho we’re gonna be late. Zaine I’ll see you later, Riven, I’ll see you around?”

He did not so now what to say, luckily they did not wait for an answer.

He quickly spun around “whatever you did to her, we’re gonna undo it. And let me tell you, whatever she plans on doing with you when everything gets back to normal, I will not stop her.”

“I did nothing to her Riven. You’re the one that broke her heart. I am just the comforting shoulder. I mean you gave her up”

He tried his very best not to show his anger and rather walked away.

Zaine words resonated in his head “I did not, gave her up.. or did I ?” The long forgotten knot in his stomach made its come back.

Part 7

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getsusekaii · 9 months

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There's an hour left til the new year here, so here are my final words to you guys in 2023.

I'm genuinely so glad I came back to tumblr this year. I missed writing so badly, but I also missed just how nice, sweet, open, and friendly the RPC can be most of the time. Ever since I came back here a few months ago, I've had nothing but positive and pleasant experiences. I've met some people who have become instant staples in my life, and satisfied a loneliness I didn't even know I had and felt until I started feeling like I was accepted and wanted. I always try to give that back 10-fold, even tho I'm just one person and stretched thin. If I can even give back all the positivity I've received from being here back to you guys, you know I damn sure did.

I'mma get a lil personal and sappy under a readmore but just know and understand, I appreciate all of you here. I hope 2024 is nothing but kind to you all. I don't pray, but I wish nothing but the best for all of you. I can't thank you guys enough for just existing.

To some people I wanna shout out:

@rake-rake you already know how I feel about you Ase. I can't go a day without talking to you. I never expected that from our first interaction that we would become this close this fast. Every day I'm so thankful that its interacting with you the most that really brought me back to the RPC, and why I enjoy spending time writing as a hobby again. You hear it often, but I must always remind you; you're my favorite writing partner. We mesh so well together and I just get so damn excited doing anything with you. Thank you so much for writing with me. I adore you to the moon and back. I love plotting with you, chatting, making up verses and basically just rewriting Jujutsu Kaisen for our own benefit and happiness. You make my day so much brighter just existing. Thank you so much for being my friend, and I hope we continue to be so into the next year and so forth.

@ntzenin / @ofovertime / @strawdxll / @impishsensei you guys are also the lights of my life. I literally can't help but smile when I talk to you guys either because you're making me laugh, or because I just love talking with you. I love chatting with you guys the times that we do, either in DMs, servers, on the dash or what have you. You all have brought personal smiles to my face, given me advice when I needed someone to talk to, cheered me up when I needed it. Thank you guys so much for being friends with me. I treasure you guys more than I may let on(?)

@cvrseduser / @anvevennad / @ofsavior From people I haven't followed long, to a long time supporter, you guys are super inspirational to me. Your phenomenal writing, taking the characters you write and fleshing them out more, giving them the careful individual attention to detail and such is so ugh. I aspire so much to match ya'll energy when it comes to my writing. I want to be able to chat more personally coming into the new year because you are all joys to watch from afar, or from the few times we have talked. thanks so much for following me, and serving as inspiration to improve my writing. You guys are awesome.

#✦ ・ rubii is a gem #dont look at me ok-

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soov-archived · 2 years

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WR⩇NG R⩇⩇M! O1. enpipen

warnings ⠀ cursing, mingyu needs a leash, y/n & jungwon are awkward as hell (mostly y/n tho 😕), one sexual joke, soobin slander (#FreeSoobin). it's "this is why" in the last ss oh my god 😭

Laughing at your members’ messages, you tapped your foot anxiously as you waited for the elevator for a second time that day. Dozens of notifications popped up on your phone by the second, the device vibrating restlessly.

“Um... Y/n sunbaenim?” A raspy voice startled you.

Frenetically shoving your phone inside your pocket, you turned around to see Jungwon. He bowed nervously, wiping the sweat that accumulated on his forehead from dancing for thirty minutes straight.

“Oh, hey, Jungwon.” You forced a smile and nodded, the atmosphere slowly getting awkward. You noticed how the song's volume lowered, now being limited to muffled, distant sounds. “It's good to see you!”

“Uh- yeah! Same.” He tried to mirror your gesture, but his nervousness got him. His face scrunched in a shy manner, dimples poking out and a hand rubbing the nape of his neck. “Sora sunbaenim called me at the same time that we, you know— we kind of... made eye contact! Yeah, made eye contact. I thought something was wrong. Um... is something wrong? Were you watching me?”

Your mouth opened and closed, your phone still vibrating inside your pocket. He seems way more nervous than I do, you thought.

“No, not at all!” You lied quickly, internally grimacing and apologizing to Jungwon for your fake statement. You wished you could practice that night, but he was enjoying himself a lot in 4-2. That moment you realized that if you succeeded on getting him out of the studio, you'd finally have a chance to work, but you wouldn't ever forgive yourself for ruining his adorable moment of happiness. “Sora might've called you on accident. I just happened to be passing by, and you caught my attention! You're a really good dancer.”

His cat-like eyes visibly lit up with your compliment. It was endearing how touched he felt for such a small phrase. You grinned, proud that the commentary you made was genuine.

“You think so?” Jungwon gave you a warm smile, one that made him look like he was asking for a confirmation that you weren't joking around, that you really liked his dancing. His head tilted to the side, red hair flowing down (his baby hair didn't move, sticking to his skin because of the sweat).

A nod from you was everything he needed. Bowing again, he sighed happily. “Thank you, sunbaenim!”

Ding!

The elevator arrived, the bell almost interrupting Yang. If he wasn't speaking so fastly (which he did because of his anxiousness), the sound would've cut his sentence midway, leaving the moment a bit more weird between you two.

“I guess I need to go,” you spoke, walking inside the place and pressing number 5.

“Take care, sunbaenim! It's late already.” You heard him warning you from afar. The frequent use of the honorific nearly made you laugh. If the tension wasn't big, or if you weren't so bad at talking to people one-on-one, you would've cackled right there.

“Jungwon!” Calling out, you held a button with your index, stopping the door from closing. The guy behind the security cameras was having a blast with your interactions.

The boy hurriedly went in front of the elevator, gazing at you with confusion in his features. “Yes?”

“You don't need to call me sunb-! No!” The entrance shut itself and you groaned in despair, realizing that your finger left the panel too soon. Burying your face in your hands, you cringed at your behavior towards Jungwon.

From the other side of the door, Jungwon understood what you wanted to say, even though you were interrupted. He knew he probably looked like a fool beaming and smiling at the metal entry, however, he simply savoured the cringeworthy moment — your first real talk. His head spiraled with thoughts about you that night, a lovesick twinkle in his eyes.

PREV M.LiST NEXT

⠀

⠀ ⠀ yang jungwon, the leader of enhypen, keeps using his senior’s dance room to practice even after his manager calls him out. what is he going to do when the said senior finds out that he's not only doing it on purpose, but also trying to win her heart?

⠀ ⠀ pairing idol!yjw & f!idol!reader

⠀ ⠀ © soov, 2O22.

⠀

REi'S N⩇TES ⠀ jw my baby ily :(

TAGLiST ( CLOSED! ) @fadedluvv @hiqhkey @luvvelxy @sour-graps @4hysgf @mfbookishbitch-vhae @raimbows4u @ahnneyong @drunkjazed @ssseob @777wonz @kange3939 @byhsng @i-yeseo @riverkee @luvdokja @she-is-dreaming @luveuly @zeraaax @eunbiland @ineedcoffeeandtherapy @ch0ijiung @mxristars @itznotshy @jaxavance @mitsukifilms @4vonly @jovibaes @hykai @kkalechip @kittyeji @boowoohoo @jeonginstwt @chukiez

#𐇵 wrong room!#enhypen fluff #enhypen headcanons #enhypen imagines #enhypen smau #enhypen x reader #jungwon fluff #jungwon smau #jungwon x reader #yang jungwon #yang jungwon x reader #yang jungwon smau #enha imagines #enha social media au #enha socmed au #enha smau #enha fluff #enha scenarios #jungwon headcanons

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carlsainz · 2 years

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𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒊 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒕 𝒊𝒔 𝒚𝒐𝒖 – 𝒒𝒖𝒊𝒏𝒏 𝒉𝒖𝒈𝒉𝒆𝒔

summary: you're spending the summer at the hughes' lakehouse but things between you and quinn are not how they used to be.

pairing: quinn hughes x reader

requested: yes

warnings: none i think

a/n: hihi loveys, here i am with this request from oli !! i loved writing this one, hope y'all like it <3

if there are any mistakes please let me know, since it's not proofread. (just imagine THIS quinny in the cover as the quinny here)

word count: 4,7k

lowercase intended.

my requests are closed.

sitting on a chair at the huge backyard, you inhaled the clean air that you only found at the hughes' lake house. this house has always been your sanctuary in the summer, since you've been friends with the boys since childhood.

with eyes closed and lost in thoughts, enjoying the last moments of peace and quietness before everyone arrived, you didn't even notice ellen sitting beside you.

"hi honey, you ok?" she asked in a maternal tone.

"oh my god," you said, putting your hand on your chest, feeling your heart beating fast by being caught by surprise.

laughing at your reaction, ellen said "i'm sorry, i didn't mean to scare you."

"no, that's okay," you laughed too, "i was just lost in my own head, no big deal."

"you want to talk about whatever it's disturbing you?"

quickly weighing your options, you chose to talk. after all, ellen hughes has always been listening you since… well, since forever.

"there's this guy i…" you stopped and then sighed. "there's this guy i really like but i don't know if he likes me back. and i'm really confused because we had an arrangement, you know?" you were feeling your whole face burning with shame. ellen just nodded and you continued. "we spent some good months together, he's a spectacular guy. i love his friendship and company, he's the best person for a lot of things, specially marathon series with," you smiled. "as long as i want to stay with him, i know i can't take it anymore. it's too much to my heart, i can't keep hurting myself like that."

"so what did you do?"

"i told him i couldn't do this and ended that strange thing we had and he didn't say anything," you sighed. "i miss him every single day, i've been through hell to be honest. but it's for the best, i have to have some self love, right?"

"have you ever considered that this guy can like you too?"

"nah, there's no way."

"but how would you know?"

"i think if he really liked me back, he would've told me, we had plenty of time," you shrugged. "also, he could've called me or something during this time we're apart."

"oh dear," she sounded sad for you. "look, i'm not playing devil's advocate here but try to put yourself in his shoes. he can be a shy person or thinking the same way you're thinking."

"how?"

"well, he can be thinking you don't like him and never will," she started slowly caressing your back the way she always did. "that's one of the options for why he hasn't told you anything."

"i really think that's not possible but thank you for hearing me, mama hughes, i love you," you genuinely smiled this time.

"i'm here whenever you need, my dear. you just–"

she was interrupted by loud noises coming from the front of the house.

"here they are, i thought they were gonna take longer to arrive," she laughed.

"i'm glad they're here tho, they can help distract me."

"absolutely," she got up. "if you need to ask me something or just talk about what's in your head, you know where to find me."

"thank you very much," you said, getting up too.

"i love you, darling," she hugged you tightly and then headed to where the boys were gathering with all their things.

you looked at the lake one more time and followed her. as you expected, the living room was a confusion of voices and luggages. since the house was pretty big, all three boys always brought their friends to spend some time with them. jack always brings more people than anyone, he and his ntdp buddies are inseparable during summers.

this year, they were here again, of course. luke is with some of his friends from umich and quinn is alone.

quintin hughes. your guy. your best friend since forever and the boy you love for as long as you can remember. you were feeling nervous seeing him for the first time after you "broke up" with him. his hair was longer and his beard looked amazing. while looking at him, you had to tell yourself lots of times you couldn't caress his face or kiss his lips.

"earth to y/n" you heard. shaking your head to get back to reality, you looked at the person trying to talk to you.

"alex, oh my god i missed you so much!" you wrapped your arms around your best friend.

well, second best friend, since the first one is – or was – quinn.

"how are you doing, bug?"

"not so well," you replied, your voice lowering.

"that same thing?"

"yup," you let out a tired sigh. besides ellen, alex is the only one who knows everything about your situation with quinn. "but how are you? we haven't seen each other in a while, tell me everything."

turcs started telling you some basic things since you were still in the middle of the noisy living room while quinn watched from the other side of the room.

he was feeling nervous too, even more than you. as his mother said earlier, not knowing she was talking about her own son, he was, in fact, in love with you. nonetheless, he was afraid as hell of your reaction if he told you the truth. in his head, you were way out of his league. you're smart, lovely, gorgeous, funny, and a lot of other things. why would you look at him as more than a friend? besides, you've known him since you were kids and he didn't want to lose your friendship, but hey, surprise! it was ruined too now.

quinn thought he was lucky enough to have you as his friend with benefits, that thing of taking what you can. but of course it ended. he was heartbroken since the day you looked at his eyes and told you couldn't continue this. choosing to focus solely on hockey, he gave you space, not realizing you were waiting to see if he would do something different.

he was brought back to the moment at the sound of his mother's voice.

"okay everyone, enough with this mess here," she said and everyone went quiet. "let's organize the pairings to the bedrooms now."

quinn saw his mother grabbing your hand, since you were closer to her, and announce "y/n, you're with quinn this summer," she said. "i thought it was ok since you usually slept in the same bed here when you were younger?"

when he was ready to open his mouth and ask to change with someone else, you were already speaking.

"that's ok, mama hughes."

the rest of the room was clueless, except quinn and alex, of course. they were looking at you, thinking about why you did this.

the thing is, not even you know why you said it was ok. of course it wasn't, you couldn't sleep in the same bed as quinn after everything. but you'd think about it later.

ellen followed her list, designating pairs for the rooms, and soon the living room was calm again, as everyone headed to their bedrooms.

you grabbed your things, going upstairs to your bedroom while trying to distract yourself with some music you were addicted to. quickly finding the room, you put your luggage on the floor, starting to put your clothes in the wardrobe. you were in the middle of it when quinn knocked on the door and entered the room.

he looked at you and you looked at him and everything looked strange. you were dying to hug him and so was he, but you just stayed glued to the same place looking at each other. he gave you one last look with his sad eyes and closed the door behind him, going to the other side of the bed and starting to do the same as you in silence.

after some time, you couldn't take it anymore. turning around, you observed him, missing your moments more than ever.

"hi, quinny," you said in a low voice.

"hi, angel," he said in the same tone.

feeling your eyes watering, you dropped your things, going straight to him. hugging him without thinking twice, you felt the tears streaming down your face while he held you tight in his arms.

"i missed you so much," you said.

"me too, you have no idea."

"can we just pretend nothing happened?"

his heart clenched at your words but he said "of course we can, i miss my best friend."

you slowly nodded against his chest, sniffling. as much as you wanted to believe that everything would be normal again, you just couldn't feel it, everything was very weird between you. you disentangled your arms from his middle, giving him a tight squeeze, looking at his face and trying to smile. he did the same but your heart ached either way.

"well i have to finish unpacking my things," you said.

"me too, i think my mom's gonna be here soon telling us to help her."

"yeah, let's do this."

•

later that night, everyone was saying good night as, one by one, they went to their bedrooms to sleep after a long day. after you finished unpacking your things, both you and quinn went to help ellen and then spent the rest of the afternoon outside with everyone else. it was good to see your friends after so long but something seemed off and it was your relationship with quinn.

some of them noticed you weren't as close with quinn as you usually were, staying with alex more than normal when you, in other times, would be glued by quinn's side. ellen was the one who noticed more than others, naturally. she couldn't quite understand what was happening between you but she was going to find out.

going upstairs before quinn, you took a quick shower and dressed comfy to sleep. when you stepped outside the bathroom, you saw quinn closing the door, looking tired.

"hm hey, about sleeping tonight," he started. "i can sleep on the floor if you want."

"oh no, you can sleep in the bed, there's no problem."

there was a problem, but you wouldn't let him sleep on the floor.

"are you sure?"

"yeah, that's alright."

"ok, then i'm gonna take a shower."

"mhmm."

you stared at each other in an awkward silence and quinn cleared his throat. he picked some things and headed to the bathroom, while you turned the lights off, leaving only a bedside lamp on. you heard the shower noise and lay on your favorite side of the bed, thinking about this situation. in a few minutes, you'd be sleeping beside the man you love for the first time in a few months and you didn't know how to react.

not wanting to wait for him, you just turned on your side and closed your eyes, trying to sleep fast. of course it didn't happen, you only sleep fast when you're hearing nature sounds on your spotify but you didn't put them because quinn probably don't want to hear it.

the bathroom door opened and you kept your eyes closed so you didn't have to talk to quinn. you heard a heavy sight coming from him, and then some noises indicating he must be putting his things in their places. he turned the bedside lamp off, laying down. a few seconds passed and you started hearing your favorite nature sounds' album out of nowhere.

it was quinn. he remembered and put his phone between your pillows after setting the timer. you're sure you could cry just at this gesture. smiling softly, you started feeling the sleepiness already coming to you.

•

the first time you woke up, you noticed the warmth under your head. since when is your pillow so warm? with your sleepy brain not letting you care enough, you snuggled even more, going back to sleep once again.

it didn’t take much time for quinn to wake up too and for real. at first, he wasn’t alarmed by feeling your body in his arms, your head on his chest. this was a current situation for a long time during your friends with benefits period. he enjoyed the moment as always, but then suddenly remembered that you put an end to this. being extra careful to not wake you up, quinn managed to disentangle your bodies, getting up short after. rubbing his eyes to get rid of the rest of sleepiness, he looks at you one more time before he goes to the bathroom and then the kitchen to eat something.

there, he finds almost everyone eating and chatting, all of them excited to enjoy the day and the summer as always. he acted normal, kissing his mom’s cheek and eating and chatting with some of the boys. today, they were all going fishing together, a thing they couldn’t do very often when the season was happening.

while eating, quinn started zoning out, thinking about you per usual. why do you have to be so incredible? the thought of how he could fix things with you was eating him alive. perhaps he should ask his mom what to do. yeah, he was definitely going to do this later.

“wake up, jerome,” someone yelled to him.

“hm what?”

“man were you even on earth?” trevor asked.

“what do you want?”

“oooh he’s moody,” it was brendan’s time to tease him.

quinn just gave him a look and he immediately closed his mouth before saying something stupid.

“they were asking if you’re ready to go to the lake, huggy,” luke said.

“yeah, sure.”

they all got up and quinn took advantage of the momentary mess to talk to his mom.

“hey mom, can we talk tonight?” he said in a low tone.

“sure sweetie, should i be worried?”

giggling, he said “no, it’s not a good situation but you don’t have to worry.”

“ok, now go with the boys.”

“bye mum,” he kissed her forehead and followed everyone.

meanwhile, you were waking up and getting ready for the day. since it was officially the first day, you would be only staying on the shore, working on your tan and reading some book. going downstairs to eat, you found only ellen watching tv.

“hi mama hughes, how are you?”

“great honey, and you?”

“i’m gonna be fine,” you gave her a sad smile.

“still that boy?”

“yeah.”

“and you wanna talk about it?”

“actually no, i think i’ll try to distract myself today,” you said. “where’s everyone?”

“fishing.”

“ooh, makes sense.”

“what do you want to do today?”

“i was planning on staying at the shore in the sun reading something, what about you?”

“well i was thinking about spending the whole day sleeping to rest.”

“you’re so right, i’ll be out soon so you can have the whole house in silence.”

“take your time, dear. there’s tea and some food for you in the kitchen.”

“thank you, you’re the best,” you kissed her head and went to the kitchen.

after eating, you grabbed your sunglasses and book and headed to the chairs outside to lay down. you read just a few pages before drifting off to sleep. you were lucky because you remembered to apply a layer of sunscreen, and the sun wasn’t strong. it was a dreamless nap, 2 hours of rest and then you were waking up again. picking your book again, you continued from where you stopped and luckly your brain kept everything related to quinn in second plan, giving you a truce.

the book you were reading was about a fictional famous hollywood's actress who had seven husbands and an incredible life story. you were enjoying your time but then a droplet of water fell on your head and you looked up, seeing it was starting to rain. collecting your things, you ran to the house and kept quiet so ellen could rest and headed to your bedroom. after taking a shower, you lay on the bed, smelling quinn’s scent. you missed it so much you could cry.

picking up your phone, you started scrolling through your social media and listening to some music. you were so distracted you didn’t even notice quinn opening the door and then closing it. he was quiet until he stubbed his pinky toe on the bed.

“holy shit,” he almost yelled.

you startled at the sound, taking off your airpods and looking at his face.

“oh my god are you alright?”

“i am but it hurts so much.”

“stay here, i’m gonna grab an ice pack.”

you practically ran downstairs and grabbed the ice pack in record time. going back to the bedroom, you saw quinn sitting on the bedside, looking defeated. you hated when your boy looked like that. he’s not your boy, you reminded yourself.

“here, put your feet on the bed.”

he did as you told and you placed the ice pack after taking a look at his finger. it didn't look broken nor swollen, only being red.

“you will be okay, just keep it on for-”

“20 minutes, i know,” he interrupted you. you backed off, suddenly feeling shy. “thank you, y/n/n,” he added.

“i’ll be downstairs.”

you did it and sat alone on the front porch until ellen called everyone for dinner. going to the dining room, you saw that the only available place was beside quinn. sighing, you sat and asked “how’s your finger?”

“way better, thanks for asking.”

jack, who was looking at your awkward interaction from the other side of the table, asked “what’s going on between you two?”

“what do you mean?” you asked.

“you’re acting all weird since yesterday.”

you heard everyone agreeing and felt cornered.

“nothing’s wrong, i think y’all are seeing more than what’s here,” quinn said.

“yes,” you agreed. “and also, people change so…”

“everyone, time to eat,” ellen came to your rescue.

you looked at her with a grateful look and she smiled at you. the rest of the dinner was pretty normal, the boys talking about their fishing day while you ate in silence.

after everyone finished eating, you excused yourself and headed to the bedroom, just wanting to hide from the world under the covers. quinn stayed behind to help his mom while everyone went to the backyard.

“ok sweet boy, want to talk now?” ellen asked, putting the things in the dishwasher.

“sure,” he replied. “i was… seeing a girl back in vancouver and she’s my friend but we had an arrangement and everything was good and seemed to be ok, at least from my point of view. we were always together doing everything but not officially because i didn’t want to ruin our friendship but i guess i did it anyway, i really don't know.” at this point, despite having heard only the start, ellen was starting to connect the dots. “i swear everything was normal and then one day she called it quits and i was so shocked i didn’t even react. i still don’t know what to do because…”

“keep going, baby.”

“i love her, mom, i really do. and i’m so heartbroken since that day because i miss her friendship and our moments together and everything. i feel so lonely without her, i don’t know what to do to fix things and i thought you could help me.”

he didn’t realized there were tears streaming down his face until his mom approached him and started drying his tears with her thumbs.

“oh my little baby, i feel so sorry for you,” she said. “i think the best thing i can say to you for now is to try to distract yourself here, going out with the boys and enjoying your brothers.”

“but what can i do to get my girl back?”

“just be patient and enjoy the summer here with your family and friends, quinny,” she said, messing up his hair. “and then you can talk to this girl, tell her your feelings and if she’s the one for you, she will understand. and if she doesn’t feel the same, it’s not the end of the world. keep in mind that when a door closes, others are opening for you.”

“ok mom,” he said, begrudgingly.

“now go do something, i think the boys are outside,” ellen said. he nodded and did what she said.

this whole situation seemed like a mess to ellen. the thing is, she knows you live in vancouver for college and of course she knew you were always together since little kids. she only needed to connect the dots and realize you were talking about quinn and he was talking about you. it hurts to see that this situation could be solved with a little communication, the pain could be long gone. it was now her personal mission to make both of you talk about it somehow and she would do what she could to make this happen.

after that day, your awkward dynamic kept going, the only change was the way you were sleeping now. after two days waking up the same way as the first, you and quinn started sleeping as you used to do, together from head to toe. but it was only this. you couldn’t act like a normal person around him and the same with quinn. ellen was working hard trying to make you have a conversation but nothing seemed to work. until the universe got tired and did the work all by himself.

you were spending a lot of time with alex this summer and that night it wasn’t different. you were all around a bonfire chatting and making s’mores and roasting marshmallows. everything was nice and comforting, you were feeling truly relaxed and happy despite everything going on in your head. the time was passing quickly and everyone started to go back home to get some sleep, until it was just you and turcs. you stretched your limbs and let out a heavy sigh, starting to think about quinn all over again. why was everything so complicated?

“turcs why can’t i be happy with quinny as my boyfriend?”

“aw bug, you know you should talk to him about how you feel, don’t you?”

“i know but it’s so hard, my biggest fear is to be rejected and lose his friendship for real this time.”

“but your friendship is kinda nonexistent at this moment,” he said.

“shut up alex, i hate you.”

“but it’s true, you really should tell him. i’ve known quinn for a long time now and he’s always been the type of guy who can only show his feelings with his family, you know? i think he’s afraid of telling what he really feels and you misinterpreted his lack of action after you broke up with him.”

“that’s basically what mama hughes said.”

“you told her?”

“yeah, i just didn’t tell i was talking about her son but besides this little information, i told.”

“see it’s not too hard, you told me, told ellen and you can totally tell quinn.”

“that’s not how it works, smartass.”

“you’re wrong but ok.”

“it’s just that i love him so much, i hate seeing him and not being able to act like a normal person. i just wish i could say it to quinny and hopefully he would say he feels the same but if feels so impossible to me,” you sighed. “i’m sorry to keep talking your ear off about this whole situation, i just don’t know what to do.”

“you don’t need to apologize, i understand,” he said. “what i have to say is you need to find the courage to tell him. if you need support, i can go with you.”

“i need some time to think about what i’m gonna do.”

“and i need some sleep, let’s go bug.”

“okaaaaay.”

you and alex went back to the house, but what you didn’t know is that quinn was hearing everything. he went back to the backyard because he forgot his phone and heard it by accident. he couldn’t believe what you said, it all felt like a feverish dream. the girl he loves loves him back. when you were out of sight, he grabbed his phone and went back to the house, suddenly feeling a rush of adrenaline and confidence.

opening the door to your shared bedroom, he saw you looking at something in your phone and cleared his throat, catching your attention.

“we need to talk.”

“about what?”

“us.”

“what about?”

“i heard you and turcs at the backyard by accident, i’m sorry.”

“you what?” you said, your eyes wide open.

“it was an accident, i swear, but i have to tell you that we’re feeling the same way.”

“how can this be true?”

“you never noticed?”

“of course no, you silly boy, if so i wouldn’t be asking.”

“calm down,” he sat by your side. “i- i love you. for real. more than friends should love each other. i’ve loved you since we were teenagers but then it faded and everything got back like a hurricane when you started living in vancouver.”

“why didn’t you tell me before?”

“the same reason as you, silly.”

“i can’t believe we messed up everything when we could be dating for a long time now,” you let out an incredulous laugh.

“i know, it sucks,” he laughed too.

“so it’s so easy like this?”

“i guess so? we’ve known each other for a long time and that’s our dynamic.”

“well i don’t have much more to say about it, we suffered in silence when it all could be avoided but now we can finally be together after everything,” you said.

“for real this time, no more misunderstandings.”

“for real,” you said. “babe i missed you so much.”

“me too, i couldn’t take it anymore.”

“i know, i know,” you said, “come here.”

you opened your arms and he hugged you, resting his head on your chest just how he likes.

“i love you so, so, so, so much, quinny,” you mumbled, kissing his head.

“it’s so good to hear it, you have no idea,” he said. “i love you too, my love, i never stopped loving you.”

you stayed tangled for some time but then quinn decided he had been deprived of your lips for too much time and he wanted to end this. lifting his head, he looked at your face and captured your lips in a gentle kiss, your hearts beating so fast they could explode. his lips were warm and soft against yours, his beard scratching you but it was so good you didn’t care. he held your neck, adjusting your head so he could deepen the kiss. meanwhile, your hands were threading through his soft hair. boy, you missed it so much.

when the air was needed, he slowly pulled away, giving you some pecks while trying to breath and it was a mess but you were laughing.

“i. love. you,” quinn said in between pecks.

“i love you too, huggy bear.”

“we should sleep, as long as i want to keep kissing you the whole night i’m tired and you must be too.”

“you’re right, babe.”

getting up to change your clothes, you stole a shirt from quinn’s things as he laughs, shaking his head. after being dressed and clean, you turned the lights off and lay down by his side.

“i have a confession,” you said.

“go ahead.”

“i wasn’t sleeping very well until we started sleeping together again.”

“same with me,” he said.

“i guess we’re just meant to be together.”

“as we should.”

“i love you.”

“i love you too, my sunflower.”

quinn grabbed his phone to put the nature sounds and after setting the timer, he asked you to turn around so he could be the big spoon. doing as he said, you felt so protected and loved as you only felt when you were a little kid.

from that day on, everything seemed to be back to normal with you and quinn back to your old dynamic. well, old for you, because for the others – besides ellen and alex – it was all new. they all supported you and of course, they teased you, but it was all great and beautiful because you were with the love of your life.

as ellen said, when a door closes, others are opening for you. always. in this situation, the door was only a matter of time to be the right one.

#quinn hughes #vancouver canucks #quinn hughes imagine #gabs writes

417 notes · View notes

miekasa · 3 years

Text

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!

#attack on titan #aot x reader #snk x reader #eren x reader #aot imagines #snk imagines #eren smut #eren fluff #levi x reader #I DONT WANNA TALK ABOUT IT

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