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theragethatisdesire · 1 month

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quick bright things - eren jaeger x afab!reader, 18+!!

okay hi. after my many-months writing hiatus, i am offering up this humble creation. welcome to the world of quick bright things, caught somewhere between a fairytale and a shakespeare play and a priceless piece of jewelry. this was inspired by....a lot of things, from midsummer night's dream to saltburn to the secret history to romeo & juliet like, you name it and i've probably crammed it in here. eren is a lot different than i normally write him (or read him, for that matter), i hope you all find him as lovely as i do! this will be 2 parts (for now...), i'm not sure what else to say except i'm happy to be back and i hope you all love part 1 ₊˚⊹♡

pairing: eren jaeger x reader

wc: 10.4k

DISCLAIMER: this post contains MATURE CONTENT that is intended only for those over 18. if you are a minor, please do not read below the cut.

cws: alcohol, swearing, smut, fingering, reader has female anatomy, wet dreams, allusions to cannibalism (idk that's a stretch it's more of a metaphor), exhibitionism, cum-eating, creepy stepsiblings, rich assholes, throat-closing amounts of sexual tension, i honestly don't even know what to put here

without further ado...

"Last year I abstained / this year I devour / without guilt / which is also an art."

“Now don’t forget: university is for discovery, for adventure.” Your mother tucks the front of your shirt into your skirt, tugs at your collar until it’s sitting prettily against the cliff of your collarbones. It’s not a good fabric, this shirt; it’s cheap and scratches uncomfortably at the summer sunburn still lingering on your chest. “It’s for finding your passions, your life path, yourself…”

“Darling, you’ve been philosophizing since breakfast. You’re going to give the poor girl a conniption.” Your father chuckles lightly, swinging the hammer at the wall of your dormitory and finishing the hanging of one of your many posters over your creaky, lofted bed. The posters are bright and colorful, almost garish in the pristine, ancient light pouring in from the windows. With a slow blink, you realize you’re going to take them down later, that they feel incongruous with the dust particles and the oak furniture.

“It’s alright, really.” You manage a smile of compromise, lips clamped tight to hold the flutter of nerves in your throat at bay. “I think I’ve got it from here.”

There’s an expectedly teary goodbye, a small monologue from your father about how much you’ve grown, and a few reminders from your mother to separate the darks and the lights when you do laundry, to focus on your studies. Just before she slips out behind her husband, she grabs you by the shoulders and presses her lips to the side of your head, kisses a blood-red print into the shell of your ear.

“Don’t forget. Find something.”

᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃

Whether it started with that conversation or with the buildup that accompanied the thirty-six months of monotonous paper-writing and numb boredom of your first three years at Oxford, you can’t be sure. In truth, maybe your first three years weren’t all that boring, and they only seem so by comparison of everything that came after, but you can’t be entirely sure of that either.

What you can be sure of is that something down the line—between meeting Sasha in that class on Milton and squeezing her hand as the plane landed and the dozens of bottles of champagne you’ve consumed over the last weeks—something led you to this moment, standing in this kitchen somewhere outside Verona with your bare feet against the hot clay tiles, staring at the sharp angle of an unfamiliar, tanned collarbone.

He’s coated in linen: a half-unbuttoned, burnt-orange drape of a shirt is rolled carefully up around strong forearms, and one large, boyish foot peeks out from his baggy jeans, propped up on its throne upon the opposite knee. A golden cross winks at you from his chest, nestled in the sparsest dusting of chest hair and dripping with the same peach juice that’s sliding down his Adam’s apple, from his strong chin, from the crooked smirk that’s pointed at you like a knife.

You recognize him before he speaks– this must be Eren. Sasha’s mentioned him enough times: the shock of rich, dark hair, the lakewater eyes, the way he leans back in his chair like a king and cocks his head like a trickster. This is Eren, and you tell him so.

“Guilty.” The sun compliments everything about him but his smile, a little too sharp with too much danger behind it. It’s a smile made for moonlight. “And you are?”

A memory surfaces in your mind, a cautionary childhood tale. “You can never let a fairy know your name,” Emma tells you, graver than death, crouched in the bushes beside you, “or they steal you away, and you can never be human again.”

“Well?” Eren says expectantly, head leaning even further to the left. He’s studying you, the baggy linen pants pooling around your toes and ruby-studded ears poking out of a fray of frazzled bedhead. You feel naked, feel a wild urge come over you and wonder how his eyes would glow at you if you were. You shiver, goosebumps raising in the stuffy summer air. When his lips twitch, you realize Eren’s noticed; you feel feverish.

You mumble your name at him, as if it’s something given unwillingly. Waking the espresso machine seems like the right thing to do with your hands, and you’re grateful for the noisy mechanical sounds it provides to shatter the still morning. You bring an absentminded hand to rub over the tip of your ear, feel if it’s grown to a point yet.

“We haven’t met, have we? I feel like if we had, I’d remember.”

God, you wish he’d stop talking.

“Well, do you go to Oxford?”

“Sometimes.” You roll your eyes, and he laughs, little bells and glass shattering. “I’ve been abroad for the last semester. I flew in from Egypt a couple of weeks ago.”

“Hm,” you hum to yourself, choosing a small red cup for your morning coffee. You aren’t sure what to say; the most exotic place you’ve ever visited was a seaside town three hours from your house.

You can hear his newspaper crinkling; the sound of him putting it down betrays his arrival behind you, but you still don’t expect the puff of warm breath over your shoulder. He comes into your space like he belongs there, like there’s never been a door that wasn’t held open for him to stride through. “Are you still asleep?”

Before you can answer, you hear a shriek from down the hallway, and you breathe a little sigh of relief, thanking whatever ancient gods that belong to the hills you’re in for the interruption. Venus springs to mind, and you swat her and her entourage of Graces away from you with a huff.

“You absolute asshole!” Historia comes barreling into the kitchen, dramatic, fluffy dressing robe spilling out into the unrelenting summer heat behind her. You realize that in the three weeks you’ve spent with her, you haven’t once seen her in the actual kitchen, watching the way the breakfast chef’s eyes widen at the sight of her as he hurries by with an armful of eggs.

“Stori!” Eren elegantly catches her best attempt at a tackle with the good grace you assume he does everything with, breaking out into a warm peal of laughter. “Since when do you not love a surprise?”

“Since always.” Historia’s face is scrunched up where she’s buried it into the crook of his neck, forehead red with the effort of squeezing Eren as hard as she can. “You could have at least called, I mean– ugh, I didn’t even get the chance to get your favorite–”

“Relax.” Eren urges her, rubbing soothing circles into the small of her back. He carries them both over to his seat, plopping down and curling her up in his lap like a child. Eren holds his cup of coffee to her lips temptingly, and Historia shoves it away with another scowl. You hide your giggle at her antics behind your espresso, not wanting to remind them of your presence, but enjoying the show all the same. “Brat.”

“Ow,” Historia hisses when he pinches her thigh, expression lightening when she catches sight of something on the wall. “I always forget how pretty the kitchen is here.”

“Where’s your brother?”

“Still getting dressed.” Historia’s blue eyes turn to the frescoed ceiling with an irritated huff. “You know he can’t stand to be seen in his pajamas.”

“That’s because he doesn’t wear any,” Eren remarks with an eye roll of his own. “You could have called to let me know we’d adopted such a pretty houseguest for the summer.”

Your face burns with acknowledgement, and you can feel your toes curling into the clay bricks of the floor hard enough to scrape the tip of your pinky. Eren seems satisfied at your bewilderment, letting his eyes drag over your hardly-covered chest lazy as a wandering mouth.

“Why would anyone wear pajamas under those heavy duvets? It’s almost thirty-two degrees out.” Armin breezes in in a feigned display of nonchalance, but you can see the way his eyes skim over Eren like a ship narrowly avoiding an iceberg. The Titanic was inevitable, and so is the gravity of Eren sitting golden on the other side of the room.

“You look good, Min.” Eren squints his eyes at Armin’s shirt, nearly identical to his own. “Where’d you get that?”

“You left it last summer,” Historia hums, tucking her head under Eren’s chin and nuzzling into his chest more completely. Armin makes a soft snort of irritation, grabbing for a fig in the bowl of fruit on the counter and beginning to rummage through the cabinet drawers.

“Do you want half a fig?” Armin’s cool gaze slides to you, and you shake your head, feeling a little underwater as two lifelong relationships unfurl in front of you, your mind still fuzzy from last night’s wine. “Historia?”

Historia says no as Eren says yes, and Armin makes his sound of annoyance again before continuing his rummaging, muttering about the inconvenience of finding a knife.

“Do my eyes deceive me?” Sasha, still disheveled with sleep and grinning bright as Christmas morning, pops her head around the doorway. “Shouldn’t you be overseeing the construction of your pyramid?”

“I’m not dead, Sasha,” Eren laughs—it really is distracting when he does that—pulling Sasha onto his other knee, ignoring Historia’s grumbles of discontent. The NYU Men’s Lacrosse t-shirt that Sasha cropped too short rides up, exposing the swell of her breast, but no one acknowledges it. Eren’s hand tucks in snugly around the curve of her hip, easy and natural, and you wonder if his fingers have ever itched to travel up under the hem of her tiny sleep shorts.

“Not dead yet.” Historia glares up at him venomously, reluctantly making room for Sasha to pile onto Eren and smother his face with kisses. Sasha pulls away from him suddenly and frowns.

“Peaches?”

“Where are the knives in this fucking kitchen?” Armin’s growl of frustration is loud enough to make you jump, and Sasha giggles at you.

“Jesus, Armin, you’re going to kill her, and it’s not even noon.” Sasha slips off of Eren’s knee, practically bouncing over to where Armin’s viciously jiggling a locked drawer. She slides open the drawer next to him and draws a long, wide knife from it, passing it to him with the blade extended and her eyes on you. “Did you meet Eren?”

“Careful of his hand!” Historia squeals, shooting an arm out towards Armin as if she can deflect the tip of the blade from across the room.

“It’s fine, Stor.” Armin’s voice floats across his nearly-bare shoulder, mild and careless as it grazes the collar of the too-big button down sliding off of his slim frame.

“That knife’s a little big for a fig, Sasha.” Eren stands, placing Historia on the table and pinching her cheek when she scowls at him.

“There’s no such thing as a too-big knife– listen to me. Did you meet Eren?” Sasha’s fingers are gripping into the flesh of your arm– hard. Your eyes widen in surprise at the urgency in her eyes, like if you haven’t been introduced to Eren, there’s grave danger afoot.

“We met.” It happens quickly and easily, the slide of his heavy arm around your shoulders. You can feel your body tense under the lazy weight of him, big hand wrapped around you like it belongs there. “I don’t think she’s particularly fond of me.”

Eren shoots you a wink that you’re sure is intended to mean something, a reference to an inside joke that you have yet to establish, maybe.

“I didn’t say that,” you say in your own defense, wanting to yank Sasha to the side and demand to know why she hadn’t warned you that Cupid himself was going to greet you in the kitchen this morning. Armin slices the fig neatly in half, a strangely practiced motion performed by small, soft hands. He offers it to you again insistently, and frowns when you shake your head.

“I said I wanted it, ‘Min,” Eren says with a hint of red to his words, snatching the halved fig from Armin’s hand and biting into it voraciously, little pieces of the flesh spattered around the corner of his mouth.

“You’re such a brute,” Armin scoffs, picking the meat of his half out gingerly with an oyster fork that you don’t remember him grabbing from the drawer.

“Why don’t you like Eren?” Sasha pouts at you, grabbing the hand that’s squashed between yours and Eren’s hips. Your palm feels hot against her fingers.

“I said I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t say much of anything, to be fair.” Eren’s got the fig pressed to his mouth, digging his teeth and tongue around in the husk of it obscenely enough to make your cheeks warm. Being so close to him is filthy, that cross around his neck is looking you straight in the eye to make sure you feel it.

“Eren’s always a pest,” Historia provides from her perch on the kitchen table, picking at her perfectly manicured toenails, “why would she like him?”

“You like him plenty,” Armin says, not looking at her. It’s not the first time that’s been brought up, if Historia’s answering sneer is anything to go by.

“You’ll love him if you give him a chance.” Sasha smiles hopefully at you, nodding.

“Yeah,” Eren grins down at you, teeth colored with fig, “give me a chance.”

“Eren, you’re going to scare her off,” Armin says with a roll of his eyes, peering around Eren’s broad shoulders to look you up and down. The way his eyes drag over you makes you feel like there might be a stab wound somewhere on your person that you don’t know about yet, the adrenaline of the moment keeping you numb.

“Back off her, Eren,” Historia echoes, “she’s fun, I don’t want you to make her leave.”

“She’s not going to leave.” Eren looks directly at you as he says it, something in his smile growing imperceptibly darker. A dare. How much will you let me get away with?

You stare and stare at him, ignoring the continued bickering of Armin and Historia in the background. He’s golden and blood-red, oil smeared on his forehead and a crown of thorns nestled in his dark thatch of hair if you look close enough. If you’re not imagining it, his hand might be tightening around your shoulder, maybe he’ll leave a purple bruise on it.

“Of course not,” Sasha interrupts your thoughts, thumbing at your cheek affectionately, “she belongs here. With us.”

“She’s our little fairy,” Historia giggles dreamily, referencing the long-winded fairy tales you drunkenly make up every night, casting each other as heroines and knights and dragons.

“Right,” Eren agrees, not breaking your gaze, “our little fairy.”

The only thing that comes to mind is your childhood friend, Emma, looking on at you sadly with her muddy toes, watching the wings sprout from your back.

᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃

Days lug themselves by, barefooted and dragging their heels, and most of the time, even the monotonous rise and fall of the sun doesn’t help to differentiate one calendar block from the next. Like a bat, or maybe a slinky, silvery fish in an underwater cave, you rely on your other senses to track the passage of time.

For example, today, you know it’s a Wednesday because Maria, one of the three house chefs, brings fresh peaches up from the co-op down the hill every Wednesday. Sasha’s spent the last thirty minutes hand feeding you peach flesh as you lounge by the pool, insisting that you suck her fingers clean of juice and feeding you little sips of champagne each time you sober up enough to tell her that that’s lewd. Historia swats at you and giggles at the smacking and slurping sounds you make around Sasha’s fingers, oiled-up palm landing on oiled-up hip with a wet slap; Armin admonishes her quietly from his seat beside her, insisting the girlish noises emanating from the three of you are tearing him from his book. You can feel Eren watching, too– that’s all, though. Always just watching.

You wonder how opaque the lenses of Armin’s sunglasses are, perched haphazardly on your nose, wonder if they’re doing a good job of masking the slow lick of your gaze over Eren’s skin, wonder if you care. Maybe the champagne is finally getting to your head.

“We should go in soon,” Historia sighs, a hand tossed across her forehead. She’s a little movie star, built for the golden age. “It’s so hot.”

“It’s always this hot,” Sasha argues, and you can practically hear the furrow in her brow, not willing to take your eyes off of the trickle of sweat running down Eren’s chest to see it for yourself. You’re really getting the hang of it, this opposite-sense thing. Everything’s upside down here in the heat.

“She’s getting hungry,” Armin supplies, wiping the sweat off his palms to reach up and turn the page of his novel. Brideshead Revisited. A little on the nose, isn’t it?

“I am not!” Historia hates when people point out her appetite, but not really. She kicks up a fuss because it’s “ladylike”, and she’s advised you to do the same.

“You are,” you sigh, really feeling the heat sink into you even with the heavy, lazy movement of lolling your head to face her, “you always get hungry around this time.”

“What time is it, then?”

You don’t reply– you don’t know the answer.

“I think we’re all hungry,” Eren, ever the peacemaker when he can find the time to be so, sits up, letting the shirt that’s been shading his face fall into his lap. Your eyes track its descent– even that seems slow. He says something to you, managing a crooked grin while he squints in the heat of the sun, but you don’t hear it.

“Huh?”

“Everyone except you, anyway,” he repeats himself, reaching over Sasha and smearing his thumb through the peach juice collected on your chin. Eren’s thumb disappears between his pink lips, and when he sucks on it with a satisfied hum, your jaw clenches hard enough to hurt.

“I guess it’s getting close to dinner,” Sasha says regretfully, picking her wristwatch, a priceless Braus family heirloom, up from a puddle of orange juice and tanning oil. “We should probably clean off.”

“I might even shower twice,” Armin rubs a hand over his belly with a grimace, “this tanning oil makes my skin greasy.”

“I feel disgusting,” Historia agrees, sliding red toes into her sandals and standing with a dramatic stretch.

“Filthy,” Eren murmurs in agreement. He’s still staring at you.

“I’ll be in soon. I’m so close to the color I wanted for today– I just need, like, ten more minutes.” You peel down the strip of bathing suit stretched over your hip, showing off the distinct mark of yesterday’s color and today’s tan.

“You’re crazy,” Sasha scoffs, throwing some designer sarong her mother lent her over her shoulder, “I’m melting.”

Armin and Historia pause their bickering over who gets to wear Armin’s Cucinelli belt to dinner—Armin wants it for his trousers, Historia for her maxi dress—just long enough to offer a momentary goodbye, breezing along into the house with Sasha. You settle back into your chair and take a deep breath, letting the sun sink into you just long enough to forget that you’re not alone.

“Open up.”

You’ve been enjoying this game of trading one sense for another, and you keep your eyes shut firmly, letting your jaw fall open and your tongue hang out. A piece of peach, fleshy and dripping with juice, finds its way onto your tongue, pinched too roughly between strong fingers. When you close your lips around the fruit, the fingers stay with it, frozen in their pinched position and forcing you to suck the peach from them, to swallow around them, to run your tongue along them and get as much of the meat as you can. When the fingers withdraw from your lips, you open your eyes and gasp quietly.

Eren’s leaning over you, a solar eclipse that smells like tan skin and sounds like Campari, and in the silhouette of the sunlight, you think he’s smiling.

“You’re still hungry,” he says, a question that’s left its punctuation mark behind. You think of Historia, of the improper shame of revealing your appetite. You dodge.

“I’m never hungry.”

“Never?” Eren crawls over you to kneel between your legs, propping one of your ankles up on his shoulder. The game you started is ripped out of your hands, chess pieces flying into the pool, scattering across the table, knocking over bottles and matchbooks. It’s so silent out here in the sun it hurts, and you almost miss the constant buzzing horseflies of early summer.

“Never.”

“If you’ve never been hungry,” Eren muses, tilting his head so that his cheekbone fits into the sensitive arch of your foot, reaching a hand down to splay it wide on your belly, “you’ve never been full.”

“How do you figure?” Your words come out throaty, waterlogged.

“Can’t have one without the other.” Eren shrugs, turning his head to the side. His lips brush against your heel, your Achilles’, the swirly seashell dangling from your anklet. You dig your teeth into your bottom lip, toes twitching behind his ear. “I don’t believe you, anyway.”

“No?” You try to tilt your head coyly, like your heart’s not clawing and scratching against your throat to get to him. Hungry, indeed.

“You wouldn’t stare like that if you didn’t want to.”

You’re taken aback, but not enough to fall out of the moment– Eren’s lips closing around the knob of your ankle slowly, like the pit of a fruit, make sure of that.

“Didn’t want to what?”

Eren’s hands meet the cushion on either side of your head hard enough to rattle the chair, his long, tanned body stretching over yours. He’s close enough to brush his nose against yours, but you can still see the hazy green of his eyes flicking here and there on your face: from your eyes to your lips to the beauty mark on your cheek. Your poolside lounge feels more like a butcher’s block under your taut spine.

Sasha’s told you about the wolves in these hills, that they howl murder at night, but they’re sleepy and indulgent in the heat of the sun. One of Eren’s canines catches the light and glints at you as he grins.

“Eat yourself sick.” He practically spits it into your mouth, one thigh pressed into where you’re sticky and sinful, and he chuckles under his breath when you shudder under him, feverish in the late-afternoon heat.

Before you can even think of biting back, Eren’s off of you, picking your sandals off of the ground and sliding them gently onto your feet, stopping to run his palm from your ankle to your kneecap with an appraising hum.

“We should head inside,” he says evenly, offering a hand to pull you to your feet, “I’d hate for us to miss dinner.”

You don’t have anything to say back to him, letting him lace his fingers through yours like lines in a play, interspersing seamlessly with the summer scenery. Eren leads you through the kitchen, waits patiently for you to take your sandals off, and waves you on your way up the stairs, saying he needs a cigarette. As the distance between you grows, your mind grows clearer, and you turn on your heel, calling down to him from the top of the stairs.

“Eren? Eren? Where are you, Eren?”

“Call me something else,” Eren pokes his head around the corner, smoke pouring from the grin on his face, “whatever you want, really. Make your own name for me.”

“You stare at me, too,” you say, tearing through his impishness. Eren cocks his head, unperturbed, smile growing wide as he nods.

“I do.”

“So you’re…” You can’t bring yourself to say it, not where it might echo in the cavernous hallway, where it might take the form of a confession. You scamper down the stairs, nearly sliding on bare feet, almost crashing into Eren when he appears at the foot of the staircase, catching you with two broad palms on either side of your ribcage. You pluck the cigarette from his mouth, stick it between your own teeth, narrow your eyes accusingly, and whisper: “You’re hungry too.”

“For every man hath business and desire, Such it is.” Eren takes the cigarette back, pulling on it and making a clear show of trying to hide a smirk.

“Hamlet?”

“A woman with teeth and a brain,” Eren tilts his head at you, “aren’t you something?”

“Do you always quote Shakespeare when you want to fuck somebody?”

“Only when I want to fuck you.” Eren stubs the cigarette out on the ancient oak of the staircase railing, grins up at you brilliantly, smiles brighter when he notices how obviously flustered you are.

“I need to go take a shower,” you say hurriedly, choking on the remnants of your shame and your confidence as they burn out in your throat, making an attempt to back up the stairs away from him. Eren laughs at your attempted escape, catching you by the wrist and pulling you close to him, close enough to dizzy you on the tendrils of smoke still sticking to him. Your breath stills, your heart slows as Eren wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you together, skin on tacky skin.

“Oh, wilt thou leave me so unsatisfied?” Eren coos to you, mouth moving against your cheekbone. “C’mon, just one bite.”

“He that is proud eats up himself,” you hiss a quote back at him in response, ripping yourself from his grip and scrambling up the stairs, heart pounding and cheeks burning. You can hear a lovesick sigh follow you up to your room, and hope that the slam of the door behind you is enough to keep it from touching you.

᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃

The murky waters of your vision ripple out into clarity, and you’ve found yourself in a forest. You’ve been here before, you recognize the tall, thick trunks and the bed of fallen leaves under your feet. You’ve been coming here since you were a little girl, been wiggling your toes in the greenery since before you could remember. You never come alone.

It appears just as you remembered: a blinding glimmer of light, a flame for a head, and ribbonlike wisps of energy that beckon you like arms, like love. One step towards it, and it disappears, vanishing into nothing with an echo that might be laughter. You think it’s happy to see you.

When it reappears a few feet away, you take your first steps, sighing at the feeling of the wild enveloping you, of the prickling of your skin, kissed by the chill winding through the trees. You wish you could explore this place, so familiar and so strange all at once, but you know you have to keep moving, keep following the lights as they lead you deeper and deeper into the forest. They won’t hurt you; you aren’t sure why that’s true, aren’t sure why you keep moving. You just know better than to stop.

They lead you over a familiar path, winding past a creek, over a bed of flat stones with an ice-cold creek running over them. You never tire here, legs pumping and arms working to push yourself faster. You’ve never caught the lights, and you aren’t sure if you ever will, but again, you know better than to doubt. It feels like hours, feels like minutes, feels like purpose, chasing these lights through the forest, but suddenly, something’s new.

There’s a little chirping sound, almost conversational and too high-pitched for you to understand; you’re not even sure if you recognize the language. It ricochets around the bones in your body, touches something ancient in their marrow. You almost jerk your head to the right to find the source, but you resist, pushing ahead on your path as the lights lead you deeper. You get the feeling that you’ve gone off-script somewhere, that this is a part of the forest you haven’t seen before, but the warmth in your bones shoos your doubts away. You’ve never been this far, but it feels like home.

A growl curls around the shell of your ear, plants fear right in the center of your chest. Your eyes widen at the light before you before it disappears; you frown at the next one, not daring to speak but demanding an answer anyhow. The lights will save you, won’t they?

Shrieks from overhead, guttural, animalistic calls, howls and chatters of excitement; you never presumed to be alone in this forest, but you never presumed to be in danger, either. The lights urge you on, vanishing and regenerating at an alarming rate, your feet drumming against the forest floor faster and faster. A sliver of moonlight begins to glow from the trees a ways off, an indication that there’s a clearing ahead, and you shove the bile in your throat down, swing your arms faster, ignore the frantic fluttering of your pulse in time with the bestial chorus ringing clearer and louder from the trees with each passing second.

You do, against all odds, manage to launch yourself into the clearing, and the moment you feel the soft cushion of moss under your feet, as opposed to the branch-littered, crunchy path of the forest, you nearly stumble to your knees as your eyes adjust to the sudden brightness of the clearing. The grumblings of the woodland entities have quieted, an almost awestruck silence settling in the open space around you.

“There you are.”

Your head snaps up comically fast– “You?”

“Me,” Eren says, that razor-sharp, moonlight smile lighting up his face. He looks…right here, as if the forest is extending a sense of belonging, as if he’s been here longer than the ancient trees themselves. Even the little crown nestled atop his head is fitting: a tangle of brambles and thorns and leaves tucked into his dark locks. Is that a throne under him, that mass of branches and leaves and some silvery metal you can’t place?

His eyes glow in the starlight, illuminated with a certain hunger that you can feel reverberating through your bones. It should be frightening, but it’s enticing. You feel welcome.

“What are you doing here?” Your tongue is slower on the uptake than your mind, and you can feel the suspicious expression folding your facial features, hiding the thrum of anticipation the sight of him brings.

Eren cocks his head pityingly, smiling at you in a way that would seem predatory if it wasn’t so entirely disarming, so entirely inviting. Your feet are bringing you closer before he even speaks— you know why you’re here before he says it.

“I’ve been waiting so long,” Eren beckons you onto his lap, firmly grabbing your shoulder and silently demanding you straddle him when you try to turn away from him, “you’re beautiful, so…alive here.”

He takes a bit of your hair between your fingers and rubs it, satisfaction flickering over his face. It’s then that you realize how little fabric covers you; really, it’s only a thin, wispy excuse of a dress, hanging in tatters around your body and leaving your skin free for the taking. Taking notice of your dress leads you to take notice of another pressing matter: Eren’s naked beneath you.

“Where are we?”

“Does it matter?” Eren reaches up to toy with your hair again, smiling gently. He tilts his head up, asking you for something you can’t identify, but that you already know you’re willing to give. Your soul, maybe.

Your lips meet his in a tentative brush, a motion that feels shy, but practiced. It’s a reflex, an instinct, to kiss him this way. Eren groans gutturally against your mouth, pressing into you deeper, digging his fingertips into your bare skin. The chorus of inhuman chatter erupts around you both again, and you jump, almost pushing away from him before he stops you with a firm hand against the small of your back.

“Sh,” he whispers, nipping at your chin, “don’t pay them any mind. You’re with me, remember?”

It’s difficult at first with the ever-growing hum of life around you, but it grows increasingly easier to melt into him, to lose yourself in the rhythm of him. He’s thick and hard underneath you, pressed right where you’re already slick and ready for him, and he’s got a tight grip on your hips, working you against him to make sure you feel it and oh– do you feel it.

A debauched gasp pours from your mouth to his; Eren sinks sharp teeth into your bottom lip with a grunt of approval, pulls you up to situate you over his twitching cock. You can feel the lecherous eyes of the woodland creatures, spirits, monsters, whatever they may be around you, looking in on the sticky, tangible arousal building between your bodies. The steady glow of Eren’s eyes, the prick of the thorns in his hair under your fingertips, the insistent weight of him pressing against the wet heat of you: all of it keeps you grounded, keeps your hips rolling into Eren like your life depends on it, like it’s what you were born to do.

“Are you ready?” Eren murmurs, quiet as the grave, stilling your hips and lifting you.

“I’m not sure, I–”

“I’ve been waiting so long,” Eren interrupts, “so long for you– you’re ready for me, I know you are.”

And with that, he’s sliding you down onto his cock, splitting you open, dropping your jaw. The cacophony from the forest grows deafening, but the glowing eyes in the brush streak and blur as your eyes flutter closed, a stuttered moan falling from your lips.

“Oh–”

“Knew you were ready,” Eren sinks his teeth into your collarbone, lets you wiggle and roll your hips until he’s situated comfortably inside of you. “You were born for this. For me.”

You can’t even bring yourself to disagree, to refute, to question. It’s godly, the way he fills you, the twinge of pain in the pit of your belly that doesn’t waver, no matter which way you squirm. The longer you sit, perched upon him– you feel something akin to divinity, akin to prophecy ringing through your bones. You were born for this.

“Eren…” It’s more of a sigh than anything, a confession and an admittance of guilt, a repentance. He likes the way it tastes, you can tell by the way his hands grip you harder, roll you along his cock faster with an urgency that betrays his calm, adoring gaze. He’s sinking his claws into you, bit by bit, and you’re better for it. You belong here, with the night on your skin and Eren nestled inside of you.

“Don’t ever leave,” Eren smiles gently, as if it’s a choice, “stay with me forever.”

The pleasure’s beginning to peak in your stomach, the howls swirling in the air around you start to feel more like a blanket, the moonlight like a crown. His hands are so hot they almost burn, his tongue licking up your neck feels like a baptism. Your back is arching, your blood is rushing, the stars are speaking to you– what are they saying?

Your fingernails have left angry indents in your throat where you’ve clutched into the skin in a desperate attempt to regain your breath, shooting up out of your slumber with a vicious jolt. Your head spins with the sudden movement, the antique furnishings of the room bleeding into candlelit blurs as you heave for breath.

“Sleeping?”

You nearly jump out of your skin at the gravel of Eren’s voice, having believed yourself to be alone. Some instinctual part of your mind almost remembers falling asleep on the loveseat in the glass-enclosed sunroom earlier, one too many martinis to thank for that, but you can worry about that later– Eren’s your priority now, shirtless and leaned against the doorframe with one eyebrow raised and a very telling flush rising to his cheeks. The chilly wetness between your legs brings your dream to the forefront of your mind. Had he heard, somehow?

“What are you doing down here?” You do your best to narrow your eyes into something convincing enough to pass for annoyance, unsure if you’ve managed to pull it off with the rapid rise and fall of your chest.

“Water,” Eren says simply, raising a glass you hadn’t noticed he was holding, “but it seems like you might need it more than I do.”

“I don’t–” He ignores you, crossing the room to hand you the ornate glass. Your throat is dry, and so you drink, eyeing him suspiciously as you sip.

“Dreaming?” The corner of his mouth twitches almost imperceptibly.

“Nightmare.” You push yourself up to sit, crossing your arms defensively over your chest. “How’d you know?”

A long pause, Eren’s eyes dragging over you slowly, your skin burning. “You were squirming.”

“It was disturbing,” you say truthfully, looking over your shoulder and half-expecting to see some horrible monster leering at you from the doorway, salivating over you and Eren, “but I’ve had this same dream since I was a kid. Part of it, anyway.”

“Need company?”

“No,” you say quickly, shaken by the dream and how low Eren’s pajama pants hang on his hips, “I just need to get to my real bed. I’m sure sleeping outside had something to do with it.”

“That’s not true.” Eren’s scooping you up into his arms before you can open your mouth to argue, as if you even would. This isn’t unusual for him; you’ve grown used to his tendency to touch you, to hold you close to his chest as though you belong there. It echoes in your head, you were born for this. A shudder wracks through your body. “Cold?”

“Mhm,” you hum, not trusting your own voice. Eren nuzzles your head deeper into his shoulder, lets you get a noseful of the scent of him. Dewdrops, mankind, a rotting forest floor. It gives you a disconcerting sense of deja vu.

“Sleeping outside is good for you,” Eren goes on, scaling the stairs with impossible ease, “my mom used to tell me that.”

“Is that so?” It brings a sleepy little smile to your face, despite yourself: the image of a messy-haired, fussy baby Eren, curled up in his mother’s lap and looking up at the night sky.

“Sure.” You can hear the nostalgia in his voice. “The stars can talk to you that way, through your dreams. They show you where you’re supposed to go.”

Your blood runs cold at that– does he know? How could he? He’s a man, not a mind-reader, not a mystic. Right? You let him carry you to your door in silence, the only noise being the padding of his bare feet down the Turkish carpet runner in the hall. When he gets to your door, Eren finally starts to move to let you down, and your mouth moves without your permission, voice small and echoing in the still nighttime air.

“Eren?”

He freezes, muscles locking you in place against his chest. “Yeah?”

“Was I talking in my sleep?”

Eren settles you on your feet before answering, leaving one lingering hand on your hip and bringing the other up to brush at your cheek. Your eye must have been watering– his thumb catches a stray tear. His smile is a little too sharp when he answers.

“No, why?”

“Just wondering.” Relief courses through your body, but your muscles stay taut under his touch.

“Okay,” Eren looks you up and down one more time, as if he’s making sure you’re all there, “goodnight, then. I hope your dreams get better.”

When he turns to go, the broad silhouette of him growing darker as he retreats, you remember something fragile underneath the floorboards.

“Wait, Eren! You forgot your water.”

“My what?” When he turns to face you, he’s still grinning– baring his teeth, more like. You think you’re imagining the glow in his eyes, too fresh from that dream.

“Your water. I think I have a cup in my room if you need it.”

“Oh.” Eren waves a hand nonchalantly through the air, catching a stray stream of moonlight. You can see the dust particles dancing around his hand, enchanted by his movement. “Wasn’t thirsty."

᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃

It’s a slinky, dazzling dress; Elie Saab, Spring 2005, maybe? 2006? Sasha had lent it to you, insisted upon you taking it, really. It’s got to be worth at least your years’ rent payment, dripping with Swarovski and cut low and square across your chest, and easily the most decadent thing you’ve ever worn but– it’s family dinner night. No expense is spared.

Historia sits across from you, reaching one dainty hand out for Armin’s negroni, nearly dipping the massive drop-pearl charm on her bracelet into the first course: a cold, cucumber soup. Armin nudges her meaningfully, scowling and handing his glass to her, glancing apologetically at the stiff-backed butler across the room, who wasn’t looking anyway. Sasha’s at the head of the table, working on Historia’s serving of the cucumber soup, dunking focaccia bread into it in a voracious manner that you’re sure wasn’t outlined in the etiquette courses she’d endured as a child. And he’s next to you, naturally.

His dinner jacket looks out of place on him, oddly enough: angular and overly formal, as well-fitting as it is. You wish it was a little greener, a little more playful, something to match the Eren you’ve gotten to know under all the glitz and glamour. It’s too human for him, really, but that thought makes you shudder faster than you can shove it to the side.

“Wasn’t that the girl from Luxembourg?” Sasha asks through a giggle, finally leaning back to allow the butler to collect the remnants of her first course. Historia frowns at her, gulps back nearly half of Armin’s cocktail.

“No, the girl from Luxembourg was a slut. He wouldn’t have touched her.”

Armin and Eren exchange a look that implies that, whoever the slut from Luxembourg might have been, she didn’t escape their clutches unscathed. Historia notices the guilty smile dimpling Eren’s cheek and smacks Armin in retaliation.

“Ouch, Stori!” Armin scowls right back at her; if you didn’t know about Armin’s father’s remarriage to Historia’s mother, you’d think they were actually related.

“She was a slut,” Historia sniffs, finishing the rest of Armin’s cocktail in a second swig.

“It was Eren’s idea– you’re always punishing me for what he does.” When the staff place the second course, some sort of ceviche, in front of him, Armin crosses his arms over his chest and looks away like a huffy child. Sasha laughs and swats at his shoulder.

“Don’t pretend you don’t have your own hand in things. You can’t blame everything on Eren.”

“Maybe he can,” you shrug, the champagne going to your head. You’re feeling impish, feeling like one of them. Wildly, you reach a hand up to pinch at Eren’s cheek, smiling to yourself when you feel it turn warm under your fingers. “I mean, just look at him. He’s a devil.”

“Am not,” Eren scoffs, slapping a hand on your leg and shaking it playfully, “you weren’t there anyway. Min’s very convincing when he wants to be.”

“I am.” Armin smiles at you, head tilting intrepidly. “I can get Eren to share anything I want, I bet.”

It feels loaded, like a challenge, and Eren’s fingers tighten where he’s gripping your leg. When you chance a glance to the side at him, his jaw is tense, gaze focused on Armin like a threat, like a predator.

“Not anything,” Eren says, voice low and dangerous, more somber than you’ve ever heard him. Armin’s face falls for a millisecond, scrunching his nose at the murderous glint in Eren’s eyes, before he clenches his jaw and glances between the two of you with a haughty smirk.

“Est-ce vrai? En êtes-vous sûr? Tu l'as dit toi-même - je suis convaincant quand je veux quelque chose.”

“Ne commencez pas avec moi, pas pour ça.” It’s hardly louder than a murmur, but the threat carries all the same. You look to Sasha with widened eyes, hoping for a translation, but she’s chewing slowly on a bite of her ceviche, looking at Armin, Eren, then Armin again with a strange expression you’ve never seen before.

A heavy silence settles over the table, Eren’s fingertips leaving sore spots through your dress where they’re digging into your thigh, and Armin’s eyes dancing over Eren’s face, that same smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth. Daring.

“You two are so in love,” Historia gripes with a roll of her eyes, smashing the carefully-cubed ceviche on her plate into a mush. You eye the smear of meat on her fork disdainfully and set down the bite you had been about to pop in your mouth, opting for your glass of bubbles instead.

The jokingly grumpy lilt of Historia’s comment seems to cut the thread of tension that had grown taut between the two men, as Armin allows Sasha to pull him away from Eren and back into his corner of the table with her and Historia. Their conversation drones on, the ethics of Eren and Armin’s tendency to tag-team women fading into the background as you wait for Eren’s hand to slip from your thigh. It doesn’t.

His thumb rubs idly over the slit of your dress, brushing it back and forth over your bare skin for just long enough to get you used to the pressure of his palm beaming heat through the thin fabric, get your guard down. And then his fingers slip underneath, grabbing into the hot flesh of your thigh.

You jump ever so slightly, flighty as a fawn, and Eren chuckles under his breath beside you when you choke a bit on your champagne. He’s cool—stoic, even—as he bashfully bats away the scandalous insinuations of Sasha and Historia’s storytelling, the lewd raise of Armin’s eyebrows at the mention of a certain leggy redhead in Prague. His hand stays steady, possessive and permanent on your leg. When Armin and Historia start arguing over yet another of Armin’s alleged missteps with one of her college friends, Eren takes the opening to lean into you, murmuring into your ear.

“What’s got you so jumpy?” His breath puffs out hot and sensual against the shell of your ear, and you can feel your earring lifting with the movement of his lips. He’s so close.

“Not jumpy,” you answer under your breath, trying to keep your composure.

“Hm,” Eren hums, leaning back just enough to study your profile, “wasn’t sure if you’d dozed off, started dreaming again.”

Your head whips towards him in what is surely an uncouth accusation of insinuation, borne of shock, but luckily, Armin’s too busy being hand-fed ceviche by Sasha and scolded by Historia to notice. Other than his eyes, Eren’s stiller than death, watching over the antics with the littlest smirk pulling at the corner of his lips. His eyes, though, flick down to you, glinting like a dare.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means something?” It’s a challenge, and you realize too late that the rope around your ankle has cinched, and you’re caught in his trap.

“No,” you say, hoping for more conviction in your voice, but it comes out as a breathy whisper. The corner of Eren’s mouth twitches, and it pulls an irritated huff from you.

“Tell me about your dream. The one that woke you up the other night.”

“Tell you– w-what? Here?”

“Yes, here,” Eren repeats you, quiet and calm, keeping one eye on your bickering friends to ensure you’re kept all to himself, “unless it’s something you can’t share.”

The blanching of your face tells him everything he needs to know, and that sickening admission almost overshadows the fact that he knows. He undeniably knows, now; maybe not the specifics, but enough to know that you had woken up sticky and gasping after a sinful dream. Maybe he even knows it was about him.

You’ve given up on trying to understand the otherworldly elements of Eren; the way he seems to appear at inopportune moments and know what you’re thinking at every turn, but this is too much. You quickly realize that while you’re not sober, you’re certainly not drunk enough to deal with him, and you finish your glass of champagne in a single gulp.

“You’re one to talk about sharing,” you hiss at him, trying to will away the goosebumps prickling your arms as his fingers inch higher, skating along soft skin. Eren’s demeanor falters, if only for a moment– he looks frustrated.

“Didn’t you hear me?” Eren leans into you, brows furrowing. “I don’t share just anything, and especially not just because ‘Min wants a taste.”

“Am I yours to share?” That heavy swig of champagne has gone straight to your head it seems, as you turn your face up to him defiantly, finally saying the quiet part out loud. The weight falls off your shoulders like a head, and you can almost feel the itch of the guillotine at your neck as the words leave your mouth. Eren, ever the gentle executioner, only lets the calm fascination return to his face, brings his fingers further up your thigh.

“Tell me about your dream, hm? They’re not listening, it’s just you and me.”

He’s only inches away from where you’re already beginning to grow hot and wet– he hasn’t even done anything, and you want to chastise yourself over the undeniable need beginning to bubble inside you. Eren’s smiling so sweetly, as if he’s lulling you into a sense of complacency, and your tongue hangs heavy in your mouth, eager to spill your secrets.

“I…I’m scared.”

Eren’s eyebrows raise and his smile grows a bit toothier, disbelief written plain on his face. “Of me?”

“Sometimes,” you say, small and honest as the grave, “it’s like you aren’t real.”

“I’m very real,” Eren insists, two fingers pressing against the damp silk of your panties, his eyes lighting up when you stifle a gasp, “doesn’t that feel real?”

“Wait–”

“The dream,” Eren says again, increasing the pressure of his fingers, “were you scared of me there, too?”

“Yes,” you whisper, ashamed and painfully cognizant of the feel of him between your legs, “I was in a forest, running after the little lights, they– I’ve seen them for a long time.”

“Since you were a child,” Eren repeats your confession from the other night. He’s reading you, you realize, not like a book, but like a poem. You couldn’t put the difference into words if you had to, but there’s a certain melody to the flickering of his gaze over your hot face.

“They’ve never led me anywhere before,” your words hitch in your throat, stopped dead when Eren’s fingers start rubbing circles over your swollen clit. The silk is thin and soaked, and his fingers slide over you in a way that feels god-given. Your jaw hangs ever-so-slightly, the butlers coming to change the course. You wait for Eren to slip his hand out from under your dress, fearful of the staff watching as he toys with you, but he only nods encouragingly.

“Keep going.”

“Um,” you stammer, swallowing thickly and glancing at the plate of bleeding, rare filet in front of you, “they took me to a clearing in the forest. There were creatures, ones I’ve never seen before.”

“Did they hurt you? Any of them?” A furrow appears between his eyebrows, deep and concerned. Some small part of your brain, muted since Eren’s hand slid beneath your dress, worries itself with why Eren seems so disquieted with your dream– it’s not like you actually could have been hurt, it was only a dream. Wasn’t it?

“No, they stayed away. They just made a lot of noise, but they all got quiet when…”

A knowing smirk. “When?”

“When I saw you.”

Eren pats your thighs gently, urging them apart; he looks relieved, exhilarated, unreal. If you didn’t know better, you’d think his eyes were glowing in the candlelight. Armin, Historia, and Sasha’s clamor across the table grows louder with each passing second, but as soon as you begin to wonder if you should be doing a better job of hiding what’s very clearly happening under the slit of your dress, Eren’s fingers have wiggled their way beneath the fabric of your silk thong. Your teeth dig into your bottom lip, eyes widening.

“I was glad to see you,” Eren says quietly, “in the dream, I mean.”

“You said you’d been waiting for me,” you whisper, keeping your voice low to hide the whine scratching at the back of your throat, “that you’d been waiting a long time.”

“I bet I was,” Eren hums thoughtfully, grinning viciously when he sinks a finger into you, clearly relishing the way your fingernails tighten into his wrist. “I never lie.”

“Even in a dream?” You feel fuzzy and warm, blinking moony, worried eyes up at him. Eren shakes his head in confirmation, curling his finger and making your thighs clench. “You put me in your lap, and–and, you had a crown. It was nighttime, I think, and the moon was really bright. You were inside me.”

Eren slides another finger in to match the first, and you’re hardly able to stifle a moan when it comes fluttering through your teeth, a breeze of a sound compared to what you’re struggling to keep captive in your chest. Eren’s other hand reaches forward to grab a small piece of the carved steak, brings the meat up to your mouth and brushes it over your lips.

“Eat,” Eren instructs, smiling placidly as you mindlessly obey, biting into the red meat, “but keep telling me.”

He waits patiently for you to chew around the bite of steak he’s offered you, eyes searching you for something– what it is, you can’t be sure. Your mind is wobbling around the flashes of memory of your dream, distracted every few steps by an overwhelming rush of pleasure from between your legs, Eren’s fingers curling incessantly against your walls. You swallow, never taking your eyes off of him.

“You fucked me.” The confession is breathless when it leaves you, and even through the haze of what you pray isn’t a rapidly-approaching orgasm, you don’t miss the way Eren’s shoulders stiffen, the way his eyes flash.

“Did I fuck you, or did you fuck me?” Eren murmurs back to you, mischief in his eyes and a tense gravel to his voice. “You said you were in my lap, after all.”

“I—oh, god—I don’t know,” you’re barely able to keep your voice low, a little whimper interrupting you, “Eren–”

“Keep going, it’s okay,” Eren’s fingers don’t slow– in fact, they begin to move more harshly, “you’re safe with me, you know that. I showed you in the forest, didn’t I?”

“Mhm.” You can’t stop your forehead from falling onto his shoulder, teeth digging into your lip so hard you aren’t sure if that coppery taste is from the steak, or your own blood. The conversation in the room, despite being made by only three people, feels like a deafening rush in your ears.

The realization hits home that Eren’s going to make you cum all over his fingers in front of your friends, the staff, and your dinner, and he’s going to wrench it out of you in a matter of seconds, if the tightening of your gut is anything to go by.

“What else?” Eren practically growls in your ear, low and hoarse. “Is there anything else?”

“You asked me– fuck, you asked me something.” Your hips are canting forward into his palm, your face tacky and warm thinking about the couture fabric under you, now drenched in your cum and sweat. “Eren, you have to slow down, please–”

He’s merciless, pumping his fingers into you ceaselessly, rendering you a lost cause. “What did I ask you?”

“You asked—oh, my god—asked if I, if I would stay with you forever.”

“What was your answer?”

You can’t respond, not with the way you’ve stopped breathing to swallow down the debauched moan bubbling in your chest. Your entire body tenses, strung tight as a bow around Eren’s fingers as the knot in your stomach unravels, cool, inevitable release finally crashing over you. Eren works you through it, murmuring little hushes into your hairline, and placing a comforting hand over your fingers that are digging into his wrist, smiling against your forehead as you slide your hips back and forth over his hand.

You manage to pull the whole thing off impressively subdued, no more than a tinny whimper leaving your lips, only to be absorbed by the sleeve of Eren’s dinner jacket. When you dare to sit up, to meet Eren’s eyes, he’s still looking at you expectantly, as if that wasn’t enough.

“I can’t believe you just did that,” you whisper, waiting for Historia to chastise you, or Armin to make a lewd comment. The three of them are still arguing, Sasha stealing bites from Armin’s plate each time he turns to snap at Historia, who’s now sitting amongst a crowd of empty crystal glasses.

“What was your answer?” Eren says again, pulling his fingers from you and smirking at the glisten that stretches down into his palm.

“I woke up,” you say with shaky conviction, trying to glare at him.

“Are you still scared of me?” Eren asks innocently, picking up a piece of his steak with his hand and feeding it to you again. Your cum mixes in with the flavor of the steak, gives it a certain tang and salinity that makes your heart beat faster, even though you’ve just floated back down to consciousness.

“I– I don’t think so, but…” you trail off, looking down at the plate. Eren brings another piece to your lips, letting you bite half and giving the rest to himself, not missing the opportunity to suck on the tips of his fingers. Your thighs press together when his eyes flutter shut, knowing what he’s tasting and watching him revel in it.

“But what?”

“I don’t think I understand you,” you confess breathlessly, “I think that’s what scares me. I spend all day looking at you, and I never feel closer to understanding you, to really touching you. It’s like you’re not…” you trail off in search of the right word.

“Real?” Eren cocks an eyebrow at you.

“Human,” you say without entirely meaning to, widening your eyes at him in apology. “I’m sorry, not in a bad way necessarily, but– you feel…like you’re above me. In a sense.”

“Above you?” Eren frowns, forgetting his dinner entirely and looking straight at you with rejection written all over his face, wrinkles you want to smoothe over with your thumb.

“I just…” you sigh, finding it harder to meet his gaze by the second, “I don’t understand what you want with me.”

“Still?” Eren tilts his head. “Even after that?”

“The dream?” You nearly chuckle in exasperation. “It was just a dream, that’s all.”

Eren frowns a little, reaches for your glass of champagne– oh, god, when had that been refilled?– and hands it to you. He watches you take one sip, and then another, that concentrated pull of his eyebrows never ceasing until you reach a shaky hand out for your fork, beginning to feed yourself small bites of steak. His perplexed expression ripples out into one of contentedness, smiling gently as he watches you take care of yourself.

“All days are nights to see till I see thee, and nights bright days when dreams do show me thee,” Eren finally says, looking at you very much like you’re supposed to be parsing something out from his quote.

“On to the sonnets now, are we?” You cock a playful eyebrow at him, despite your tired, slouching posture and your repeated attempts to keep your guard up. Eren grins mischievously, leaning in as if he means to press the tip of his nose to yours.

“I know no ways to mince it in love, but directly to say–”

“If it be love indeed, tell me how much?” You’re quicker than him on this one, a vicious little smirk cutting across your face when you manage to cut him off. Eren’s eyebrows raise, impressed, but you don’t keep him down for long.

“There’s beggary in love that can be reckoned,” Eren finally says, twirling the ring on your pinky absentmindedly. You don’t even remember when he laid his hand atop yours, but it feels heavy and comforting, and so you let it lie there, just for the time being.

Your post-orgasm exhaustion hits you like a train, the temptation to slump against Eren’s shoulder winning out over your propriety. You’ll sit back up by the fourth course, you tell yourself, nibbling on a large piece of parsley that had come as a garnish on your plate. Eren doesn’t seem to mind the weight of your fuzzy head nodded into the cotton of his shoulder; in fact, he seems to adjust himself so you can nuzzle closer, eyes blinking owlishly as you reach for your glass of bubbles. You’re teetering dangerously close to the edge of unconsciousness, and you almost wouldn’t care, until something catches your eye.

Over the rim of your glass, Historia is staring at you. It’s not a look of admonishment, but more…caution? Concern? Pity? All you can discern for certain is that Historia must have seen everything Eren did to you, everything he’s still doing to you, taking a caviar bump off the back of his hand and laughing at Armin, shoulder shaking under your cheek. Historia’s brows furrow at you, her bottom lip wavering slightly.

You sit up suddenly, ignoring the way the room spins with the speed of your action. Eren turns his head to you, surprised, only to follow your gaze across the table to Historia. You’re trying to keep from looking at him, but you can’t help yourself, watching his expression crumple into something stern and disparaging.

Historia withers for only a moment, before narrowing her eyes at him threateningly. Eren squeezes his hand around yours. Sasha shoves Historia admonishingly for not listening to her joke. Armin’s eyes focus in on where your fingers grip your champagne flute hard enough to turn white.

You think you see a few pairs of familiar, glowing eyes in the bushes outside, peering in on the scene at the table. You think you need to go to bed.

#eren jaeger x reader #eren yeager x reader #eren jaeger smut #eren yeager smut #eren jaeger fanfiction #aot #aot fanfic #eren jaeger x you #eren yeager x you #attack on titan x reader #aot x reader #that's all for now folks!!!!#more to come in part 2<3

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valeriele3 · 20 days

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hello! I've been craving some octotrio angst and was wondering if you would indulge lol. if it's within your boundaries, what about a reader who struggles with self harm?

Octotrio x GN!Yuu/Reader

The reader in this fic is Yuu although the fic is mostly in 2nd pov ^^; Warnings: Self-harm(reader/Yuu), attempted suicide(reader/Yuu), and implied depression(reader/Yuu), not proofread (Please lmk if I missed smth) Words: 2019

Self-harm

It was one of the things you thought you'd never do.

Everything was perfect; your life was perfect, or so you thought.

You were grateful; you really were. You had both your parents, had nice siblings, or, if you ignore the usual sibling shenanigans, they were nice, your grandparents had always supported you, you had a lot of friends, good grades, you never had to go through a day with an empty stomach, and even lived in a decently sized house.

So where did it all go wrong? Why have you fallen into this hole? When did it start?

All you knew was that one moment everything was perfect, and the other everything seemed to crumble down.

Little by little, the beautiful tower you had built crumbled and turned into ruin.

The anger, the sadness, and the fatigue that you had been keeping locked away burst open, spilling all over.

No matter how much you try to scoop it up and place it back into its container, it leaks back. After all, a broken container can't keep everything inside; it'll continue to leak.

The festering emotions got too much to handle.

And so, you just gave up.

Why try to contain something that'll somehow keep getting out?

You hid

You cried

Pleading that someone, anyone, to help you, to rescue you, to be that prince who rescues his damsel in those fairytales you've read as a child.

But, oh, you've mistaken something. Life isn't a fairytale; it never was and isn't even close to being one. This is reality; there is no shining prince to rescue you, and there is no happily ever after.

But then, you thought of something; why not distract yourself instead?

If, for even a second, you could forget about your troubles, wouldn't that be great?

Although temporarily, you can be free.

'Ah, but isn't self-harm bad?'

'I̵̬͝'̸̨̈́m̷̘͒ ̸͙̅s̷̹̋u̶̫͗r̵̠̾e̸̘͝ ̶̳̈́i̵͓͂t̷̤͊'̷̞̓ṣ̷̃ ̶̪̆f̴̮̔i̸̳͆n̸̜̊e̵̤̍.̸̱̈́ ̸͎͝Ì̷͖t̸͙͠'̶͇̄s̴̻͛ ̶̛̼ó̴ͅn̴̝͝l̸̤͛ý̵̤ ̴̹̔ó̴̖n̴̖̄c̶̻̈́e̵̦͘ ̶̟̀o̷̻̎r̶̺͛ ̷̬̄t̵̜̏ẃ̴̠i̴̗̇c̵̱͌ȩ̶̑ ̶̺͋a̶̱͋n̷̪͘ỳ̴̖w̷̤̐a̷̟͋ỳ̸̟.̵̠̂'

'Just o̵̪͒n̴̜̈c̵̤̃e̴͕̚ then..'

Oh, how foolish you were.

Once someone feels the relief they've been longing for, it's hard to let go.

They'll keep seeking it.

They'll keep wanting.

They'll grow to be reliant on that addictive feeling of your worries going away.

With each passing day, week, and month, the scars on your arm increase.

Your family has grown worried.

Their once cheerful child suddenly turned gloomy. Oh, what could have happened to their beloved child? But alas, they never dared to ask.

They just watched as you spiraled down into the abyss.

Everyone did

T̶̻̑h̶̄ͅĕ̷͖r̸̩̀a̶̫̕p̴̝͝y̶̧̎

You and your 'friends' were hanging out during lunch.

You sat at the farthest corner, listening to their laughter, when suddenly one of them piped up, "Hey, Yuu, you should go to a therapist; otherwise, you might just infect everyone with that gloom you have." Everyone seemed to think it was funny and burst into laughter.

That comment was obviously a jab at you, but.. maybe they were right.

A therapist—you never thought of that. Maybe.. you can return to your old ways if you try it out.

You had been going to a therapist for the past 2 years.

The progress is slow, but there's a bit of improvement, at least.

You were slowly returning to being a "normal human being."

You'll be free.

Soon

You'll be free from the shackles.

You just have to endure a bit more.

'̶̯͠A̶͓͠h̸͎̊,̵͇̈ ̸̺̍ȟ̶̜o̷̬͒w̵̠̎ ̸̤̏s̸̬̅t̸͙͠ǘ̸̠p̷̙͝i̷̯͝d̶͔̂ ̷͈̚I̶̧͗ ̷̤̉w̴̩̄ȃ̸ͅs̸̠̿ ̴͚̀ť̴̫o̴͉͛ ̴̜͗b̸͎̏ę̷̂l̷̰̂ị̶̈́ẻ̵̩v̴̟͐e̶̗͘ ̷͒͜ḽ̷͌ì̷͙f̶̹̓ḙ̷̂ ̶͒͜w̸̻̿o̷͚͛ų̴̛l̶͈̉d̵̠̀ ̷̧̈́b̵̛̜e̷͍̾ ̴͙̓t̴̞̋h̶̥̍à̶̫t̶̖̿ ̶͈͛ë̶͎́a̸̭̍s̷͚͂y̷̼̾'̴̯͝

Just when you thought life had finally smiled upon you

Everything seemed to crumble again.

Your failing grades had caught up to you; your family is now struggling to make ends meet; and the people around you slowly left one by one.

"̵̭́W̷͔͂h̵̯̚ỵ̸̐?̴̧̕"̷̰͆

̸̳̂"̵̦͊I̵̡͝'̶̺̑l̷̼̈́l̸̬͌ ̴͓͠b̸̩͌e̷̳͒ ̶̪͝b̴̨͆ḛ̶̊ṯ̸͘t̵͈̅e̵͓͐r̸̫̃ ̶̮͝t̵̫̓h̵̻͐i̷̖̅ș̴̎ ̸̞͌t̶̼̆i̵͓̿m̸͓̀ë̵̻́!̵̪͂ ̴̙̀P̴̋ͅl̶͔̾e̸͇͌a̴͍̾s̶̬͝e̴͉͑ ̴̺̈́c̶̜͊o̷̘͝m̷̩͛é̶̟ ̷̜̊b̷̦͝ä̶͎́c̷͍̐k̶̩̓!̸̭̒"̶̞́

Everything crumbled beyond repair

Life.. felt hopeless and useless; it was painful.

You were walking down the street when you thought

'Maybe if I were to rush into oncoming traffic, my pain will finally end'

Just as you were about to take a step towards the traffic, you heard a horse neighing.

You turn your head to the left and see a carriage heading your way.

You were frozen.

One part wanted to move away from danger, and the other wanted to stay in place.

Y̵͚̋ò̵̝u̴͍͑ ̴͔̍w̴̪͆ã̴̙n̷̠͝t̷̖͌e̴̳̍d̶̖̑ ̸̦͆t̵̗͑o̷̫̓ ̶̙̉l̶̞̔i̵̦̿v̵̩̈́e̷̡̔

Not even a second later, you collide with the carriage.

'Ah, I guess I really am destined for a bad ending'

"Shrimpy~, wake up!"

"Floyd, I'd wish for you to please not bother the prefect."

"Eh~, but they're cryin' in their sleep."

"What?" Jade and Azul say in sync.

"Floyd! What did you do?!"

"Wha~t? Me? I didn't do anythin'!"

"Don't blame me, blame Jade!"

"I don't see why I should be blamed, Floyd."

"I bet you made Shrimpy cry with your weird mushrooms!"

"I don't see any reason for my sweet innocent mushrooms to be dragged into this conversation" Jade says, giving his signature customer service smile.

Grumbles and mischevious laughter fill the room.

"All right, stop it, both of you. You'll wake the prefect up if you continue this childish banter."

"Aha ha! It looks like your warning came off late, Azul~"

"Welcome to the world, Shrimpy!"

"Ahem..I believe it was, "Welcome back to the land of the living," Floyd" Jade snickers.

Floyd ignores Jade and opts to engulf you in a hug instead.

You feel him squeeze tighter and tighter until you can barely breathe.

"F-Floyd- a-ir"

Azul gives Jade a pointed look, signaling him to stop Floyd in his assault lest you go back to being knocked out.

After catching your breath, you look around the room you're currently in.

You were in the lounge VIP room.

"Ahem, um, what am I doing here?"

"Hm? Do you not remember?" Azul turns to you

"No, I don't think so.?"

Floyd was about to say something when suddenly Azul stopped him from saying anything further.

"Jade"

"Yes sir"

With that simple exchange, Jade drags Floyd out of the room.

'Weird..'

"Since it seems that you've forgotten, allow me to refresh your memory."

"You see, you came here to have lunch, but then suddenly you fainted! We were so worried that we decided to graciously let you rest in here until you woke up."

"I see.." 'I guess that explains why my head is sore..Although it feels more like I got hit rather than some sort of mental pain..'

You decide to trust Azul this time

"Anyways, feel free to rest some more or leave if you feel like you can move without any problems."

"Right, well then, thank you for taking care of me." You begin to stand up, only to almost fall down.

It seems that your leg fell asleep.

You chuckle awkwardly. "Or... maybe staying a bit won't hurt."

"I..Please stay as long as you find necessary." Azul pretends to have seen nothing.

After resting for a bit, you exit the room and walk around the place.

Noticing a glint in the corner, you turn your body towards the source.

You come face-to-face with a room full of aquariums.

No, can you even call it that? The room was so majestic, it almost felt as if you were in the ocean itself.

It felt.. relieving, serene, and healing.

Suddenly, you were engulfed in a hug.

You tried to turn your head, but the person ensured that you wouldn't be able to see them, even hiding their face in the crook of your neck.

But hidden or not, you could easily tell it was Floyd. Due to the number of times he'd hugged you, you learned to recognize it right away when it was him who hugged you.

"Who made you cry?" His voice, barely above a whisper, was laced with concern, sadness, and anger.

"Cry? What do you mean, Floyd?"

You received no reply.

Just as you were about to speak up, your eyes got covered by someone's hands.

Naturally, you started to panic, but then a gentle voice spoke, "Don't keep everything inside. It's alright to cry." You recognized the voice to be Jades.

The tightness around your chest, your vision blocked, only able to rely on your sense of hearing

It would make one panic.

It felt suffocating, but.. for once in your life, this tightness, this darkness you feel around you, felt warm, comforting, welcoming, and protecting.

Footsteps..

You hear footsteps make their way towards you.

You can hear them stop in front of you.

"Yuu, don't be afraid. It's alright, you can let it all out."

"We'll be here supporting you."

It was Azul; he tries to sound confident and maintain his usual composure, but you can easily tell by his tone of voice that he feels awkward saying this.

Suddenly, you feel a sort of gust of wind, and next thing you know, the solid floor you had been standing on is gone.

You panic once again and try to speak up, but a finger, presumably Azuls, shushes you.

The tweels let go of their hold on you. You opened your eyes, and in front of you was complete darkness.

"Jade? Azul? Floyd? Where are you?"

You turn but something feels off.

The pressure you feel makes it feel like you're underwater.

All of a sudden, a light enters your field of vision.

Two blobs?

You notice the two glowing things getting closer to you.

Hurriedly, you try to swim away as fast as you can, but something else keeps you in place.

Something slippery, like tentacles, held you in place.

You close your eyes, accepting your fate, but after a few beats of nothing happening, you open your eyes to see once again, only this time you could actually see something and not just darkness.

In front of you were the tweels, with one of them barely being able to contain his laugh, and the tentacles that held you in place belonged to none other than Azul Ashengrotto himself.

Upon noticing your gaze, the octopus man, as if acting on instinct, slaps your face in the other direction.

You stare dumbfoundedly.

"Ah, ahem..I sincerely apologize for.. slapping you, Prefect."

Floyd, no longer able to contain his laughter, bursts out laughing, "Pfft- Aha ha! Shrimpy looked so scared, and Tako-chan accidentally..Pfft"

Azul gave Floyd a pointed glare. "Hmph, and here I thought you'd dropped that Tako-chan ages ago" he mumbled.

"Fufu~ As entertaining as this is, I'm afraid you guys just traumatized the prefect."

After giving all the explanations (Especially how you're able to breathe underwater and not die from the water pressure..) and needed sorry's, they officially started the so-called "Give the Prefect a relaxing day." mission.

The name really didn't match any of the events that happened today, but.. you can't do anything about what's already happened, sadly.

And so, the rest of the day consisted of them dragging you around the ocean and showing you things they thought you'd like.

Visiting the city and just having fun.

"Azul, Jade, Floyd! Look! It's ice cream! Underwater!! This has to be magical ice cream!"

The octotrio watched as you admired the ice cream you had in your hand. It was like watching a child see ice cream for the first time.

Seeing the smile on your face, the trio deemed the mission accomplished.

Tired, you and the trio decided to rest in a nearby, secluded spot.

"Thank you"

"Hm? Did you say something, Prefect?" Jade asks.

"Ah, no, it's nothing." You smile, silently thanking the trio once again.

After a while, you unknowingly fell asleep, and when you awoke, you were back at the Ramshackle dorm, safely tucked away in bed.

You figured that maybe what happened was just a dream.

Unbeknownst to you, however, while you were still asleep, the trio swore an oath to make sure you were protected and would never be hurt again. Be it physical or mentally

The scars on your arms felt different this time around. As if someone had kissed it so lovingly and thanked you for being still alive that you were still here in the world, but, oh well, it's probably just your mind making things up, right?

.ೃ࿐Reblogs are highly appreciated! ^^

I'm so sorry for this abominationnnn. I lost all the vision I had by the time the trio appeared, and when I regained it, it was already too late, as I had already written a lot. And the ending is so rushed too T-T

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silvershiningtarot · 4 months

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PAC: What Happened In A Past Life With Your Spouse? Pt1

Disclaimer: This is about a past life between you and your celebrity crush and I'm going to make a part 2 if you are destined to be with them in this lifetime. So remember this is a general reading and I know some y'all know these. Other celebrities. Let's dig in and see if you have a past life with these people. Take what resonates and leave the rest. This is Four Piles. Breathe and out and meditate on these piles.

https://www.patreon.com/Silvershiningtarot

Pile 1: Okay, either you or they embody a lot of feminine energy. I think you or they were very independent. I sense you met them at a wedding. A few of you probably met your Spouse you at a wedding that's what I'm picking up. But oh yeah!! I'm getting a sense this could've been your Yang and you were the Yin or it could be the opposite around. Either way, their energy was strong 💪 I'm sensing. I have a feeling either you or they went off to war. Why am I feeling a family member went off to war like the Army? They had to fight for their country. I'm getting that either you or your spouse was upset about it. Okay, either, you or your Spouse got cheated on. I see that it could've been you while your husband/wife went off to war. Or they dealt with someone who cheated on them. It does suck. But remember you are not in that past anymore. I'm hearing a lesson learned. Ahh! An ex put a curse on them so this curse is probably brought over in this lifetime. Or this curse has been following them or you for a long time. Your spouse is part of y’all soul tribe! This is your soul family and they are yours. I think this was your best friend and I am not sensing that you guys did each other bad. Even if you two did, I do feel that you two dealt with it. Both of you made peace with it. What did I say!? Masculine Energy. This was a very yin and yang vibe between you and your Spouse. Or you/your Spouse might of embodied a lot of masculine energy. Honestly, I sense that your husband was the wild one. That is what I'm picking up. Whenever you went off to work your husband took care of the household. So I've noticed that there seems to be a healing connection here in this past life. Don't worry we will go in a little further than this. Ohh! I think that Celebrity Crush (FS) deals with EA (Emotional Abuse) so they kinda traumatized them or you got traumatized by that. I feel this vibe that this kindred spirit helped you. Or vice versa. Some of y’all celebrity crushes that you dealt with in that life before incarnating down here seems to be wasn't so bad. I get this feeling y'all didn't do anything bad to each other. I can feel it strongly. You guys didn't do anything to each other. Of course, you two had y'all ups and downs. I felt a normal vibe for a pile. I'm hearing a song in my head for this Pile. Both you and your FS are star-crossed lovers I noticed that and I feel that. You two are connected to the stars ⭐️. Teenage dream vibes, you two were like teenagers.

Pile 2: Oh snap, 🫰 I think that some

Of you met your true love ❤️ in the past life. The second you met them you two activated each other. Both of you have a spiritual bond. It’s like you both find each other. I feel that your spouse was a female and you were the male and your spouse became a mother. Yeah, this was your true love and this was a once in a lifetime. You've met them at the right time. Again, I was right! The roles were switched in a past life. But I sense that your spouse was the female and they became a mother. Both of you had a fairytale connection, I feel that you two are meant to have it again. But that's pt2 of something else. Anyway, I feel like a few of you married your true love and it was happiness and wish fulfillment. I feel that your spouse was obsessed with love or you could've been obsessed with love. This makes me think that your person 👭 was a hopeless romantic kind of person. Feminine Energy! This reminds me of Pile 1 in a sense. I think that your Spouse always makes themselves pretty for you whenever you come home from work. Soul vibration I feel that this true love was your soulmate. I wanna cry 😭 in this pile. Because this is so beautiful no matter what you guys stick together. I feel that you got them and they got you. It's that the second you see your Spouse you fall for them deeply. That's amazing to me. I think you or your spouse was a priest or priestess. I think that your spouse or you were Spreading their spirituality to the world. I feel that both of you activated each other. I'm talking about opening each other's 3rd eye chakra. I am hearing “meant to do it again.” again, whoever this celebrity spouse is whoever you're thinking about or feeling then in this lifetime it's meant to happen again. If this happening for y'all then tell me what happens because OMG 😱 so beautiful. WHAT DID I SAY!? So beautiful, soulmates this could be your high-vibe soulmate 🤭🤭💋. This is your perfect match. Both of you give each other safety, security, and comfort. I keep hearing “Meant to do it again.” Your true Love coming back down in this life. But this is a past life. That's a song I've heard in my head.

Pile 3: Marriage Union. I feel in a past life you and your spouse switched roles. Where you were the male and your spouse was the female. I think that you two overcome a lot of hardship between you and your spouse. I think you two finally have your victory. For a few of you, I think that you or your spouse was sort of a player. I heard “not them.” I’m guessing that you never hurt 🤕 your spouse like that. I feel those were your past mistakes. It is like when someone meets their spouse they stop all the childish games. That's how I feel about what happened to you. Wow, that's amazing you two activate each other. I feel that you both have a 5D connection and yes, of course, you guys are starseeds. See! I was right, look at those past mistakes! You've done in the past are over now. I feel that your spouse helped you humble you down. I feel very proud of this pile 3. Especially, the piles with y'all celebrities' crushes. Give yourself around applause 👏🏽. I was right! Both of you switched roles. They could've been your neighbor, teacher, or a student in a past life but it is something important. I feel this curse tried to break y'all apart but nothing stands in y'all way I mean nothing. You two stay together for a very long time. Aww! I did get that one aha! High school sweetheart. I feel both of you dealt with unrequited love for a long time until you met your true love and I feel that you're meant to do it again in this life. Don't get me wrong everything is free will but I feel that no matter what you two are magic 🎉 I mean magical souls.

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imagining-in-the-margins · 11 months

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hi!! do you have any fic recs for non-bau!reader x spencer? i’m not too picky just would love to read about navigating a domestic relationship with an agent while being entirely NOT in that field! so maybe something fluffy (but never opposed to smutty). thank you in advanced 🧚‍♀️

Hey friend! I've compiled most of my Civilian!Reader fics here, although I will say not a lot of them focus on the difficulties navigating the job. For that, you'll find the most luck with my two most popular series below. Otherwise, it's a somewhat eclectic group of fics, which I hope you can still enjoy ❤️

If anyone has any favorite fics that the anon might be interested in, please share them in the comments or reblogs! Self-promotion is always welcome!

S.R. Series (NSFW, 18+ MINORS DNI)

The Birds & The Bees (ongoing series): Prof!Spencer, Virgin!Reader. Reader interviews for a position as Dr. Spencer Reid’s Teaching Assistant, and Spencer learns something special about her.

Here to Misbehave (completed series): Spencer meets a girl he can’t get enough of at the nightclub, then quickly realizes she is not supposed to be there.

S.R. SFW Oneshots

Dead Air: Professor Reid is hesitant to be a guest on his old student’s true crime video series, but is surprised to find it’s not so bad.

Defining Family: Spencer finds out he’s a dad… to a twelve year old girl. Your twelve year old girl, who just broke into the FBI.

Devil’s Advocate: Spencer’s been hooking up with the defense attorney in secret. At some point what was purely physical turned into something else.

Fairytales: Spencer comes home to his very tired wife and even more tired child who refused to go to bed without a bedtime story from their dad.

Funny Thing Fate: Autistic!Reader is tipsy and lost in D.C. when she spots a man she thinks might be able to help.

Haunted: Spencer’s never told anyone what happened in prison.

Growing Pains: Spencer finds unfamiliar lingerie in the laundry. When he confronts his wife, he learns it belongs to their teenage daughter.

Intentions: Spencer’s teenage daughter wants to have a conversation with you about your intentions with her father.

It’s Personal: Reader reminds Spencer’s team that it’s never appropriate to ask someone for their age, even if they’re dating their coworker.

Java Jive: Spencer and Emily take a break at the local coffee shop and she makes an understandable mistake about barista Reader and Spencer’s relationship.

Kitten Love: Spencer’s vet begrudgingly agrees to an emergency house call.

Maddening One, My Goddess: Spencer has a one night stand… on February 13th. The next day, he is confronted with a familiar face on his pre-planned double date.

Not Your Backup: Spencer and JJ argue about her jealousy of his girlfriend.

Quid Pro Quo: Spencer is entranced by the law student in his class.

Rib Cage: Spencer realizes Reader is the one, but it might be too late. He has to find her.

Serendipitous: Spencer’s pretty sure Penelope mixed up his blind date.

Stranger Danger: Reader is a single mother having a very bad day.

Style Theory: Fashion student Reader meets their favorite scholar and teaches him a lesson in self-love.

The Perfect Plan: Reader has a question for Spencer, but things don’t go according to plan.

The Prodigy Path: At a parent teacher conference, Spencer and Reader explain their seemingly unorthodox parenting style.

S.R. SFW Blurbs

At Ease: Spencer comes home to his partner and finds them still asleep.

Birthday Wish: Spencer is sad he can’t reach you on his birthday.

Favorite Person: Reader just needs a little extra reassurance sometimes.

S.R. NSFW Oneshots (18+, MINORS DNI)

Big Bad Wolf (Part 1, Part 2): Spencer is overwhelmed by the apparent innocence of an elementary school teacher he meets on a case.

Blush: Spencer finds something surprising in his girlfriend’s sock drawer after he’s released from prison.

Cupid & Psyche: Reader and Spencer get kidnapped by a rather romantic matchmaking unsub who demands they perform for him.

Devil in the Backseat: Reader is a little too much (and Spencer's into it).

Get Lucky: It’s 3AM and a pipe burst in Reader’s apartment. She is soaked, angry, and forgot her wallet and phone. Her neighbor Spencer tries his best to make the night not terrible.

I Like It Like That: Spencer is jealous after a rowdy party.

Kiss ’n Tell: Reader gets drunk on a night out with the girls and accidentally mimics her boyfriend’s habit of oversharing.

My Boss’s Daughter: Spencer’s fling with his boss’s daughter is definitely going to get him fired.

Relief in Regrets: Spencer turns to his ex-girlfriend in a time of need.

Rewrapped: Reader tries to be cheeky, but regrets it a little too late to do anything about it.

Rodeo Show: Spencer and Reader weren’t planning on having an audience that morning.

Schrödinger’s Relationship (Part 1, Part 2): Reader finds out Spencer has been dating a kind and cute woman (when he’s not spending the night at her house).

Study Session: Spencer really hates his student, but he can’t resist her.

Vienna: Spencer is a bona fide 40-year-old virgin. After a few months of dating Reader, he finally decides he wants to change that.

Yellow Light: Everyone thinks Reader is dangerous. Probably because she’s Cat’s sister. But is that why Spencer likes her?

Happy reading!

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #answer #answered

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tallseaweed · 18 days

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Buddy Request: are you a Loki obsessed high fantasy lover?

I would really like to connect with fellow Loki fans who want to rant about/analyze Loki and Thor's psychology, family dynamics, Asgardian society, Jotunheim, magic/seiðr, and the Nine Realms. Ideas/thoughts that aren't canon-compliant with the MCU are more than welcome!

Here are some fics with these types of themes that I have thoroughly enjoyed and been inspired by:

Ásgarðrian Galdr by Valerie_Vancollie

Bargaining by proantagonist ( @proantagonista ) [thank you SO MUCH for the rec @alwida10!]

Frostbite by Maiden_of_Asgard

Once More With Empathy by Kairyn ( @bfaymiller )

A Fairytale Beginning by the_lady_amphitrite ( @the-lady-amphitrite )

Let me set the scene:

For the past year and a half, I've been working on developing a longfic featuring a Thor 2011 Loki and an OC Sigyn. Honestly, I don't think that I'll get around to posting it anytime soon (there's still so much work to be done on it), but it's constantly on my mind. It's sort of a hybrid concept of the MCU, Norse Mythology, my own ideas, OCs, and magic systems. It has an epic scope with multiple arcs and characters from most of the Nine Realms. Do you like characters with wings? I got you covered. An imminent threat to the Nine Realms? Check. An in-depth analysis of Ásgarðr and Jǫtunheimr's history uncovered during Loki's identity crisis? A Jǫtunn OC? A Laufey that never wanted to lose their child? Check, check, and check.

I've found it hard to talk to people about all this because it involves a LOT of worldbuilding. Epic fantasy definitely isn't for everyone and this will not be a "light" read. Some non-fanfic stories that have inspired me along the way include the Roots of Chaos series by Samantha Shannon (The Priory of the Orange Tree and A Day of Fallen Night) and Lord of the Rings by J.R.R. Tolkien. So if you like those types of stories, you might like the ideas I come up with.

If you relate to anything I've said, I also want to mention that I would love to hear about your ideas as well! If you feel trapped inside your own head and feel hesitant to "info-dump" on people, I am the person for you. And hey, maybe we can inspire each other :) Fanfiction is not about gatekeeping, and I have been unabashedly inspired by so many different takes on Loki that I've read along the way.

Sending this out into the Tumblr void, hoping it finds the right people!

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aro-who-reads · 2 months

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Anthologies including aro stories

(that I have read recently)

I know most people probably aren't going to read an anthology because it has one aro story in it (well, I would. And have done so!) But here's a little list in case any of these interest anyone generally, or people have access to them and would like to check out the aro stories.

1. Everything Under the Moon (Ed. Michael Earp). Aro story is Seeing Colour by Jes Layton.

I've already talked about this one, I think it's my favourite on the list (the story itself and the anthology as a whole). The anthology is full of queer fairytale retellings, and Seeing Colour is about a young aro person getting to know an older single person.

2. An Unexpected Party (Ed. Seth Malacari). Aro story is The Graveyard Shift by Jes Layton.

I also enjoyed this one, it's an Australian queer YA spec fic anthology with a deliberate focus on less common queer rep (lots of trans, nonbinary rep) and emerging writers. Being aro isn't really a focus of the story but it does use the phrase "alloromantic bullshit". There was another story with an ace character who might have been meant to be aro as well?

3. This is Our Rainbow (Ed. Katherine Locke and Nicole Melleby). Aro story is Girl's Best Friend by Lisa Jenn Bigelow.

A queer middle grade anthology. While not explicitly an aroace story, it does explicitly talk about having a squish on someone, who the MC attempts to befriend by turning into a dog. (I also believe the author is aroace?)

4. Out There: Into the Queer New Yonder (Ed. Saundra Mitchell). Aro story is The Undeniable Price of Everything by Z Brewer.

YA queer futuristic anthology. Unfortunately I found the aro story in this one of the weaker stories in the anthology, as it was a bit confusing. I also just didn't like the anthology as much as a whole either, but that might just be because it was more romance focused and I wasn't as interested.

#aro #aromantic #aro books #It's still sort of aro week right...#I'm partway through a couple of actual novels I thought I might write about but I got distracted reading other stuff #Tbh I found all three of the all out/out now/put there anthologies disappointing #Especially in regard to representing a broad range of queer identities

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sensitively-taken · 8 months

Text

what's with your kisses? — park sunghoon

synopsis. Park Sunghoon has never had much time or even a slight care for dating, romance, love, or anything of that sort. so, when you kiss him at a rowdy party one night, as his first kiss ever, he’s surprised to find that he wants more. what he thought was going to be a one-time thing, he finds evolving into something he never wants to end—even if you two aren’t meant to be more than a summer fling.

pairing. park sunghoon x gender-neutral!reader ft. jake sim

genres. fluff, strangers to lovers au, summer (fling) au

warnings. underage drinking & all that implies! please let me know if i've missed any :)

word count. 10.7k (10737)

taglist. @soobin-chois @my5colors @kflixnet @jaeyunverse @heejojo @tbzloonar @odxrilove @aizzon

listen to! strangers, sigrid ⭑ i'll be down, talia goddess ⭑ lovestained, hope tala ⭑ yuck, charli xcx ⭑ feature me, flo ⭑ summer's over, tv girl ft. jordana ⭑ yellow cab, dpr live (click on the listen to for the spotify playlist, which i recommend listening to unshuffled)

notes. ermmm..... after more than a year and (almost) radio silence on this blog, here she is!! i'm rlly sorry ab how long it took for me to post this (esp when it was sitting in my drafts for a whole year..) 😭😭 but SHE'S HERE and that's all that matters!! since this was originally an entry for @/prettywon's soul symphonies collab, this song is based on yellow cab by dpr live, as you can probably tell by the title & playlist. i was rlly trying to reflect that boyish infatuation he's singing ab so if u cringe a bit i understand 😪 i did too tysm lola @ijhyo for beta reading this for me! (pls pardon me for tagging u a few hours late 🙏🏾) but enough rambling from me!! enjoy! ❤️

I – K is for Kiss

There was no such thing as the perfect first kiss.

Park Sunghoon, a nineteen-year-old boy who’d never been kissed, had accepted this fact long ago. A lucky few got to have their first kiss with their first love or a longtime crush, while a lot more people had embarrassing stories they’d share on drunken nights. He knew a first kiss wasn’t something out of a fairytale. But, he felt that, at the very least, he should have an adequate first kiss–preferably with someone he had some sort of feelings for.

So, he’d never predicted that he’d end up losing his lip virginity to a stranger at the summer party his best friend, Jake, was throwing.

Or that he’d like it. (Sunghoon wasn’t sure he could even admit that.)

He could admit this though: you were a good kisser. A very, very good kisser–at least, according to his standards. Even he–the nineteen-year-old who’d never even held hands with someone, let alone kissed someone–was able to realise you’d done this a dozen times before when you cupped his cheek–not aggressively, but softly, gently–whispered the question in his ear, and pulled him into a chaste, soft kiss as soon as he’d nodded awkwardly.

Then, moving your hand from his cheek to his neck and smirking slightly, you deepened the kiss.

That’s when he started wondering why he’d never done this before.

You didn’t move too fast, or too slow. It was almost like you knew exactly what he was thinking, what he was feeling, because the second it would start feeling a bit too much for him and his head would start swimming, you would pull back and rest your forehead against his. But, when he started missing the feel of your lips on his, your eyes would flicker to his, the question on the tip of your tongue, and lean in again.

He would never say it out loud, not to you or anyone else, but he was glad you’d taken the lead. Because with the way his hands were trembling to wrap themselves around your waist, and how he’d avoid your gaze every time you pulled back, he wasn’t so sure you two would’ve even been here if you’d left the initiating to him.

All of a sudden, you pulled back–the first time you didn’t do what he wanted–and Sunghoon chased your lips for a bit, cheeks reddening when he realised you weren’t leaning back in.

He stepped back, which was hard to do in a cramped shed but he managed and cleared his throat. Suddenly, he was very interested in inspecting the design of said shed. “Um… is something wrong? Did I, I don’t know, did I do something wrong?”

“No,” you smiled coyly and licked your lips (Sunghoon’s eyes may have flickered back up in time to catch the moment and linger on it), “the seven minutes are up.”

Oh. Right. That–a very silly round of seven minutes in heaven–was how he’d got here. Stuck in a shed. Kissing a complete, random stranger. Y’know, the daily, run-of-the-mill stuff for Sunghoon.

He nodded slowly, flicking away the few dark hairs that fell in front of his eyes. “Right, right. After you.”

“After you?” You laughed, a warm sound he found himself melting to (on the inside. On the outside, he was biting his lip so hard he could taste your chapstick on his tongue), “This whole time you haven’t done anything, but now you want to be a gentleman?”

His face reddened and he crossed his arms over his chest. “No one said gentlemen have to be good at kissing!”

“You do have a point, kind sir.” He rolled his eyes at your jab. “I’d just think it’d be much more gentlemanly of you to look me in the eyes, instead of, dunno, glaring at my lips.”

At this rate, Sunghoon was sure someone’s face couldn’t be as red as his was.

He made a point to look into your eyes for a good ten seconds, breath held, before looking at his flip flops and murmuring, “I wasn’t glaring… I think. Like, I’m not mad at your lips or anything.”

You laughed again, a deeper sound he was sure came from the depths of your heart, and with a small grin on his face, Sunghoon decided he liked the sound.

“I wasn’t saying you were mad.” You stepped closer to him and Sunghoon’s breath hitched. You reached out to him, and for a second Sunghoon thought you were going to cup his face and kiss him again–he wanted you to–but then you reached up and smoothed his eyebrows and the space between them. “Just relax these big boys a bit. They can get a day off glaring, don’t you think, cutie?”

You didn’t wait for a reply. Instead, you smiled and reached behind Sunghoon for the shed door, stepping out to hear a chorus of cheers from some other partygoers and leaving the boy dumbfounded and red.

It was only when Sunghoon moved to leave the shed that he realised he’d never caught your name.

II – I is for Infatuation

Sunghoon was not thinking about the kiss. Well. Kisses.

At least, that was what he toldhimself.

But, ever since he’d woken up at Jake’s place the morning after, with a head so heavy he wasn’t sure he could even lift it, it was the only thing on his mind.

First thing in the morning, when he couldn’t even remember what his name was, he thought about it. Late at night, hours past when he’d told himself he’d go to sleep, he thought about it. Even in his dreams, he couldn’t get the thought of you and your stupid lips out of his head. (Jake had called him obsessed, but he preferred to think of it as a little infatuation.)

He was sure he was going insane when he saw someone perusing the chapstick section in the grocery store and immediately thought of you, only for him to find out it was you when your hands landed on the same pack.

Sunghoon drew his hand back like he was stung, while you simply took the balm and murmured an apology without sparing him a glance.

He wasn’t sure whether to breathe a sigh of relief or disappointment. On one hand, it was you–the only person in the entire world who’d kissed Park Sunghoon on his very chapped, very dry lips (which was the reason he told himself he was in the lip balm section in the first place and not because he couldn’t get your lips out of his head). On the other hand, it was you–the only person in the entire world who’d kissed Park Sunghoon on his very chapped, very dry lips.

Sunghoon didn’t have much time to think about it though, because you suddenly looked back and raised your eyebrows at him.

He bit his lip in anticipation of what you were going to say, but he could’ve never imagined you’d say, “Nice jammies, cutie.”

Sunghoon was beginning to think you had a thing for embarrassing him, as his cheeks turned the shade of some of the chapsticks on display. He rubbed at the nape of his neck, murmuring, “Thanks, my grandma crocheted them for me.”

“Really?” Your eyes shone with actual interest, and Sunghoon’s blush spread across his cheeks. “Do you think you could send me her number or something? I’ve been trying to get the hang of crocheting recently, but it’s just not been working.”

“I would, totally, a hundred percent, but I don’t have your number yet, so…” He went silent, as he realised what he’d said and your eyebrows climbed further up your head.

Sunghoon wished the ground would open up. Pronto.

“Wow, cutie, I have to say, I’m kinda impressed.” You stretched out your hand, which made Sunghoon’s brows furrow, until you gestured for the phone in his pyjama pocket. “I never thought you’d be the type of gentleman to muster up the balls to ask for my number, but here we are.”

He groaned as he passed you his phone, a slight flush to his face. “Could we not rehash the whole gentleman bit? That was kinda embarrassing for me.”

“What?” You grinned, eyes flickering between his phone screen and him. “Do you mean the part where you didn’t know how to kiss back or the part where you stared at my lips the whole time after, cutie?”

If Sunghoon wasn’t sure before, he definitely was now. You had a thing for embarrassing him–and calling him cutie. He’d never admit it, but he was finding that he didn’t really seem to mind either.

He avoided your gaze and toyed with the hem of his sweater, the ghost of a smile on his lips. “Um, both?”

“’ Kay, got it.” You passed his phone back to him and watched him redden at what you’d saved yourself as.

“Couldn’t your name have sufficed? Why did you—” he groaned and buried his face behind his hands, his voice coming through as muffled— “Why did you have to save yourself as ‘seven minutes hottie?’ Isn’t that too conceited of you... and corny?”

You shrugged. “It’s not wrong, is it?”

Even though you couldn’t see his face redden, he figured you’d imagined it as you let out a small snort. “What? Are you gonna tell me I’m not hot?”

“... No,” came his reluctant reply, as he finally removed his hands from his face and went to change your contact name to your actual name, only to remember he’d never got it. “Ah, wait, what’s your name?”

“My name?” You hummed quietly, like you were considering something, and Sunghoon felt a certain type of anticipation grow in his stomach. “If I tell you my name, do I get a kiss, cutie?”

He scoffed, though he could still feel some blood rush to his cheeks. You were really something. “I thought you said I was a bad kisser.”

“Uh-uh,” you corrected, leaning in slowly, “I said you don’t know how to kiss. But, once you do, well… who knows?”

For the second time in a week, Sunghoon felt the distance between you two close and desperately wished you were going to kiss him. Yes, he was in a grocery store and yes, anyone could walk past at any moment, but when you leaned in so close to him–with your soft lips pursed and your eyes staring into his soul–he couldn’t help but fall victim to the pull you had on him. He was weak–so weak–to you.

But, just like before, you didn’t.

You simply brushed his bed hair out of his face and snorted a bit at his spaced-out expression, before stepping back into a space where Sunghoon could finally breathe and think of something else other than your lips on his.

“Yeah,” he murmured, so low that you had to lean back in to hear him.

Sunghoon had always thought of himself as a reasonable, patient person. He knew if he wanted quality things in his life, he’d have to get used to waiting often–at least, that’s what his parents had taught him. But, every time you came into his orbit, his usually thick line of patience wore thin with a simple glance or smile from you.

What were you doing to him?

“Sorry,” your tongue flicked back over your lips, “what was that?”

His line snapped.

“Yeah, you do get a kiss.”

And the words were gone before he could take them back. But, blood rushing in his ears and heart pounding out of his chest, Sunghoon found he didn’t want to take them back–even though, in the back of his mind, part of him was blushing and squirming at his wording.

“Oh?” you said, looking straight into his eyes–unwavering, for once. A certain tension filled the air, as you two stared at each other for a moment, the night of the party probably replaying in both your heads. Careful not to disturb the atmosphere between you two, you whispered, “_____. My name’s _____.”

The tension wasn’t cut, but simply deflated like a balloon as Sunghoon let out a long breath, cheeks painted a dark red, and asked, “But not here, right? I’m not saying we’re doing anything too scandalous, but my mum’s good friends with the manager here, so… Yeah. I kinda, um–maybe I, maybe I shouldn’t have said anything.”

There was a moment of silence, as you stared incredulously at the blushing boy, before you burst out into full-fledged laughter. You hugged your sides a bit and smiled so wide that any passerby would’ve thought Sunghoon was a comedic genius.

Before he could get the wrong idea, you cupped Sunghoon’s face and said, “You’re just too cute, cutie.”

And he smiled a little, slowly as his eyes traced your face, his brows finally relaxed.

You wiped an imaginary tear from your eye, sobering up, and asked, “So. Where's your car?”

III – S is for Scrapbook

You and Sunghoon had ended up kissing in his car.

When he’d told Jake about it later, he’d said you guys had made out–to embarrass Sunghoon, he assumed–but the kisses had been soft and chaste, where you’d been more focused on getting Sunghoon to reciprocate than just kissing him. He had, albeit slowly, and by the time he’d dropped you off at your house, he was able to proudly say that he had initiated a kiss between you two.

It had built his confidence incredibly, being able to say that he’d kissed you and not the other way around–not that he was saying it to anyone, besides Jake really–so much so that he’d texted you just a few minutes after he’d gotten home. He’d panicked then, wondering if you’d think it weird he’d texted you so quickly, but you’d responded just as fast that his nerves had calmed and he’d found himself laughing at your texts.

While talking to you face to face was something he didn’t think he’d ever get used to, texting you was something he could do with ease–well, somewhat.

In the late afternoons, when he woke up with messy bed hair and mucus still in his eyes, he’d check his phone to see if you’d sent anything–which you almost always had. Whether it was a quick picture of something you'd seen on a walk, your poor attempts at making breakfast, or even just a morning selfie.

On some days, he’d feel too flustered and musty to send anything in return–Like, what if you realised he was wearing the same shirt he’d sent a picture in yesterday?—and on others, he had to shut off his phone to take deep breaths after sending something as simple as him brushing his teeth.

Okay, so he was still struggling to talk to you, but at least he didn’t stutter over text and go red every few seconds.

With his awkwardness out of the way, he could actually learn things about you. Like your favourite colour, your favourite spots in town, and your hobbies. He even learned you liked to scrapbook and every summer, you’d make a scrapbook of all your highlights. Polaroids, film stills, movie tickets, coupons, and more would go into the scrapbook and at the end of summer, you’d post little snippets on it on your Instagram page. He’d told you it was cute and jokingly asked if he’d be featured in this summer’s scrapbook, to which you’d responded with ‘we’d have to go out for u to be included wouldnt we?’

Which is what led to this moment. He had thought you were joking about the whole going out thing because it’d been late at night and you two had just been talking about the trips you’d been going on with your families in the next couple of days, but then the next morning–that morning–you’d sent two tickets to a film showing that evening–this evening. Right now–and a short, little ‘wanna go see this? my scrapbook’s feeling a little hoon-less rn :(’.

Evidently, he hadn’t said no, because he was now parked outside your house, trying to calm himself down as he waited for you to come out.

His hands were sweating a bit, and he kept checking his reflection in his rearview mirror, anxiously biting his lower lip and running a hand through his hair. Surprisingly, it wasn’t even the fact that he was going to see you that was stressing him out, it was more the fact that he didn’t know what this was. Were you guys just going out to see a late-night movie as friends? Was it a date? Should he have shown up with flowers or a gift? Were you guys just friends? Were you something more? Did you always ask your friends to see movies late at night so impromptu? Did he even see you as more than a friend?

All the questions made his head swim and his palms sweat, but he couldn’t stop thinking about them. He hadn’t been thinking of this the few weeks you guys had been texting, but now he felt like a broken record, gaze bouncing between his reflection and your house.

And then all his thoughts slowed to a stop.

You walked out of your house with a slight smile and a twinkle in your eye, and his brain turned to mush. You looked… good. That was all he was capable of thinking, as you walked the short distance to his car, waving, and slid into the passenger seat.

Sunghoon stared at you for a second, as you put on your seatbelt and said hi, his mind completely blank. Then, your touch on his shoulder and a furrow between your brows brought him back to the present and he spat out a jumbled mess of, “Good, yeah, yeah. I’m good, you’re good, so good.”

It was your turn to stare, confusion clear in your eyes, and panic rose within him.

“Wait, I mean you look good!” he said, gesturing at you, “I mean, not that you don’t look good all the time, but, like, you look really good right now. Like, wow, I–I should stop talking.”

You blinked at him for a second and then laughed that same laugh that melted his insides. He noticed, as you threw your head back slightly, that you hadn’t removed your hand from his shoulder, and Sunghoon found himself relishing your touch.

“Stop it, cutie, you’re gonna make me blush,” you said playfully, rolling your eyes and hitting his chest lightly. You sobered up slightly, but the smile was still wide on your face as you said, “You look good, too. Very suave, very cool. I can’t lie though, I miss the bedhead and your grandma’s sweater a bit.”

With your easy words lightening the mood, he found himself relaxing a bit–enough to pull away from the curb and start driving. “Really? Maybe I’ll wear it next time.”

You didn’t blink at his mention of a next time, though Sunghoon searched your face for any sign of discomfort or surprise. Instead, your smile grew slightly and you asked, “What type of date are you thinking? Like, an early morning IHOP or Waffle House thing? Or, more of an early-morning pancake date at home?”

If it weren’t for the fact that he’d stopped at a red light, Sunghoon was sure he would’ve crashed his car right at that moment. He gulped loudly and spared your expectant eyes a glance, as he could feel his blood rush in his ears and hear his heart pound out of his chest.

The light turned green and he cleared his throat. “Uh, so, does that mean this is a date?”

He was glad he couldn’t see your reaction to his question–you probably thought he was silly–but was also nervous because you went quiet for a bit. Sunghoon considered turning on the radio and moving on from the topic, if that could dispel the momentary awkwardness between you two, but he wanted to hear your answer.

You laughed slightly, but he could hear the nervous undertones. “Do you not want it to be one? I’m sorry, I just assumed because, well, we kissed at the party and we’ve been talking and stuff since then, so… I thought you were more of a dating type of guy, but–”

“Wait, what?” he interrupted, a crease in his forehead as he spared you a glance. Something within him shattered at the sight of the uncertainty on your face. Had he done that? “What other type of guy would I be?”

“Well, you know…” You paused, shifting slightly in your seat. “There are some guys that just wanna have fun. Mess around, you know? I didn’t think you were one of those guys, but if that’s what you wanna do, then–”

“No,” he said fiercely, only realising how angry he sounded when you glanced at him in surprise. “I want to date you. I really do. I just… I thought you didn’t and I didn’t know if we were just friends, and I’ve never done this before so, I just–”

“You’ve never done this before?” you cut him off, visible shock in your eyes. “There’s no way, Hoon. You’re joking, right?”

And with that, the awkwardness dissipated, as his cheeks flamed and he avoided your wide eyes.

“I know, it’s weird–”

“No, no!” You smiled a bit at his flustered state. “It’s not weird. I’ve only dated once before and, even then, it wasn’t that serious, so we’re kind of in the same boat.”

It was his turn to glance at you with incredulous eyes. “Wait, really? I thought you had so much dating experience cause, like, you’re such a good kisser and you’re so confident and forward, y’know?”

You shrugged. “Like I said, some guys just wanna mess around. Sometimes, I do too.”

“And that’s not what you want with me, right? You actually want to date, right?” You’d already told him you considered this a date, and he’d already told you he wanted to date you–which you hadn’t objected to–but he just had to make sure that was real, and his mind hadn’t made that up.

“Yeah, Hoon,” you started softly, a shy smile on your lips–something he thought he’d never see on you. “I actually want to date you.”

Immediately, his eyes flickered back to the road and his cheeks flushed, a wide grin slowly stretching on his lips. You laughed at his smile, loud and warm, and he closed his eyes in bliss and only opened them again to smile at you.

“So, this is a date? For sure?” he asked, one hand on the wheel and the other on the console as he flickered through the channels for a song.

“Mhm,” you hummed, your hand brushing his as you turned up the volume on a specific channel, smiling at the way his flush deepened. You held his hand, intertwining your fingers with his, and nodded. “This is a date.”

Sunghoon couldn’t even remember why he’d been so nervous, and why his palms–one of which was currently touching yours–had been so sweaty, as he gazed into your eyes and leaned in for a chaste kiss. He smiled into it and rolled his eyes to himself, all of his questions answered. Especially the one he’d been too worried to even ask himself.

If he’d had any doubt about it before, he was sure of it now.

He liked you. Maybe even too much for a summer fling.

IV – S is for Sorry

Over the next few days, Sunghoon found himself wishing you guys were more than just a summer fling.

It was wistful thinking, he knew that already. Just a few months prior, you guys hadn’t even been aware of the other's existence. Now, to him, it felt like you took up every inch of his thoughts, dreams, and being. And, in just a couple of weeks, you’d be off to your respective universities, leaving the short fling between you just that–a short, summer fling.

You two were avoiding talking about it, despite the palpable tension it added to your conversations when you brought up the future. You would mention how you were going to look into photography courses at your uni on a video call and Sunghoon would smile outwardly, while inwardly he’d wonder if you’d find someone else to call your muse–as he’d gotten used to you calling him.

He would mention how he was going to do a double major since he wasn’t completely sure what he wanted to do, and he’d notice the way you’d bite your lip like you were stopping yourself from asking him where. And, just now, moments ago on your video call, you had mentioned how you wanted to go on another date with him after you both got back from your hometowns, but before… (well, you hadn’t continued but he knew you meant before you two had to part.)

He knew you two were only prolonging your pain, and he was only wounding himself deeper by thinking so wistfully, but you two were happy at this exact moment. And, it wasn’t enough, but he’d make it be enough if that was what you two needed.

At least, that’s what he’d been thinking till his sister barged into his childhood room and said his grandma wanted to see him.

Now, legs tucked under himself and head lowered, Sunghoon sat opposite her, with a long table between them, and a tense silence filled the room.

He wasn’t sure what his grandma “seeing him” meant. She wasn’t very old, just in her early sixties, but she was a calm, wise woman who’d lived to see and experience a lot, so she may as well have had the wisdom of someone a century old. If she wanted to “see him,” that most likely meant she had a piece of advice for him that he wouldn’t like.

For once, he was right.

“So, your mum told me you’ve been seeing someone?”

Sunghoon coughed abruptly, patting his chest as a deep flush flooded his cheeks. “I’m sorry?”

“Sorry?” Sunghoon’s grandma scoffed and eyed him slowly. “What are you sorry for? Not calling to consult me first? Or, for trying to hide it from me? Or, is there something else, hm?”

He raised his eyes to meet his grandma’s eyes, but immediately lowered them at the fierce scowl on her face. He bowed deeply, palms flat before him. “I’m sorry, Grandma.”

She eyed his form for a second, before scoffing again and gesturing toward him. “Sit, sit. I didn’t call you here to hear you apologise all day.”

Sunghoon sat again and raised his head but still didn’t look his grandma in the eye. His mind was too preoccupied with wondering how his mum had figured it out, considering you guys had gone on your first date just a couple of days ago.

He jolted a bit when his grandma asked, “You’re not going to ask me why I called you?”

“Sorry,” he began and cleared his throat at his grandma’s glare. “Why did you call me, Grandma?”

She continued eyeing him with the same, wary gaze she’d been eyeing him with since he’d entered her room for a few moments, before she suddenly became sombre. Without the glint in her eyes, Sunghoon could see how deep the pools in her eyes were and the lines surrounding them. He released a breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding.

“Well, what’s your plan? Hm?” Her eyes bore deep into his like her question was just a formality and she already knew the answer. Sunghoon wouldn’t be surprised if she already did. “Are you two going to be a campus couple?”

He knew her question was mostly rhetorical, but he couldn’t help but imagine it. Walking you to and from lectures; studying together in a library or a cosy coffee shop; going to endless parties with you; proofreading each other’s papers; you wearing his clothes in his dorm. Sunghoon felt himself grow warm.

Then, even warmer as his grandma cleared her throat and raised a knowing brow in his direction. She didn’t have to say anything for him to realise she was expecting an answer.

“I…” He faltered for a moment, remembering the hesitancy in your eyes every time a hint of the topic was brought up. “I don’t know, Grandma. I… well, there’s nothing I can really do, I guess. We’re probably not even going to the same universities, so I don’t know what the plan is.”

“Have you guys talked about it?”

A pause settled between the two of them, as Sunghoon lowered his eyes again and prepared himself to bow again.

His grandma scoffed, the loudest of all her scoffs so far, and sighed exasperatedly. “You two haven’t even discussed anything? And you’re here talking like you’re some handsome lead in a drama and _____’s life will be in danger if you two continue dating?”

“Ah, Grandma, are you saying I’m not hands–Wait, wait? How do you know _____’s name?”

She paused slightly and carefully schooled her features. “Is that important right now?”

“I mean,” Sunghoon’s brows furrowed, then he remembered your touch against them and he relaxed them a bit, “considering that I’ve never told Mum _____’s name or even the fact that we’ve been on one date, yes? Kinda?”

“I’m your grandma, am I not?” was her only response, with the ghost of a smile on her lips. He grimaced slightly, but his grandma continued without any regard for his reaction. “I know you guys are kids, but you didn’t even think of discussing anything? You were just going to kiss and say ‘bye bye’ and continue with your lives?”

“I mean,” Sunghoon started, trying to fight the blush climbing up his body. There wasn’t any point, though, because the apples of his cheeks were already shining. “_____’s not even my partner or anything, so it isn’t my place…”

“But isn’t that the end goal?”

His grandma stared at him, but he couldn’t hold the weight of her stare. Because deep down inside, Sunghoon knew she was right. And he knew he wanted nothing more than to be able to be called yours.

To see more pictures of the scenery from your morning walks and even join you on them too. To cuddle up in bed and watch some of your favourite animes together, only pausing to snuggle further into the blanket. To finally go on that early morning date at a Waffle House, eating your orders in his car where his passenger seat would be perfectly adjusted to seat you. To have a home, a space, with you.

But, he thought. There was always a ‘but’.

Before, that ‘but’ had been that he wasn’t even sure if that was what you wanted as well, if he even really wanted it. Now, that ‘but’ was the inevitable space and distance that would grow between you two. The space that would grow so large that you two wouldn’t be able to have any space for each other.

Sunghoon’s stomach sank as his thoughts spiralled, but he summed them up to his grandma with a simple shrug.

“Why are you, why are you so dramatic?” she asked, rolling her eyes at her grandson’s face. A fierce scowl was back on her face and, if it weren’t for the table between the two of them, she looked like she was about ready to pull on Sunghoon’s ear. “Why are you sitting here in my house moping and frowning like everything’s decided? Who knows? Maybe _____ is willing to make it work, to even travel to another city just to see you and your dramatic self. But how would you know when you’re busy here moping?”

He’d considered it. Judging from the talks you’d had and the sheer amount of hours you talked every day, Sunghoon was sure that you liked him as well (not as much as he did, he was sure–that wasn’t even remotely possible when he could barely get you off his mind–but enough to deal with his “dramatic self,” as his grandma had put it). But, there it was again, he just couldn’t get rid of that ‘but.’ It was festering in the back of his mind whenever he even thought of bringing it up to you.

“Sunghoon.” There was a note of finality in his grandma’s voice as she said his name. “Discuss things with _____ first. I understand sometimes we experience heartbreak, but I won’t let you break your own heart over foolishness.”

“But Grandma–”

“No ‘buts.’” His grandma folded her arms in her lap and glanced at the door of her room. “No more ‘buts’, Sunghoon.”

Despite the lingering worry settled in his system, he sighed and stood up slowly. Sunghoon bowed deeply, glanced at his hands, and left his grandma’s room with her words in mind.

V – E is for End

Sunghoon wasn’t too sure he’d be able to follow his grandma’s instructions.

He was back now from his hometown, back in the comfort of his familiar Seoul bedroom, but you weren’t here. He’d known you two wouldn’t get back at the same time, yet that didn’t stop him from feeling slightly lonely without you to go on dates with. It was a numbing feeling, that left him feeling empty if he dwelled on it too long, and he worried he’d go completely numb if you two truly didn’t end up working out.

The thought sent a chill down his spine every time Sunghoon’s mind strayed to it and Jake’s feeble comforts did little to quell his worries.

To make matters worse, you unexpectedly postponed your return date and said you couldn’t go to a pool party Jake was throwing anymore. You were very vague about the reason why when he asked and Sunghoon began worrying once again. He even brought up not going to the party to Jake, but his best friend wouldn’t have it and threatened to drag him to the party himself.

So, there he was. Standing at the edge of a crowd of strangers, nursing his second beer of the night, and completely alone. Well, he wasn’t completely alone. Jake and some of Sunghoon’s other friends had passed by him and invited him to the dance floor, but he couldn’t get himself to get out there and dance with someone who wasn’t you. The most they’d been able to get him to do was drink a little, even if the drinks only fuelled his moping.

A couple of people sent him inviting looks and winks, dancing in a way that made him avert his eyes immediately, but he didn’t budge an inch from where he was standing. Maybe if you were here, he would. No, definitely, if you were here he would. His mind wandered to grasp at the edges of the first night you’d met, trying to remember if you’d been dancing that night, but he couldn’t pull up a single image of you dancing.

If you were here, how would you dance? Would you dance with a lot of energy, completely letting yourself loose? Or, would you take your time to flow with the music, swinging your hips and smiling at him in that way that just drove him crazy?

Sunghoon smiled a bit at the thought and felt his hips move along to the beat, frowning once he realised what he was doing.

He missed you.

Just a few months ago, he hadn’t known he could miss someone the way he was missing you, but he was and he couldn’t do anything about it.

As if his best friend could read his thoughts, Jake danced off the dance floor to Sunghoon’s side, running a hand through his unruly, blond hair. Sunghoon could smell the booze coming off him, and he watched as his friend nearly lost his footing trying to lean on Sunghoon. Jake barely noticed, though, as he just kept smiling up at Sunghoon. Sunghoon made a point to look anywhere, except in the blond’s direction.

After a while of just trying to ignore his drunk friend, Sunghoon eventually rolled his eyes and raised an eyebrow in Jake’s direction. “What?”

“I can’t, I can’t just look at you now?” Jake asked, his wide smile never leaving his face.

“No, it’s not that. It’s the way you’re looking at me.”

“How am I looking at you?” His friend leaned in close, stretching an arm around Sunghoon’s shoulders. “Hm? I’m just looking at you with my normal eyeballs, my very normal eyeballs, actually just like you, you too.”

“You’re looking at me like, I don’t fucking know, you’re hiding some type of secret from me,” Sunghoon said, pushing Jake off his frame. “And I don’t like that look because the last time you looked at me like that I ended up kissing _____ in a shed for seven minutes.”

Jake’s wide smile grew into a slight, smug smirk. “And look how well that turned out for you. Someone’s not so bitchless anymore.”

Sunghoon rolled his eyes and took a swig of his drink but couldn’t hide the dusting of pink on his cheeks. (If he were to consider things between the two of you, you would be the one who wasn’t so bitchless anymore, considering he was more of your bitch than you were his with the way he was nursing a beer in the corner of a party like a loser just because he missed you. He didn’t need to tell Jake all that though.)

Instead, he feigned an annoyed scowl and crossed his arms over his chest. “What do you want, Jake?”

“I thought you would never ever ever ask.” His friend grinned. “Can you please get out the other floaties from the shed? Some people ripped these and, well, turns out not everyone at a pool party can actually swim. A bit crazy, I know.”

“Why can’t you? The shed was closer to where you were standing.”

“Um…” his friend trailed off, shaking his head incredulously, “I’m obviously inebriated, you know! Everything weighs a shitton of bricks right now.”

Sunghoon’s feigned scowl deepened into a real one, as he rolled his eyes and put his beer down on the ground. It was getting warm anyway and the alcohol wasn’t doing much for him, except make him miss you more. He shot Jake a look, before shouldering past him and making his way towards Jake’s shed.

It was surprisingly chilly for a summer night out, chilly enough at least that Sunghoon could feel some of the hairs on his arms raise as he stalked towards the shed. But, he welcomed the chill because his alternative was thinking about what had happened the last time he’d walked towards this shed. And once he started thinking about that, he’d start missing the feel of your lips on his, your arms around his neck, your eyes staring into his.

He cursed under his breath at his thoughts, wondering if, for even one second, he could think of something other than you.

Sunghoon immediately answered his question with a ‘no’ when he walked into the shed and he thought he smelled your signature fragrance. He would’ve recognised it anywhere (not because he was obsessed like Jake had once said, but because you’d borrowed his sweater on your date and your scent still lingered even after he’d washed it), so he was sure he wasn’t picking up someone else’s perfume or cologne, but he wouldn’t rule out him imagining your fragrance there as a result of him missing you so much.

So, he ignored the smell filling the shed and clambered around for the light switch. He’d been so sure it was by the wall, but he must’ve been more buzzed than he realised because his fingers kept grazing the air. By the time he finally felt the grooves of the light switch under his fingers and was going to turn it on, Sunghoon was so ready to grab the floaties Jake had asked for and get back to the party, or maybe even go home because–

Sunghoon froze.

He couldn’t think, speak, or do anything as the lights flickered on to reveal… well, you.

Sunghoon was going crazy.

He was so sure you were a figment of his imagination, brought about by how much he missed you, and he immediately frowned at the thought. Missing you was fine, maybe overkill when he thought about how often he thought about you, but creating images of you? That was a bit too much, even for him.

Despite his thoughts, though, Sunghoon couldn’t shake the nagging hope that maybe this was real. It didn’t help that “you”—or you–were smiling at him in a way that made his stomach flip, especially after being away from you for so long.

He felt ridiculous for even bothering, like when a horror film character asks who’s there after hearing a noise in the dark, but he cleared his throat slowly and whispered, “_____?”

You giggled softly and raised your eyebrows at what Sunghoon was sure was an incredulous look on his face. “Yes, Hoon?”

“Oh, my God,” Sunghoon started, feet still locked in place, “Oh, my God.”

You took a step closer to him and your grin only grew wider as he blinked slowly at you. Another step and he gulped slowly. Yet another and his eyes grew wide.

He put a hand up before you could take another step and close the distance between you two. “Wait, wait, wait!”

A small frown lit up your face, but you stayed where you were and slightly cocked your head.

“You’re real?” Sunghoon felt stupid asking, but he still had to check.

The feeling only doubled when your brows furrowed and you asked, “Am I real? … Hoon, is everything okay?”

He felt so warm at the familiar nickname that he could almost ignore the rest of what you said, but the growing concern on your face made him clarify himself.

“I just, I’ve had a bit to drink so I thought that my brain tricked me into thinking you were there.” Sunghoon paused at the bemusement on your face and he suddenly felt a whole lot warmer, despite the chilly air. “Actually, um, now that I say it out loud I do realise how ridiculous it sounds. Sorry.”

“Well,” you smiled at him with a sly glint in your eye, finally closing the gap between you two so your breath was fanning out on his face, “if you want to check, you always can.”

Sunghoon, being the guy he was, immediately thought of how he’d pinch himself in a shocking situation and went to do just that. It was only when you laughed at his actions, an incredulous look in your eyes, that he realised what you’d meant and blushed.

“Oh, I, I–”

“Hoon?” you asked, cutting him off and waiting until he nodded, “You’re so cute sometimes, y’know?”

“Just sometimes?” Sunghoon recovered quickly, sliding his arms around your waist and grinning slightly. He’d missed this too much. “So, what am I the other times?”

“Oh?” You raised an eyebrow. “Someone’s gotten a little bolder, hasn’t he?”

“I’d say it’s your influence. You were bound to rub off on me after sticking around me so much.”

He grinned at the way your brows shot up.

“Sticking around you? Hoon, who was the one that–”

“_____?” It was Sunghoon’s turn to cut you off and his grin grew so wide at the realisation on your face. It felt good to finally flip the tables. “You talk so much sometimes, y’know?”

You rolled your eyes, but there was a slight tug on your lips. “Wow, you’re so original. What, first you’re gonna steal my line, next you’re gonna pull some cheesy rom-com line on me and kiss me?”

“So you’re telling me you wouldn’t like it?” he asked, as one of his hands slowly travelled up your side and settled on cupping your jaw. He didn’t miss the way you sagged into his touch. Sunghoon was going to explode.

The tug on your lips grew into a full grin and you wrapped your hands around his neck. “Now, who said anything about that? C’mere, Hoon.”

He didn’t need to hear it twice. Sunghoon tilted your jaw towards him and leaned in for a soft kiss. It wasn’t intense or desperate, unlike what he’d imagined it be like after being away from you for so long, but he preferred it this way. He could savour the taste of your familiar lip balm against his lips and take his time pecking small, chaste kisses on and around your lips.

He sighed out loud and felt his cheeks flush when you pulled back to laugh. “You really missed me, huh?”

Sunghoon wasn’t sure if it was because of the little alcohol in his system or how much he’d missed you, but he gazed into your eyes and whispered, “I did. I really did.”

And, just like that, the tension was back. The obvious hesitancy. The ‘buts.’ He could feel your hold on his neck loosen slightly and he wanted nothing more than to take his words back and rewind to before he fell too deep, but it was too late. All that was left was for him to either avoid everything or finally face it, despite the worries that built up in his mind.

“_____,” he started gently, like you would run away at any second (but he knew you too well to know that you wouldn’t–he would), “we… we should talk.”

“About what?” you tried, a burst of nervous laughter escaping your lips.

You were avoiding his serious gaze, choosing instead to focus on where your hands met his neck. Sunghoon couldn’t tell much of what you were thinking, but, knowing you, he knew you were only postponing the conversation. Maybe it was because this was supposed to be a fun night for you two–after all, you’d probably sacrificed some more nights with your family to get here. Or, maybe it was because you weren’t ready to discuss it. Either way, it was as much your decision as his.

Sunghoon lowered his hands to your lower back and squeezed lightly. “I mean, we don’t have to if you don’t want to… It’d just be a good idea because soon everyone’s gonna start leaving for uni and well, we don’t even know what’s gonna happen between us then, and it’d probably be best if–”

“Hoon.” You were looking into his eyes now, your brows drawn together. “You’re shaking.”

His eyes grew wide and left your face to glance at his fingers, which were trembling around your waist. He tried laughing, shaking the nerves off, but the sound came out choked and he winced. Without a word, he gestured towards the floor of the shed and slumped against the back wall. You followed shortly after, sitting with your knees bunched up to your chest, one of your shoulders brushing against his. At your touch, Sunghoon wanted to reach out and squeeze one of your hands, but they were balled up on top of your knees, a hard look on your face. He sighed.

“You’re right, Hoon,” you started, staring ahead through the open shed door. The party was still going on outside, the music and noise muted from where you two were, but it might’ve as well not been with the way you two were wrapped up in your own bubble. A tense bubble. “We should talk… about us.”

He nodded, crossing his legs and laying his trembling hands in his lap.

Despite what you said, a short lapse of silence settled between you two and, for a moment, Sunghoon was worried this wasn’t going to go anywhere and he’d made a mistake.

But then you swivelled your head towards him and whispered, “What do you want us to be?”

What does he want you two to be? He’d thought about that question one too many times. It’d only ever hurt, thinking of so many domestic scenes and possibilities with you two when he wasn’t even sure if there could be a ‘you two.’

“What do I want us to be?” he repeated, gazing out the shed. “I want us to be together. I want… I want to keep waking up to your pictures on my phone and to go on spontaneous, little dates with you and finally go for that Waffle House date and… just be with you. I want you.”

With his last words, he slowly looked at you and already found you looking at him. There was a little smile tugging at your lips, that was both sad and happy at the same time, and you just nodded slowly.

As his gaze lingered, you cleared your throat and averted your eyes. “I want that too. Really, I do. You don’t understand how many times I’ve wondered what it’d be like if, I don’t know, we’d met a little earlier. If we could’ve gotten to know each other during high school.

“You know Jake told me you were your school’s drama club star?” You smiled slightly and Sunghoon felt a small smile pull at his lips as well. “I would’ve loved to be in the crowds, cheering you on. Or, even maybe get up on stage with you. Jake told me your school never did Romeo and Juliet, but you’d make a pretty good Juliet, don’t you think?”

Sunghoon chuckled and you did too, your shoulders brushing against each other’s for a moment, till your laughter ebbed away. You stared straight ahead again, frowning.

“And then I wondered why I kept thinking of the past. I mean, it’d just make more sense for me to hope that we could stay together, you know? But instead, I keep wishing we’d known each other longer.” You smiled again, that smile from before, but Sunghoon was sure it was only sad this time. “And I realised that I, I felt like we were running out of time. That, I don’t know, when summer ends, we end. Like the changing of weather is some type of timer.”

You whispered the last part more to yourself, but Sunghoon heard it and the self-loathing in it. You loathed yourself for the way you’d been thinking. Sunghoon couldn’t help but relate.

Crossing your arms over your chest, you looked at Sunghoon, a flicker of uncertainty in your eyes. “Do you ever feel like that? Like this is all the time we’ll ever have? Like even thinking of a future where we’re together is… I don’t know, like, wrong?”

That familiar hurt Sunghoon felt or anticipated, whenever he thought of the two of you together on campus came to mind and he nodded slowly. The ‘buts were popping up in his mind again, filling him with growing dread and he was starting to regret his decision. Maybe he shouldn’t have said anything, shouldn’t have brought it up, and let you guys live in oblivious bliss for a little longer. But, deep down, he knew that wouldn’t be true bliss. Like his grandma had said, you would only end up hurting yourselves because of your foolishness.

“But that’s not true, is it?” he started, glancing down at his hands which had started trembling again, “I don’t even know, like, what even made us think we only have the summer? Just because we met in summer? When you think of it like that, you feel ridiculous don’t you? We could literally be going to the same uni and we’re here, too anxious to even tell each other where we’re going.”

You snorted, glancing at Sunghoon out of the corner of your eye. “You’re right.” Straightening, you turned your whole body to face him. “You know considering we’re going in a few weeks, we’ve probably put more effort into not mentioning uni in our conversations because it should’ve popped up in our conversations, at least, once before.”

“Exactly. We should just tell each other. Now. Before we, we lose our nerve or something.”

You nodded and bit your lip, while Sunghoon closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He felt your hand brush against his, so he opened his eyes and took your hands in his. Your hands were, surprisingly, clammy. He was going to say something about it, but, glancing at your face, he spotted the way your eyes were darting all around the room.

Instead of commenting on it, Sunghoon took another deep breath. “Ready?”

You nodded once. “Ready.”

A short silence ensued between the two of you, as neither of you said anything or even made a move to say anything. Your eyes finally landed on his and a nervous smile tugged at the edge of your lips. You were nervous, Sunghoon realised belatedly and squeezed your hand instinctively.

“On three?” he offered.

“On three.”

“One, two, three–University of Seoul.”

“Kyunghee University–wait, what the fuck?”

Sunghoon furrowed his brows at the shocked look on your face and your exclamation. He couldn’t even focus on the name of the university you’d said. All the anxieties that’d been bothering him were beginning to boil up and over at the simple lack of happiness on your face. He was almost sure he was the one with the clammy hands now and he moved to remove his hand from yours when you gripped his tightly and began to smile lightly.

“What the fuck,” you repeated, still as shocked, but with the beginnings of a grin on your face.

Sunghoon only looked at you with his brows still furrowed. He frowned slightly when you began laughing. “I’m confused.”

“I can’t believe I was so stressed about this,” you muttered, mostly to yourself, but still smiling directly at him. “Hoon, we’re so dumb. So fucking dumb.”

“I agree… I think? But, why, I–”

“What neighbourhood is the University of Seoul in?”

“_____, what? I–”

You placed a finger on his lips and shook your head. “Don’t overthink it. Just answer my question.”

He glanced between your finger on his lips and your face. “Dongdaemun-gu.”

“Dongdaemun-gu,” you repeated, your small smile growing into a full one now, “Guess where Kyunghee is?”

“Uh.” He looked away from your face, trying to picture a map of Seoul in his head, but he drew short (he’d always been bad at geography anyway). “Myeongnyun? Daehakno?”

He didn’t think it was possible, but your smile grew even wider. “Not even close. It’s in Hoegi-Dong.”

Sunghoon nodded slowly, while you just looked at him with an expectant look on your face. He shook his head sheepishly and you just rolled your eyes.

“Hoon, they’re like five minutes away from each other.” You paused to let it sink in and laughed as Sunghoon’s brows finally relaxed and his eyes widened. “This is fucking stupid. We’re so fucking stupid.”

Sunghoon could only blink dumbly at you, while you just laughed at his dumbfounded shock. Immediately, his grandma’s words returned to him and a huge sense of embarrassment washed over him as he realised he’d proven her right. But, glancing between your intertwined hands and your wide smile, he found that he didn’t mind the embarrassment if it meant he still had a space with you.

(He’d do nearly anything to have that with you, he realised.)

You broke him out of his stupor by wrapping your arms around his neck and whispering, “So, Hoon, how do you feel now knowing that we’ll be, like, five minutes away from each other?”

“Want me to be honest?” he asked, placing his hands back on your waist (where they just seemed to fit perfectly, he noticed) and grinning softly when you nodded. “I feel really fucking embarrassed. Like, for weeks I’ve just been thinking of how much I’d miss you and wondering if I should even ask you out since we might not even see each other ever again. And, in the back of my head, I knew it was dumb because, if we wanted to make it work, we could make it work for sure. But, it was hard to remember that and–”

“Hoon, hoon,” you interrupted, giggling slightly and tightening your grip on his neck, “now, you’re the one talking too much.”

Sunghoon paused, taking a second to process what was going on. You were in front of him, hands wrapped around his neck, and smiling widely like he made you the happiest person in the world. He was in front of you, hands wrapped around your waist, and still trying to wrap his head around the fact that you two would be five minutes away from each other nearly every day–the closest to a campus couple he could ever ask for. He didn’t believe in fate (the same way he hadn’t believed in perfect first kisses, but he’d seen just how well that’d worked out for him), but the more he thought about it, the more he was sure that something more than luck had landed you two in this situation.

He sighed out loud and rested his head against yours. ”God, I feel like I aged twenty years worrying about all of this. It feels a bit silly now, doesn’t it?”

“A bit is an understatement, don’t you think?” you replied, settling yourself in his lap. He froze a bit, and you moved to get up, but he shook his head and brought you closer. You smiled. “Besides, you’d probably still look good as a thirty-nine-year-old.”

“Oh, gross.” He scrunched up his nose as he moved closer to you, his hands running up and down your sides. “I don’t even want to imagine myself over thirty yet.”

“Really?” you raised a brow, arms locking around his neck and eyes flickering to his lips. “You’d be a hot DILF though.”

He snorted. “God, shut up.”

Your smile widened, a knowing glint in your eye. “Don’t make me say the cheesy rom-com line, Hoon.”

“Alright, alright,” he murmured, lips a breadth away from yours, before he kissed you.

Now, this was the desperate, intense kiss he’d been imagining earlier. He wasn’t sure if it was because of the anticipation you’d both been harbouring before or the elation at what you’d just found out, but you both pulled out the works with teeth, tongue–everything. Sunghoon couldn’t begin to describe how he felt, what you were making him feel, but all he knew was he didn’t want it to end.

And when you kissed him on his cheek, tugged on his hand, and pulled him out into the chaos of the party, smiling at him all the while like he was the only guy in the world, he knew it never would.

Epilogue – S is for Summer Fling

You two had decided on the early-morning pancake at-home date.

Evidently so, as you were in nothing but a hoodie of his and his old gym shorts (a fact that Sunghoon had known since yesterday, when you’d slept over at his after Jake’s party, but he was still struggling to grasp), he was in another one of his hoodies and sweatpants, and you were both still rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. The rich smell of butter wafted all around Sunghoon’s kitchen, accompanied by the sizzling sound of him pouring pancake batter on the greasy pan. Besides the sizzles, and the occasional yawn from you, it was a completely silent morning, as Sunghoon concentrated all his efforts into impressing you with his cooking skills.

“So does this mean you’re my boyfriend now?” you asked, breaking the silence and Sunghoon’s focus.

He blinked, glad he was facing the stove and not where you sitting behind the kitchen island, and found that he couldn’t stop blinking. Was he your boyfriend? It was like you read his mind because that’s all he’d been thinking of since the moment he woke up with you in his arms. He’d fallen asleep on many hot summer nights, but he’d never woken up as warm as he had that morning. It was a feeling he’d spent minutes basking in, tracing every one of your resting features with his eyes and wondering how he’d function as your boyfriend, waking up nearly every morning with this same warmth in his chest. It almost seemed too good to be his reality. And if he was your boyfriend, he thought, that meant you were his and–

“Hoon! The pancakes!” you yelled and Sunghoon cursed loudly.

He moved the pan off the stove and turned on the kitchen hood, but it was too late. The pancake was charred beyond recognition and, looking down at it, he wondered how he hadn’t smelt the tinging scent of the burnt pancake.

Sunghoon sighed as he chucked away the pancakes. “I’m sorry, _____, that was the last bit of pancake batter we had. If you don’t mind, I can quickly run to the store and–”

“Don’t worry about it, Hoon,” you said, cutting him off as you slid off the island seat. He couldn’t see where you were, or where you were going, so he stifled his breath a bit when you slid up beside him and thrust your phone in his face. “Besides, we can order in.”

He spared a glance at your face, preparing himself for any signs of disappointment or irritation, but you were just smiling at him with a soft look in your eyes.

His brows furrowed. “Aren’t you hungry?”

“Yeah, I guess,” you started, shrugging, “but I can wait a couple of minutes.”

Sunghoon bit his lip, a protest and another apology on the tip of his tongue, and furrowed his brows further. Your eyes traced his movements, and you placed two gentle fingers on the fold between his brows, smoothing them out. He didn’t say anything as you did. He just lowered his head and frowned slightly at the smoking scent reminding him of his failed attempt at breakfast. You simply grinned at the obvious frustration and disappointment on his face, a look rising in your eyes that he didn’t catch as he chewed on his lower lip.

“Hoon,” you called out softly, waiting for him to raise his head. When he did, you took a step closer to him, a coy look in your eyes. “You didn’t answer my question.”

He was about to furrow his brows again in confusion, but your words from earlier replayed in his head as your smile only grew more teasing, and Sunghoon was sure he was turning as red as the strawberries on the counter behind him.

The boy averted his gaze from you, murmuring, “Well, I was hoping to ask if I could have the honour of being your boyfriend after, you know, we had food that I’d made in our stomachs and proper clothes on our bodies, but I guess so.”

“The honour?” you repeated, raising an eyebrow and muffling a laugh. Sunghoon glared at you lightly when you let a giggle slip, at which you apologised. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry. I promise I’ll bestow you with the honour of being my boyfriend after we run to the grocery store so you can fix up some pancakes and ask me out already.”

You almost laughed again at how quickly he perked up at your words and, this time, he rolled your eyes and smiled slightly at your teasing grin.

As he grabbed his keys, held your hand, and slipped out the door, the same warmth he’d felt that morning bloomed from where your hands met to every other bit of his body. He’d never imagined this, kissing his soon-to-be something in his car before a grocery run, was where he’d find himself after he’d had his first kiss on a night that felt like years ago. He couldn’t even imagine where he’d be with you in a couple of years. All he knew was he was glad you’d ended up as more than a summer fling.

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