Achilles' Heel | Hoshina X F!reader

achilles' heel | hoshina x f!reader

synopsis: the vice-captain has always been invisible, the perfect adjective for someone who is in a job where people come and go.

warning: language! (aside from that there's none... i think)

a/n: just very self-indulgent ! i hope my hoshina gurlies will love this 🤞🏼🥰🤍

"What's the situation in Tachikawa?"

"Not good. The amount of Yojus is continuously increasing," Konomi reported, "Shinomiya is helping a ton right now. But, this will be really, really bad if you don't go here immediately, Vice-Captain,"

Out of all the days, he had to go to the headquarters today for the monthly briefing with the general. Out of all the days, he thought in disbelief. He should've taken that unsettling feeling of seeing the squad, and you, smiling at each other this morning before he and Mina went.

"How many more minutes?" Mina asked the officer who was preparing for the special transportation that they would use to go back to Tachikawa base.

"30 minutes, Captain—"

"Make it ten," Sochiro says with finality.

"Vice-Captain Hoshina, that will be impossible to do—" Maybe it's a combination of fear, anxiety, and desperation, but in the blink of an eye, Sochiro grabs the collar of the officer in front of him, "Make it ten."

"Hoshina." Mina calls his name, making him stop. Holding onto Sochiro's shoulder, Mina prompted him to step back from the officer, "Please make it as fast as you can. We cannot waste more time."

"R-Roger!"

"Calm down, Vice-Captain," Mina spoke again, "They will be fine. Our officers are strong."

He knows that. He knows that more than anyone. He trained those officers with his own hands and pushed them every day to their limits. He's the one who guided them from the very beginning. But there's this... fear... that he cannot explain. And he hates himself for that.

Soshiro knows better than anyone that attachments should not be fostered in this line of work. They have a job with no certainty of tomorrow. People come and go all the time. As someone who has been here for the past years, gained and lost comrades in every mission, Soshiro thinks that he'll be smart enough to not fall in love with anyone. But that day... was just different.

When you walked into the exam room and he first saw you on the screen from the operations room, your hair was a little messy but in a pretty way, you were smiling at everyone, and you were so happy to get that 7% combat power for the first time. You were the most gentle in that batch, aside from being the most beautiful, and something about you messed with his brain.

It's like you wore your empathy like a weapon.

The first time he interacted with you alone was after your first mission. Soshiro got injured after saving an officer. He doesn't usually get injured with small-fry Kaijus, besides, he's one of the strongest in the Defense Force, but the timing was off and the only thing he wants is to save that officer. You did the first aid for his bleeding arm and continuously checked on him after that.

Soshiro couldn't explain it. He just woke up one day without the walls he hardly built up and found himself scared of losing you. He found himself secretly pursuing you inside the base. Giving you small gifts like it's a mission. Leaving just because flowers, mostly peonies, whenever he can drop by that flower shop near the Hoshina mansion. Leaving you notes with a smile on his face because the whole dorm is wiretapped. Requesting day-offs that coincide with yours. Soshiro was confused, but he was happy.

He shuts his eyes. How fucking selfish of him to only think of you right now, right?

"Let's go, Hoshina. They are ready."

Reports are continuously done through their earpieces. He can only listen. As long as he can still hear your name in action. Please, you have to hold on. Just until they are back to the base.

"Fortitude 9! A daikaiju just appeared! Shinomiya and ___ are facing it right now!"

Shivers went down his spine, and a wave of anger laced his voice as he shouted, "Tell them to back off! Are they fucking crazy?!"

You are not dumb. You are one of the most improved officers. But Fortitude 9 is just too much for your current stats. Hell, it's even too much for Kikoru right now who is much more advanced than you when it comes to skills.

"Hoshina." Mina calls him again, "Trust our officers."

"But—"

"They are not weaklings," Mina says.

You surely aren't. But he is, he admits in his mind. When it comes to you, he is.

The ride to Tachikawa base is agonizing.

When they reached the base, the fire caused by the raid was already gobbling up the buildings. Immediately, Sochiro went straight to the location of the Daikaiju and found you and Kikoru in an awful situation. You're down and unconscious after colliding with a wall.

Kikoru is still okay, but both of you need to go now.

"Vice-Captain!"

"Get out of here, Shinomiya." He commanded.

Kikoru stood up, wanting to get you out of the situation too, but Soshiro noticed her foot injury, "Get out! Now!"

"Vice-Captain, __ is still—"

"Worry about yourself." He says. It's an order. Kikoru knows.

He is a hypocrite. Because the first thing he did was to get the Kaiju away from where you're lying down as much as possible, "I am definitely going to kill you, disgusting piece of shit."

All his life, Soshiro was undermined. He's not good enough. He's not strong enough. His katana will never make a difference. He won't be able to save other people with it. But he did. He became Vice-Captain. Ashiro trusted him. His officers believe in him. But if he won't be able to save you today, then maybe they are right.

"Do you know who that girl is, you ugly fucker?" Sochiro asked the monster in front of him, "Someone you shouldn't touch because I'll definitely tear you to pieces if you do. Go to fucking hell now."

Kaijus has always angered Sochiro. But, the level of rage he has right now is just different and even Mina was shocked. They gave them no time to attack using big weapons as Sochiro went for the core of the Daikaju on his own.

They seized the Kaiju's body in possession for further studies and potential help that it could give the Defense Force. With blood on his forehead, Sochiro sprinted towards you after the kaiju was down. Pulling you close to his arms. You have a heartbeat, but very very injured. He still sighs in relief. As long as there's a heartbeat, "__," he calls for you faintly.

Broken ribs. A head concussion. Damaged weapons and suit maxed out. You really did your best out there. But you're still not a hero. You will never be. You just did your best because you know that he will come. There's no way he won't.

Thanks to the advanced technology of the Defense Force, your recovery was much faster. The Tachikawa base is under renovation after the huge damage and you were transferred to the care of Division 1 in the meantime, along with Kikoru and the hottest name in the force right now, Kafka Hibino.

Kikoru told you everything that happened. It turned out that Kafka is Kaiju No. 8 and he revealed himself to the force to protect everyone in Tachikawa. Captain Ashiro and Vice-Captain Hoshina thought that the Kaiju was officially down after Hoshina went to you, turns out that the raid is planned out more than the Defense Force expected. You weren't surprised though. You trust your comrades that much.

"Think you can start training tomorrow again?" Captain Narumi asks you.

"Yes, Captain." You feel fine and normal.

"Good," Gen smirked, "I don't give special treatments. Start showing me what you actually got. I am very, very curious."

"Captain," you gathered every courage left to address him.

"Hmm?"

"I'm sorry for asking you but I don't know anyone else here to ask, but is Vice-Captain Hoshina okay?"

Gen's face was painted with astonishment upon hearing your question. You are just wondering... it's not like he needs to answer it. You wrote him a text the moment you got your phone but he never responded. It's also not like he needs to reply, he probably has a lot of things to do after all that damage. But, you're just so worried.

"Do you think I give a fuck about that bowl-cut dude?" Narumi chuckles. Wow, he's really immature, you thought, "If you're asking if he's still alive, unfortunately, yes."

You concluded that you wouldn't get a decent answer from Narumi so you just saluted and went out of his office. When morning came, you were finally out again in the field. But since you're still adjusting, you stick with an exercise routine that you usually do before combat training. And honestly, even if you want to spar with Narumi, you feel like you'll just mess it up.

You can't stop thinking about Sochiro.

But weeks passed after your recovery and you're still waiting to hear from him that you're now pissed. You do not have an excuse anymore and Gen is already forcing you to spar with him. So, you did.

"That's all you got?" Narumi chuckles, pinning you on the ground, "You're overrated."

"What?" Your eyebrows furrowed at him as you kicked his stomach to get out of his grip. But Narumi is strong, there's a reason he's the Captain of Division 1.

"Your Vice-Captain praised you so much," he chuckled.

"Your fault, you believed him." You smirked. Just hearing the word Vice-Captain pissed you off, "Let go of me now."

"Don't wanna," Narumi smirks again.

"What? I'm gonna—"

"Captain Narumi," you were cut off by a voice you longed to hear for weeks. Gen's smile went wider at the sight of Sochiro. This son of a bitch. He knows Sochiro is coming and he's doing this to piss him off. You finally kicked him out of you.

"Well, well, how are you, Hoshina?" Narumi's mocking him.

"Good," he answered, "The meeting will start in minutes, Captain Narumi."

"Too bad I'm busy sparring with my officer,"

"I'm sure Officer __ can wait for you." Your eyes darted to Sochiro. His coldness sent shivers down your spine. The frustration and confusion crawled in your system once again. You haven't seen each other for weeks and this is how he treats you? Like who the fuck cares if Narumi's here? Does he want to be a professional gentleman now?

Or... maybe he's just done with you. Maybe the rumors are right. The Vice-Captain is never serious when it comes to his relationships. Now that you're not under his wing, he's already done. Maybe that's it, then?

Narumi doesn't really have a choice so he stood up and went with Sochiro to go to the meeting, leaving you alone in the training room. Just in time for dinner, you went with Kikoru and Kafka.

"Vice-Captain is here, have you seen him?" Kikoru asked. You nodded quietly.

After dinner, you changed to a pair of sleepwear. Don't get it wrong, you love Division 1. But you just really want to go back to Tachikawa.

Unable to sleep, you stayed looking at the window from your room. You're in the same position when the raid happened. You remembered thinking about what's really between you and Sochiro. Maybe you got the answer you want now.

"How are you?" You almost jumped out of shock as you hear his voice. Sochiro stands beside the door, "The door is unlocked. I'm sorry."

You looked away from him— tearing up. Wow, he's here, but does that make up for the days he ghosted you? This asshole. Maybe Narumi should really punch him in the gut.

"If Narumi is forcing you to train, tell me—"

"Shut up."

"I'm sorry, baby,"

Oh, how you hate this man. He knows exactly what to do. He knows exactly how to get you over and over again.

"I hate you so much," you looked at him.

To you, Sochiro is like the stars. Before entering the Defense Force, everyone admired Mina Ashiro. But you were different. You admired the Vice-Captain who is mostly not seen. He saved you once when you were a civilian. He saved you over and over again when you were a cadet, and he still continued to save you when you became an officer.

"Not a single response to my messages? Not a single letter? Do you know how worried I am? Do you know how much I thought that you're blaming yourself for what happened when that's not—" In the blink of an eye, Sochiro envelopes your small figure to his arms.

"I'm sorry,"

"If you're done with me, you can just tell me." You removed yourself from his embrace.

"Done with you?"

"Isn't that the reason why, Vice-Captain Hoshina?" You asked him, "You're probably—"

"You scared the fuck out of me that I got scared even more because I never felt that way before. I was terrified, that I have to take a step back," He spoke, "Tell me why would you face a Daikaiju like that? You have nothing to lose? You're not scared?"

"I am an officer of the Defense Force, Vice-Captain. That is my duty—"

"Fuck that." He hissed, "What about me?"

"What about you?" You asked in confusion. Sochiro is never the type to curse his duty. He loves his job. He fought for this job.

"I can't lose you."

"Sochiro..."

"For years, I fought for the Defense Force thinking I have nothing to lose. Death never scared me. But when I saw you lying down, unconscious, I feel like being punched in the gut a million times, __." Seeing him lose his composure is new to you, "This is so wrong because I have a duty to fulfill and so are you and it's unfair for the Defense Force that we took an oath for, but I just can't... lose you..."

"Sochiro..." you held his face, "You won't lose me just because of that. I am not weak."

"I know." He gave you a weak smile, "But I am... when it comes to you. You're my Achilles' heel."

The great Vice-Captain Sochiro Hoshina is confessing that you make his knees tremble in fear, something not even the biggest Kaiju can do. He envelopes you in his warmth and places a soft kiss on your forehead, "I love you too damn much."

You start dying the day you are born.

Memories of a relationship A man traversing grief and single fatherhood at the same time

Featuring: Togame.J x F!Reader

Contents: NSFW MDNI, one smut scene, fluff to heavy angst, hurt w/o comfort, ambiguous/open ending, pregnancy&birth, set post-canon, part two set in Togame’s pov, major character death, implication of suicide(Togame), heavy grief, self-induced vomiting(Togame), girl dad!Togame, not beta read

WC: 10k

Part 1

[January 15]

It was a cold winter and the soft blue mohair scarf tucked your neck away from the snowy breeze. The sun does little to warm the earth. Cafe signs read Festive Lattes, with the promise of bringing heat into bellies. You shivered and the hand around yours slightly squeezed tight. Togame releases himself from your grip to tighten your scarf, lifting the edges to cover more of your face. When he’s done, he kisses your nose, making you giggle uncontrollably. Flecks of snow cover his black hair like a string of lights. Your fingers skim the icy air when you reach up to brush his hair, melting the white away. His emerald green eyes crinkle and wrinkles form at the corners as he looks upon you with his heart. A milky swirl escapes his mouth when he talks.

“Don’t get sick.” 

“I won’t.” 

[May 2]

Water drips off the umbrella that Togame is holding between the two of you. Standing on your tippy-toes you pluck the sunglasses off the tip of his nose, you place them on your own. 

“How can you see with these on? It’s raining, you know?” Squinting your eyes to make out the pole of the street lamp. 

“I can see just fine.” 

“Why do I feel like you’re lying?” 

“I would never lie to you.” He scratches his chin trying to sound nonchalant about what he said, but his tone is far from the truth. 

The truth is, he lives by those words– Togame would never lie to you. I won’t look away and stay true to myself!! He won’t look away and run, he’ll stare at you even if you burn the sight out of his eyes. He never knew life could be this bright for someone like him until you came along, forced your way into his world, and made it your dwelling. If Choji was his sun– you had to be greater than that, you were one of those stars millions of miles away that make the sun pale in comparison. The orange ombre shades are tilted, it’s too big for you. The corner of his lips tugs up into a smirk, he grips the bridge of the sunglasses and pulls them off. His heart stutters when he sees you directly looking into his eyes. 

[June 30]

Love Love Love Love Love

Togame can’t count how many times that word slipped out of your mouth. You lay beside him on the attic floor as you tell him about all the things– everything you love. From your favorite color to what shoes you want to buy. On the other hand, he doesn’t remember if he ever said that word before. There was a lack of love in his life, in his teens, most of his attention went to Shishitoren and becoming strong. To be strong is to be free. Togame believes he has yet to overcome the barriers that prevent him from giving and receiving affection. All the relationships that he “fell in love” in only brought him pain. 

But he was at ease laying on the creaking wooden floorboards in the cobwebbed dingy attic. His past partners told him he was never enough and he considered that the bleak truth, he just wasn’t cut out for love. What he’s feeling next to you is vivid and it explodes through every vein that makes up his body. Every cell in him is trying to connect to yours like magnets.

“So, what do you love?” You turn your neck to look at him. 

“I…” he pauses, “...I love…you.” 

You give him a cheeky smile, “Are you asking me to be your girlfriend?” 

“Do you not want to?” His lips remain parted. 

“I want to…but I’ve already been calling myself your girlfriend.” 

You laugh. He laughs.

[August 14] 

Even during the night, the air is still hot and humid, sticking to his bare skin. Sand nestles itself into the crevices of your feet and knees and sweeps through. You rest your head on Togame’s shoulder, the towel wrapped around the both of you soaks up the water dripping off your hair. Daybreak is quickly approaching, the sun is going to rise soon. It was a last-minute decision to go to the beach, Togame and you swam until the sun came up. You can still smell the saltwater when he wraps an arm around your shoulder and pulls you closer to him. Shifting, your legs bump into his. 

It was a sight to behold, the bright rays spewed over the rippling sea, creating multicolored spots along the surface of the water. “It’s pretty…” You mumble, nuzzling into him. Togame replies, “Yeah, it is.” But he wasn’t looking ahead, he was looking at you. He swears he’s in the presence of an angel, a mystery in this world that can’t be explained by human intellect. How can a being be so perfect? Togame thought. 

Togame never considered himself a sentimental dreamer who fancies romance, but at this moment he’s thinking about all the future moments you’ll share with him, ones just like this. You sneeze and he pulls you into his lap, wraps his arms around you, and spills his warmth into you. The sky continues to blaze brightly.

[November 3] 

“It’s alright.” You softly murmur. 

Clothes were strewn across the floor, spread about in heaps. Sweat drips off Togame’s hair and splatters on the skin between your breasts. He’s had sex before, sex with people he thought he was in love with, sex with girls in bar bathrooms, but it all pales in comparison to what he’s going through right now. He strains himself still so he doesn’t come undone from only entering you like a teenage virgin boy having his first time. Togame reopens his eyes when you caress his jawline, he tightens his hand around yours, pressing it into the sheets as he steadies himself. His muscles contort when he rolls his hips, a breathy exhale and he feels his eyes roll back into his skull. 

The sensation was better than he could’ve ever dreamed of, your warm walls wrapped around him snugly. You weren’t faring any better, soft mewls bounce off the walls of his bedroom as he fucks deeper into you. Neither of you rushed to have your first time together until the build-up and tension finally broke the dam. When you couldn’t stop craving Togame and he couldn’t stop craving you. 

He felt your nails crawl along his spine. 

“Jo…” You whimper when he nudges your cervix. Upon hearing his name, he dives down for a kiss. A hungry and passionate desire, eating up all your moans, swallowing every sound you make. Togame hears a symphony when you chant his name as you near your orgasm. You wrap your legs around his waist and he hugs you into his chest as you two groan into each other’s ears. There isn’t a single millimeter separating your bodies. Only skin, tissue, and bones separate your hearts. 

[December 25] 

Children sing choirs, holiday banners are strung up all around town, and the snow packs on top of the grass. On the kitchen counter, two cups of hot cacao emit steam. Holding each handle in your hands, you walk back to the couch. 

“Here.” You place one in front of Togame who is wrapped up in a funny patterned blanket. A gag gift from one of his friends; cats wearing Santa hats. “Thanks, baby.” He blows on the surface, moving the chocolatey milk concoction.

You sit down on the couch next to him, pulling a throw over yourself as well. A white fuzzy material, the warm mug heats your hands. The heater broke earlier this morning and no nearby businesses are open and working during Christmas. So, you have to endure it until the next day. Thankfully, your boyfriend was as hot as a furnace. He double-wraps you with his blanket and snuggles up to you. 

Despite the cold, you had fun. Ripped wrapping paper stuffed the trash bin to the brim. The gifts Togame and you got each other laid on the coffee table with the plate full of gingerbread men cookies you two decorated together. He made you and forced you to eat the cookie because he said he couldn’t bear to eat you in cookie form. 

“You tired?” He noticed your wide yawn. 

Blinking slowly, you reply, “Yeah.” 

Togame hums and lays down on the couch, opening his arm for you to lie on his torso. You immediately crawl on top of him and plop down, basking in his body heat, you sigh. He chuckles and his chest rumbles against your head. “Rest up, darling.” 

[February 16] 

You currently watch Togame giddily dart around the kitchen trying to remake a dish he learned for you. He had picked up a job as a chef and was excited to show you all his new skills. Squeaky clean knives are placed on the countertop as he pulls the kelp around the fresh orange salmon. Resting your face on your hand, “What’re you going to make, Jo?” You ask. 

“Ochazuke (green tea over rice).” He responds while pre-heating the oven. 

Togame repeats what the seniors at work taught him– unwrapping and placing the salmon onto the baking sheet. He turns to skillfully chop the scallions, displaying his new ability. You giggle at the view. When the salmon turns crispy, he brews the tea. Rice, furikake, a pickled plum, and the salmon are placed in two bowls. “Watch.” You lean over and he pours the tea in, submerging all the ingredients in a light broth. 

“Can I get a kiss for my hard work now?” He turns his cheek to you. 

You laugh and press a chaste peck on his cheekbone. 

[March 24] 

Petals float into his eyes as he squeezes through the crowd, most are donning capes and caps. Togame eyes dart around trying to find you at the meetup location you informed him of. An hour ago, you walked across the stage and got your diploma. “Jo!” He snaps his head to where your voice came from and sees you speed over towards him. The cloak enveloped you so perfectly, like a veil. “Jo, I was looking for you.” He smiles, you look so proud and happy, the years paid off, “Me too.” He would always look for you. This love nurtured him, he’ll love you forever.

“Was it really okay for you to take today off?” You fret. 

“They didn’t mind at all.” Togame cups your face with his hands, “I’m so proud of you.” 

Your smile is squished up.

[April 13]

“Happy birthday, happy birthday to you!” All his friends are in the room when you place the cake in front of him. An ice cream cake with chocolate, vanilla, and cookie crumbles in the middle. “Happy Birthday” is scribbled in black gel on the top. Enough sugar is packed into it to make someone sick. The numbered candles flicker and the flames wave with the slightest breath. Everyone cheers and claps. 

“Blow it out!” 

“Make a wish!” 

“C’mon, birthday boy!” 

“Jo, happy birthday.” You fix the cone hat on his head. The hat his friends– mainly Choji, forced him to wear. They whistle. 

Togame chuckles and deeply inhales, extinguishing all the candles in one single blow. Smoke bellows out. You clap your hands as the room erupts in laughter, you’re looking at him with hearts in your eyes. “Happy birthday, baby.” You give him a big fat wet kiss on the chin. He catches a glimpse of the golden balloon banner: Happy Birthday! 

[July 1]

Orange juice drips down the sides of your fingers, you lick it up. The sour-sweet liquid mingles on your tastebuds. 

The juicer shakes– destroying, tearing, and squeezing everything the fruit is capable of offering. Its peel releases a mellow citrus scent that fogs up the room. Halves, quarters, and slices are funneled into the machine. The pulp gets caught by the mesh strainer, its counterpart flows smoothly into the jug below. You turn and wash the sticky coating off your hands in the sink. 

The door jingles open.

“I’m home.” Togame places his bag down on the bench and heads over to you. “What’re you making, darling?” 

“Orange juice, do you want some?” You pour it into a cup and hold it up to his lips– you know he’ll take it. 

Togame does, placing his hand under to tip the content into his mouth. The watch on his wrist tells the time: 8:31 PM. He gulps– swallowing all the orange’s hard work. You drink it off his tongue when he presses his lips to yours. 

[August 20]

Okinawa Churaumi Aquarium

“Jo, Jo, look!” 

He traces his eyes to where you’re gesturing at. It’s a huge tank, a wide variety of fish swim about, and in the middle, a whale shark glides along the current. Many hold up their phones to snap photos. Your bag weighs the left of his shoulder down, you’re weighing him down and he’s glad that you are. The blue illuminating from the tank caresses the features of your face, exposing you to the blind eye. He harbors a profoundly tender, undoubtedly affection for the person by his side. One of the simplest, yet most complex feelings he has ever touched.  

You stare in awe as the manta ray flaps its wings, radiating eminence like a dove soaring through the skies. 

“Where should we go next?” Togame opens up the pamphlet the worker gave him again, he scans through the map. Next is the 3F Journey to a Coral Reef: A World Brimming with Colorful Marine Life. “Do you want to see the corals?”

“Let’s go see it together.” You clasp his hand in yours, intertwining fingers. Even now, he gets butterflies tickling his belly. 

[September 4]

The alarm blares on the nightstand. You shuffle, letting out a groan, and extending your hand to get a hold of your phone, and you squint your eyes to read the time: 6:01 AM. Sitting up, you stretch your arms above your head, waking up every muscle. Togame stirs beside you, grumbling something incoherent. You stifle a laugh and bend to kiss his forehead. He wakes up later, the restaurant doesn’t open until the afternoon. 

Water splashes on your face as you get ready. 

Fully dressed, you pack your bag. “G’morning…” Togame leans against the doorframe, rubbing his eyes. “Good morning, are you coming back later today?” You ask. It’s a Wednesday and Togame usually heads to the gym after work on Wednesdays. “Hmm, yeah, I think so.” He rasps out. “Have a good day, baby.” Togame kisses the corner of your mouth when you walk to the front door. 

“You too.” Opening the door and peeking to see him before you shut it. “I’m off,” you call out and he waves. 

[September 27]

It’s late, your period is late by three weeks. You run a hand over your face as the test sits on the ceramic bathroom sink. Palms sweaty as you lean over the rendering test. The first line. Your nerves tingle as you await the verdict. The latex microbeads are the judge of how your life will continue, you wait with bated breaths. 

You want Togame, you want him to hold you in his arms instead of standing in the bathroom alone. A second line. 

Togame is wiping a chopping board down when a phone rings. “Hey, it’s yours Togame!” A voice informs him. He makes his way to the back alley to call you back, you never call during his work hours. His stomach clenches as the device continues to ring. 

Sniffles emerge when the call is picked up. “Are you crying? What’s wrong?” Togame feels sweat form all over his body. 

“Can you come home?” You choke at the end. 

“Sure, I’ll come home right now– sit tight,” Togame informs his coworkers of an emergency and rushes back to the apartment where he finds you on the bathroom floor. “Are you alright? What happened?” He pushes damp strands of hair out of your face. You press your hand against him. “The test,” gesturing to the sink. Togame slowly stands up and notices the test along with the two lines. 

“It’s alright, we’ll figure it out,” he presses your head into his shoulder, his shirt soaking up your tears. “Shhh, it’s okay. You’re the most important person to me. I love you.” His hand rubs up and down your back, as you seek comfort, trembling in his hold. 

Tears stain your cheeks as you lay on the pillow next to him, breathing hitching every few seconds. “I’m okay, we’re okay. I love you. I’m here for you, darling.” You nod as he strokes your wet face. His heart pumps out a thousand prayers: I love you, I love you, I love you. 

“Togame…Togame!” Another chef pats his back to get his attention.

“Oh– yes?” 

“You alright? You’ve been spacing out, did something happen?” All his coworkers confirm the man’s concern. 

Togame licks his lips, “I’m, uh…gonna be a father.” 

The whole kitchen stops what they’re doing and congratulates him. Hugs, handshakes, and pats and showered on the new prospective dad. The workers who were already fathers gave advice and ruffled his hair. His boss sends him home for the day. 

He tells the news to his acquaintances, friends, best friends, past lovers, and the cats on the way back to you. He tells the trees, the flowers, and the pebbles. He wants to tell the whole world. 

[October 12]

A pack of letters tied together with a red ribbon is left on the tabletop. 

You see it when you wake up and head to the kitchen. There’s a cup of tea next to the stack. You sit down and pick up the letters, turning them around to inspect what they could contain. The ribbon pulls apart in one tug. A multitude of envelopes splatter on top of one another. You pick one up, open it, and pull out the card. 

Happy 7th Birthday! 

You’re no longer a toddler, you can write and tie your own shoes now! That’s a big girl achievement. How amazing, I know I wasn’t around to see it, but I’m sure everyone was so proud. 7 is a big deal. Skip another step on hopscotch, let ice cream drip all over the floor, run down the slides, and have an amazing 7th birthday. 

– Togame Jo

Picking up another random envelope:

Happy Sweet 16th,

High school must be difficult, but I’m sure you can handle it. All your classmates and friends are at school waiting for you. I hope the sun shined a little brighter this year as you tackle tests and homework. 16-year-old you will be so happy to see who she has become, getting into college, and studying your favorite subject. Wishing you the happiest 16th year. 

– Togame Jo

Happy 18th Birthday! 

Wow, you’re now an adult! It’s your last year of high school, you’re about to graduate! You must’ve worked hard. I honestly don’t remember much about 18-year-old me, but I’m sure you do. So, just know that I think 18-year-old you was remarkable. Your kindness is so much bigger than you give it credit, I thought that when you told me about the cat you saved when you were 18. Adulthood must’ve been scary to imagine, but now you start making big choices and defining who you’ll be in life (p.s. you did that well). 

– Togame Jo

Happy 19th! 

We meet this year, isn’t that something? I can recall when I first saw you, you looked like a fairy. I believe I fell in love at first sight (It’s true). The way you carried yourself up until now is inspiring. We got to know each other and kissed, when we kissed for the first time I thought my heart was going to explode. Sometimes I lay in bed and wonder: what if we never met? I get filled with worry, but then don’t care because I would’ve found you either way. We were meant to be together. Happy birthday sweetheart. 

– Love, Togame Jo

Happy 1st Birthday!

You probably didn’t know it back then, but you were about to embark on a wonderful journey. You’ll meet people, make friends, and be surrounded by love (1-year-old you is really cute, by the way).

– Togame Jo

Happy 22! 

I got to spend this birthday with you. But I want to say all the things I said that day again; I love you, I’m so happy I got to meet you, you’re astonishing. I wake up and think about how much I’m blessed to be your boyfriend. You graduate soon– I could talk forever about all the things that happened this year. Let’s go back to the beach and swim all night again. Can I say it yet? I’m excited to be able to write this. 

– Your future husband, Togame Jo. 

There are more letters on the table, a card for each birthday up until this year. The tea has cooled down as you place the last letter of the most recent birthday down. A tear hits the paper, creating a dark spot– you didn’t even realize you were crying. You feel so tender and vulnerable, your heart is split open like a plum. For a split second, you see yourself in the reflection of the black screen before you open the phone up. Togame’s location is right outside the front door. 

The doorknob shakes as you grip it with your quivering hand. You pull the door back, there stands Togame with a bouquet of peonies. 

“Did you finish reading them?” 

You sniffle, tears pouring down your cheeks. You’re unable to speak. 

“Don’t cry–” He fumbles a bit before shoving the bouquet into your face. You break out into a smile and laugh, accepting and holding the flowers in your hands. He gets down on one knee and opens the black velvet box, revealing a shiny ring on the cushion. “Will– Will you marry me?” Togame stops breathing. 

“Yes, Jo– I’ll marry you.” 

His fingers feel cold when he slides the band onto your left ring finger. When he stands up, you drop the bouquet and wrap your arms around his neck to kiss him. He smiles, wrapping an arm around your waist. “Have you been standing out here all morning?” You rub his cheek. 

“Anything for my wife.” 

[November 9]

I do. I do.

The wedding was a small gathering of family and friends. But it was the wedding of your dreams, marrying the man you loved. 

“Did you really cry when you saw me?” You roll onto your side to talk to your husband. 

“I did, you were so beautiful.” 

“That’s so cheesy.” 

“I’m always cheesy with it comes to you.” 

Togame moves closer to you, shifting the bed while doing so. He places his hand over your womb, “I never thought I would have a family,” he stops to steady his vocal cords. “I was a delinquent, you know? Always up to no good and fighting was all I did.” Togame blinks and a wet film forms over his green eyes. “Now, now– I have a wife and I’m going to be a father,” his voice cracks. “I’m really happy, I love you, I love us, I love our baby.” Togame cries, tears roll off his lashes and onto the cotton pillowcase. 

You pull him towards you and he buries his head into your chest. Your fingers card through his short black hair, there is still some gel left in it. “I know, I know…I feel the same way too. I love you, Jo.” You softly whisper to him, he shakes like a leaf against you. November is mid-winter, it should be cold, but it’s warm. 

[April 29] 

“When are you due?” Your friend sips her smoothie looking at your showing stomach. 

“The doctor said sometime in late June.” You take a bite of the cheesy waffle. 

“Awe, I’m so excited to meet little Rie.” She gushes. 

Rie was the name Togame and you chose for your baby girl, meaning blessing. The cafe is bustling, college students and the elderly alike come and go as you chat with your high school friend. You were on maternity leave and waiting for the date. The emerald-cut diamond ring is comfortably splayed on your finger when you go to pick up the cup of water. You miss Togame even though you saw him a few hours ago.

“How are things going between you and your husband– actually I can’t believe you’re married. Back in high school, you were on a roll, really, none of our old friends believed me when I said you got married and were pregnant. It’s amazing, everyone thought you would take longer to settle down– even I thought you never were going to.” Her lips curl up. “I’m happy for you, I mean it. Togame– Jo, wow, you’re also a Togame now. He’s good for you, you’re practically shining– don’t they call it pregnancy glow? I think you’re glowing.” 

You laugh at her words, “Oh, yeah. I once thought in high school that I’d never have a family. Now, I don’t regret anything. At first, I was scared. You know? I thought the world was going to end, but Jo– he really helped me back then. Back then, all I did was cry– no, seriously I cried all day and night. He took a few days off work and calmed me down. I’m grateful for him. This might sound dumb, but– I think he’s my soulmate– don’t laugh. I just can’t imagine myself with another man who isn’t Jo or even having a kid with someone who’s not Jo.” 

The two of you continue to talk until Togame picks you up to go home. 

[June 25]

The hospital's fluorescent lights shine all around you. Stars start forming all around the room like a nebula you see in a space photo. Each star twinkles in an array of colors. Your body is sweaty as you heave, the nurse takes a cloth and wipes your forehead, but it still feels damp. It hurts? It hurts. Everything is tingling. She peels the gown down, exposing your chest, and places a newborn– your newborn on your bare skin. A tiny yellow hat is on her head. Seven pounds and four ounces. Rie, she’s coated in a mixture of liquids as she cries at the top of her lungs into your breast. 

“Oh, you’re so little…” Tears slip down your face as you tuck your chin to see her. 

Togame leans his forehead against your temple, “Thank you– thank you for being born safely.” Her cheeks are so tiny in comparison to Togame’s index finger. You cry and all the emotions welled up in you pour out into the delivery room. A healthy baby girl. 

[October 18]

The curtains blow with the wind. 

“Why’re there so many windows?” Choji places a cardboard box in the middle of an empty room and skips around. 

“She said she wanted a house with a lot of windows.” Togame thinks back. I want all the windows open– there has to be a lot of windows. 

“Really?” Sako and Inugami enter with even more boxes. Arima comes back down from the second floor, “How exciting man, you got a family.” He grins and walks to his former Shishitoren members. 

His Shishitoren pals move furniture and set up the house, and even some old Bofurin come around and lend a hand. 

“Rie, right? Congrats.” Umemiya pats his shoulder with a grin. Togame thanks the white-haired man. 

“Sakura, that goes into the nursery,” Nirei instructs the two-toned boy. 

“Hah? Where’s that?” 

“Over here.” 

Togame watches everyone come together to help him set up the new house. It makes him feel funny inside that all these people took time out of their days to dedicate it to him. He set one foot in front of the other, it felt like a heavenly blessing bestowed upon him, a man young and in love. Rie was absolutely lovely and pure as light, she resembled you more. Waking up to you and Rie made him feel like he was basking infinitely in the sunshine. There was no other word than “love” that could describe these days. People spend their whole lives searching for it, saying that it doesn’t exist when it doesn’t grace them with its presence. 

[November 8]

Rie was growing fast, a bit too fast for Togame’s liking. He still wanted her to remain small and tiny for just a little longer, for there to be more moments where you all lay on the rug together. Rie nibbled on her toy, her skin was velvety and soft as bread. You coo at her and take the toy away from her mouth, she kicks and fusses. 

“Shhh…” Togame watches you calm her down, stroking her puffy cheek with the back of your finger. “Ah, could you watch her? I want to head to the store to buy more milk.” You sit up and pat your clothes down. 

“I can go instead.” 

“Stay here with Rie, have some daddy and daughter time.” You press your nose into him and stand up. 

He relents, you’ve been with the baby ever since you got back from the hospital, and he knows you need some time alone. “Alright, be safe. Okay, honey?” He crosses his legs and places Rie in his lap. “Say bye-bye to mommy.” He grins and waves her miniature arm at you. 

“Bye-bye Rie, mommy will be back soon, be good for daddy.” You blow a kiss at your husband and baby. 

Part 2

Grief is love with nowhere to go. 

Wailing fills the room, there’s no other noise he can hear. Togame grips the bars of the crib to the point where his knuckles turn white. He felt his soul being ripped apart, opening the gates for an agonizing pain– terrible and airless, it wraps its claws around his throat, a silent asphyxiation. There’s a desire in him, to fill his pockets with stones and head into the sea. How can he live without you? How can you leave him? Rie continues to cry and cry and cry. His hands are stinging, indents on his palms when he lets go. 

She’s crying out for you– for her mother. Togame stands up, the tears on her pudgy cheeks mirror his. Your blood mixed with his runs through this child’s veins. He picks Rie up and rests her against his shoulder, patting her back to try and soothe her to no avail. It’s almost like she’s mourning her mother’s death. Falling to his knees, he cries alongside her, two trembling people clinging onto one another. The moonlight moves around the nursery, the white glow is the only source of light. Her little hand clenches his shirt. She must be hungry, he forces himself up to make a bottle of milk. Copying everything he saw you do, but Rie doesn’t take to the bottle. She doesn’t latch onto it. He’s at his wit's end. Why didn’t he pay more attention to what you did? Why didn’t he question you on how to calm the baby down? Why did he never think to ask you how to take care of Rie? Because he believed you would always be here– be beside him. You were immortal to him until you weren’t. 

Togame snaps awake, gasping, his eyes dart around the room. Rie is snoozing in his arms, he is still supporting her body against his chest. His mind fell asleep, but his body didn’t. He lets out a sigh. The full bottle is set on the table. Slowly, he gets up off the chair, walks over to the crib, and places Rie gently down on the mattress. Togame holds his breath as he lets go, she doesn’t stir. Quietly, he walks out of the room and down the hall into the living room. His pillow is on the couch, the baby monitor speaker is on the coffee table, and his clothes are thrown about on the furniture. He hadn’t slept on the bed since the day you passed, it was too much to feel that you were still here. His mind kept telling him that you were going to come to bed any minute. 

His phone clicks open with a ding, notifications are displayed in a row, and he scrolls through them. Weather notifications, messages from his friends, emails from his boss, notifications from the baby monitor, and menial ads. Friday. It’s already Friday. He can’t remember the last time he went to work, they must’ve fired him by now– he couldn’t even go anyways, Rie would be left alone. Togame rubs his forehead, pulling the skin with his hand. At some point, his stomach growls, and he can’t recall when he last ate. The fridge is empty and barren, aside from condiments and beers on the door– aside from the rotting orange in the fruit compartment. A dark green fungus eats away at the flesh, skinning the peel off, and torments the orange. It passes away, unable to endure. 

The tab presses into the can, breaking the seal, and a sizzle rips out. He raises the rim to his lips and drinks the liquid down. Six large gulps flow down his throat, but he tastes malt– he tastes malt. Immediately Togame runs to the sink and coughs into the stainless steel basin. What did he just do? He sticks his fingers into the back of his mouth until he regurgitates all the liquid up– or until he thinks he has. Beads stick to his lashes, falling when he blinks, snot is running out his nose, and his entire chin is coated with saliva. He gags. Togame didn’t even notice that he grabbed a can of alcohol, not even processing what he was doing. He curses, wipes his chin dry, and pours the rest of the beer down the drain. How can he drink when Rie’s depending on him, he’s the only one here for her now. If something were to happen to her– he pressed his hands to his face, tugging at his hair. 

He needs help, he can’t even function as a normal individual, so how can he be a father right now? 

Togame texts the first person he can think of, the one who helped him back on his feet when he was stuck under the shade; Sakura Haruka. 

It doesn’t take long for Sakura to show up at his front step, Togame swings open the door before the man can even ring the bell. 

“Sorry, it’s a mess right now. I mean— look at me. I’m a mess.” He dryly chuckles when he sits down on the couch, insulting himself. 

“Hey, it’s alright. I haven’t seen you since–” Sakura stopped himself, he felt it was taboo to mention the funeral of Togame’s wife, especially when Togame barely looked put together. “You need help.” Sakura isn’t well-versed socially, but even he knows that the black-haired man isn’t stable. His two-colored eyes travel up and down, Togame has an overgrown beard– something he has never seen before. Excluding the miserable husband and father, the house was in disarray. Pots and dishes lay dirty in the kitchen sink, trash was spilling out of the bin, and energy drinks littered the coffee table– all the surface tops Sakura could see. 

Sakura isn’t sure if he should ask Togame if he’s okay because he already knows the truth– the man isn’t. 

“I just can’t find time to clean– Rie cries all hours of the day, I need to book a doctor’s appointment for her– she hasn’t been eating that much. I think she’s losing weight– she feels lighter.” Togame furrows his brows in dread as he lists everything he needs to do to Sakura. “I’m trying, but it just…isn’t enough.” 

“Did you drink?” Sakura spots the beer can on the counter. 

“I did– I chucked it up though. I didn’t even see what I was drinking,” he laughs, “isn’t that crazy? I think I’m going crazy. If she was here–” Togame voice cuts off. He’s so pathetic without you, he thinks. 

“Can I call someone?” Sakura asks. 

“Sure– yeah, go ahead.” 

A few people show up: Umemiya, Kotoha (people Sakura thinks are good with kids), Suo, and Nirei (people who popped into his mind right away). 

Because Sakura is in unfamiliar territory, he cannot comprehend how Togame is feeling, and he definitely doesn’t know anything about child-rearing. 

Togame showers as they all help clean up the house. Kotoha is tending to Rie, accessing his concern about her lack of eating. He’s using the guest bathroom since he’s also been avoiding the bathroom you use, all your stuff is there, and even strands of your hair are still on the bath mat. The hot water slithers all over, washing away the dirt that’s been stuck to his skin. He can hardly recognize himself in the mirror when he wipes away the fog, revealing his unruliness. He can’t remember the last time he had let his beard grow out this much, he doesn’t think he ever did. So, he shaves— for the first time in weeks. 

When he steps out into the living room, Kotoha is bouncing Rie in her arms. Togame never talked to her before, though he knew that she was Umemiya’s little sister. Rie squeals and giggles, flapping her arms around. For a split second, he sees you. You’re the one holding his daughter– your daughter. Bobbing her up and down, kissing her cheeks, and smiling so warmly at your bundle of joy. Toagme’s breath hitches and he digs his nails into his hand in an effort to stop himself from crying in front of everyone. He is so tender in his grief. 

“You should see a psychologist.” Umemiya hands him a glass of water. 

“I need to take Rie to the pediatrician first.” 

“Right, you should. But don’t ignore yourself. She needs you to be healthy.” He takes a moment to think. “I can watch over Rie when you go. We all can.” Umemiya suggests. 

“I’ll just take her with me.” Togame places the cup on the table. 

“You need some time alone–” 

“She’s all I have left– what if, what if something happens when I’m not there again.” Togame fists at his pants, “Oh god, I don’t know…” He’s spiraling. 

Umemiya remains silent. He knows Togame is refusing to let Rie out of sight due to fear. “Trust us.” He spoke with sympathy to the widow.

In the shopping center, Togame waits in front of the family bathroom. 

Rie fusses in her stroller uncomfortably. All he can do is rock her until he can change her diaper. Her lip wobbles, she’s on the verge of screaming, and he debates his next action. Whoever is in the bathroom is taking way too long, it's been over 15 minutes. The men’s doesn’t have a changing station and he’s not keen on taking her there anyways. 

“Oh, how she’s so cute.” An old lady peers into the stroller. 

“Thank you.” Togame offers her a small smile. 

“Are you giving mom some time off?” 

Togame opens his mouth to respond, but he can’t form any words. Her unknowing words had skinned him raw. She thinks you’re still alive. People are going about their days not knowing you’re gone, living their lives without the slightest bump. The passersby don’t know that he’s suffering. How can they go on with their lives like nothing happened? He feels angry and then an excruciating sadness. Rie whimpers and it snaps him out of his train of thought. “Sorry, I need to change her diaper.” He doesn’t spare the lady another glance as he unbuckles Rie and takes her into the women’s bathroom. 

A young lady is at the sink fixing her makeup, a college student, Togame thinks. She stares at him wide-eyed. “Um, just– my baby.” He rushes to the large stall in the back, the one he knows has a changing station. When he locks the stall he hears her footsteps disappear, she quickly leaves after seeing him. Togame sighs but continues with tending to Rie. With a fresh diaper on her, he scurries out of the women’s, apologizing on the way out. Some of them give him dirty looks. Sure it annoyed him, but he ignored it, placing Rie back in the stroller and going off on their way. 

The doctor suggested to him to start solid foods. At the appointment, he realized how little he knew about his own daughter. Togame struggled to answer some of the questions because you were the one who took Rie to these visits. He has to be two now. 

The white-coat woman cleared her throat, “Why don’t you call your wife? Is she busy? I usually see her instead.” 

“She passed away.” Togame cringed when he said those words, it was the first time he told someone you were dead. 

She gasped and covered her mouth. “Oh, I’m so sorry.” 

He nibbles on the inside of his lip. 

“I can– I’ll print out the papers with things you need, stuff to know for future appointments. Wait a moment here.” She returns with a few papers stapled together. “Rie is quite healthy. You mentioned her eating habits, I believe you’re feeding her too frequently. When babies cry, it doesn’t always mean they’re hungry– here’s a time schedule on when to feed her. I also included some parenting tips in this folder.” The doctor clasps her hands on her lap. “We also offer counseling for single parents here, would you like to make an appointment? There’s also a fully staffed nursery, if you’re struggling with finding someone to look after her– Rie. There are one-on-one talks with a certified therapist and weekly group meetings in the program.” She hands him a pamphlet. 

“I’ll do it.” Togame doesn’t open the pamphlet. He then gets handed an appointment card. 

In front of the baby section, he stares at the text Umemiya’s wife had sent in the group chat. What to get, what to avoid, what to make sure of, and a few links. He follows everything to his best judgment and heads home with a few bags. 

At home, he sits in front of Rie and feeds her the puree out of the jar– or tries to. She sticks her tongue out refusing to take another spoon, slapping her veggie-coated hands against the tray. “Another bite?” Togame holds the spoon out. Rie giggles. “For daddy?” She blows raspberries at him, splattering carrots onto his face. He smiles. He can’t remember when he last laughed. Rie laughs with him, almost jumping out of her seat. “Ah, ah, ah.” Togame smoothes her hair back. With a last attempt, he wiggles his arm around, doing something he’s seen in movies. “Here comes the airplane~” he coos and it works, she opens her mouth up and licks the puree up. Togame bellows out a laugh, slapping his thigh at how comical the scene was. He looks around to see if you’re laughing too. 

But you’re not here. 

Rie sleeps in her crib, all cleaned up and dozing the night away. Togame stands over her, watching her chest rise and fall. He doesn’t know how to prepare her for life, how to teach her things her mother would be there for, he doesn’t know what to do. He’s anxious and backed into a corner, it’s daunting. Can he do it without you? If he kept you longer, pulled you down to tickle you, and if that driver didn’t drink– you were his anchor and how he’s drifting around in the waters, being dragged out by the riptide. He cried that night, alone on the couch. 

The bank website shows how low his balance is, he doesn’t have any current source of income. His legs shake as he checks the accounts, there’s still a hefty sum in the savings, and there’s Rie’s college fund. He can use the joint savings for the bills, but when it’s used up, what will he do? The house was mid-sized with three bedrooms and two bathrooms. It was manageable with a stable income from him and your remote job, but now there’s none of that. All of his time is spent on Rie, she’s not yet one. He can’t give up the house– it was your dream. You’re still all around– he hasn’t entered the bedroom in months, and your things are right where you left them. 

“You’re thinking pretty hard.” Sakura peeps at the laptop, “What’re you lookin’ at?” 

“Bills.” Togame scratches his head. Sakura and Kotoha had come by this evening. 

“Is it bad?” Sakura asks and gulps. 

“It’s not bad yet, but it will be.” 

“If money’s a problem, I can chip in,” Kotoha speaks up. “It’s the right thing to do.” 

“Me too.” Sakura chimes in. 

“You guys are already helping enough…” 

“Listen, do you see your situation? You’re not in any position to deny help.” Kotoha squints her eyes at him while stroking Rie’s back. He can’t say anything else back, “Thank you.” 

Sakura coughs, “So, why’d you ask for boxes?” 

“I just wanna organize her stuff. I– I haven’t been in our bedroom in a while, because I’m scared. I’m scared of moving her things– packing her away. It feels like I’m removing her presence…but at the meeting, they said I would need to do it eventually. I know I’m putting it off– but, but…it just sucks.” Togame takes a deep breath. “I don’t want to face it– face that she’s gone, even her office– I can’t bring myself to open the door. Because it feels like she’s on the other side, sitting in her chair. I don’t want to open it and not find her there.” He spills himself out. “This is her home too.”

They fall silent, lips shut tight. “We’ll help you,” Sakura spoke, his voice was wobbly. “I’ll stay the night. I don’t have anything tomorrow.” Togame nods appreciating the younger man’s support. Kotoha holds Rie tighter. 

The first thing they tackle is the bedroom. The sheets are stripped, leaving the mattress bare, and the socks you left on the carpet are thrown into the laundry bin. There’s a large box on the dresser, the one he received from the funeral service provider as the next of kin. Inside contains all the things you had on you at the time of death. Kotoha is sorting things out in the bathroom next door, sorting your cosmetics and trinkets. With shaky hands, he opens it for the first time. Your bag, jewelry, and shoes are all in this one box. The clothes are gone, they were too soaked in blood to be returned. He holds the shoes in his hands and places them on the floor. There are little brown spots on it. The next item is a plastic bag, containing your earrings, bracelets, and your ring. The one he gave you. He sniffles. In your bag, he finds your phone, lip balm, hairbrush, compact mirror, wallet, and a Polaroid. A photo of your family; you, him, and Rie. His lungs shake. Your phone is now in his hands, there’s still some battery left in it since it lights up. He unlocks it, and the first thing he sees is a direct message log. It’s to him, there’s something in the text bar: I’ll be home soon, love you. 

Togame breaks down, he transforms into a puddle on the floor. Sakura and Kotoha find him pressing the phone to his forehead as he sobs. He passes away, unable to endure. 

They stop there for the day. The next morning, they work the kitchen out. The mixer you hadn’t yet touched gets placed into the to-sell box. The juicer is kept, he can’t part with it and he plans on using it. Togame’s body moves without thought, his brain is too tired to keep up, but if he rests, he’s uneasy and something gnaws at him from the inside. Next, the office. 

The door handle sticks dust to his hand when he pushes it down. The curtains are still open, the chair is pushed in, and you’re not anywhere to be found. Spiderwebs are nestled in every nook and cranny, a layer of dust settled over the desk, and your mug has coffee stains in it. He holds the ceramic in his hands, “I want to keep this room as is– I think I’m going to use it as my office.” Kotoha and Sakura nod, so instead, they tidy the room up. 

Sakura surveys the shelves, photo frames are lined up, and your degree is placed in the middle. He feels like he is intruding into your personal space. It’s now an empty room, but it was once bursting with life. A red box catches his eye, it’s placed on the very top, and he stands on his tippy-toes to reach it. It’s in his hands, he pulls the top off, and inside contains letters. Sakura doesn’t read them, but he senses they are important. He places the top back on, “Where should I put this?” 

Togame turns around, “Hmm? What’s that?” He takes the container from Sakura and peeks inside. He knows what it is. The paper sides of the box dents under his tight grip. 

That night, he dreams about you. He returns to that cramped attic, he returns next to you. Your eyes shine– so full of energy, it’s a lovely portrait. Togame can’t hear what you are saying, he doesn’t remember what you were talking about. Ah, that’s right, this is when he asked you out. He so desperately wants to reach out and touch you again, feel your skin against his, kiss your soft lips, hold your warm hands, but he can't because his body doesn’t move. So, he tries to talk to you. 

“I love you, please– please. You must’ve been in pain. I’m sorry I couldn't be there, I’m sorry I didn’t save you, I’m sorry I didn’t text you back, I’m sorry I didn’t hold you back that day. It was scary, wasn’t it? I let you die alone. I’m so, so sorry.” You remain stoic, smiling at him. “Rie’s gotten bigger, she’s eating actual baby food now. I think she’s going to walk soon. It’s almost her first birthday. She resembles you more and more by the day. I miss you. I miss you so much I want to die. Aren’t you going to yell at me for saying that?” Maybe because it’s a dream that his words come out smoothly. Your mouth moves, but he can’t hear anything. You laugh. If you’re happy in this silly dream, does that count? 

A week later he witnesses Rie’s first steps, her first words, and he grieves you at the same time. 

“Come here, Rie. Come to papa.” Togame holds his arms out, she wobbles like a fawn. Puffing her cheeks out, she pushes herself back up to her feet and puts one foot down. She takes four steps and collapses into her father’s arms. Togame picks her up and spins around, Rie shrieks with laughter, throwing her head back. He kisses her forehead, “You did so well sweetheart.” Her eyes squeeze shut before popping open, “Mnnn, mph…” She tries so hard to talk, to use her voice, to communicate. “Po–Pa, Papa!” 

Backpacks are lined out on the displays. Small and box-shaped. Togame had no idea sending a child to school would be so much work. Indoor shoes, uniforms, hand towels, stationary, and the list goes on. Rie is six and is set to enter elementary school in April. She’s her own person and walks with an openness and willingness for joy. It’s a major turning point in her life as she sets out on her academic pursuit. With the community chipping in, the house stayed, and with Rie going to school, Togame decided to do job searching again. He can’t keep depending on everyone else, he gets a visceral urge to continue standing on his own two feet without support. Umemiya and his wife offered to watch over Rie for the afternoons since their kids are also going to the same school. It’s a good idea because Togame no longer feels the fear that she’ll disappear when she’s out of his sight— because he trusts Umemiya. 

With no high school diploma, traditional job hunting wouldn’t work out for him. So, he called up his old coworkers and luckily, one of them said they could introduce him to someone who was hiring. Togame could sense that he wanted to say something, but held back. A few days later, Togame went and met the restaurant owner, with his decent experience and knowledge of the kitchen, he was hired to work late mornings to late afternoons. He could pick up Rie on the way home after she played with the Umemiyas for a few hours. 

It’s midnight and he misses you. He still keeps to his side of the bed, staring at the empty place. Togame stares up at the ceiling, he wants to say he’s come to terms with your passing, but sometimes he’s not okay. Somedays he wants to curl up under the blanket and disappear from the world. The bedroom door creaks open, “Dad…?” 

He sits up, “Rie? What is it?” 

“Can…Can I sleep with you?” 

“Sure– yeah, come here.” Togame pats your side of the bed. She slowly closes the door behind her and creeps over to the mattress. Rie slides under the sheets and lays her head against the pillow. “Are you alright?” Togame pulls the blanket over her and she nods. Her lip gets caught between her teeth as she fiddles with her fingers. 

“Um, dad?” 

“Yes?” 

“Can I ask you something?” 

“What is it?” 

“Do you hate mom?” 

Togame’s eyes widen, out of everything he was not expecting his daughter to ask him that. He swallows saliva down, wetting his throat, “What makes you say that?” 

“At school, Kosaka– I heard him say that his dad hates his mom because she left him. Do you hate Mom because she left us?” Her voice is barely above a whisper. 

“I would never hate Mom…I love her just as much as I love you.” 

He loved you and you left him. 

“What was Mom like? Fukasawa was telling everyone about her mom’s new book– I don’t anything about my mom. Did she write books too?” 

“Mom didn’t write books, but she read to you a lot…she read to you day and night. She was wondrous, you take after her in that. Mom’s still reading to you.” He lightly taps her chest, right above her heart, “She’s reading to you in here.” Rie smiles. 

“I want to meet Mom. Dad, do you miss Mom?” 

“I do, I miss her a lot. But since you’re here, she’s also here with me.” 

“If Mom was here…do you think we’d be happy like the Umemiyas?” 

It’s not strange for children to compare themselves to others. Pit their situation against their peers. He’s attended countless meetings, read through hundreds of blogs, and spent years trying to find the right way to tell his daughter that her mother was no longer here. 

“Are you unhappy?” 

Rie shakes her head, “I’m happy– I have you, I have Dad don’t I?” 

“And I have you.” Togame pats the blanket on top of her. 

It’s Rie’s eighth birthday, she’s practically bouncing while waiting in line. Togame purchased train tickets to the aquarium. He took the weekend off to celebrate with her, it's currently the day before her birth. The worker scans his barcodes and they head inside. Rie pulls the map wide open, reading all the exhibits. “Where do you want to go first?” 

“I wanna see the rays! Dad! Can we?” She beams a wide smile, one front tooth is missing. 

“Sure, let’s go, but stay by my side, okay?” 

“Okay!” 

Rie loves manta rays, the face she makes is exactly like the one you made all those years ago. She presses her palms against the large pane of glass, staring up at all the fish with her mouth agape. “What’s that one?” Togame’s eyes follow where she’s pointing, a flat fish. “Let me check,” he pulls his phone out to search for what animal it was. An angelfish. Rie doesn’t listen when he tells her though, too excited about moving to the next tank. He carries a tote bag and the lunch inside weighs his shoulder down. 

“Kame! One more!” Choji raises his hand at the counter. 

“Are you alright?” Sakura pokes at the green onion in his ramen while talking. 

“About?” 

His friends frequent the restaurant he works at and the owner doesn’t mind since it's more business and money. Choji and Sakura frequent the most after their jobs since they have nothing better to do. Sometimes Umemiya and the four old Bofurin kings swing by. Sometimes Kotoha pops in with Rie. Sometimes that eyepatch and freckles come with Sakura. Sometimes Sako, Arima, Kanuma, and Inugami have a meet-up. 

“The anniversary is coming up.” 

“Ah, right… Kame, will you be okay?” Choji frowns. 

“Yeah, I’ll be alright.” Togame places another gyoza plate in front of his old leader. 

Even now they worry about him. Reflecting back, he was a mess for the first couple of years. He was angry, consumed in a fit of rage at the loss of his best friend, lover, and wife. That anger is now long gone and what he feels is much softer. Sakura moves on and talks about what his current worries are and Choji pokes fun at him even though he’s also in the same situation. It felt exactly like when they all ate together during after-school hours. They all took different paths, but are all together again. The three men were steadily living life, day after day. Going where the wind takes them. 

Togame and Rie stand in front of the gravesite, where the last remaining pieces of you rest. Your body is long gone. The truth is, you still plague his mind. Because he loved you with his everything, you wholly possess his body every moment. The sun would burn out and collapse before he forgets about you, he’ll remember you longer than the time he knew you. He’ll keep finding you everywhere he goes. The sea salt he uses reminds him of the beach and the bookstores smell like you. Rie looks up at him, “Should we go home now?” She nods and a solemn expression is on her face. Rie doesn’t remember you, but she feels an intense longing for her mother. Togame wraps his arms around her, she’s exactly like you, Rie cries in his arms, soaking his shirt. Among the rows of graves, two souls glow together. 

The world is no longer scary. 

He buys a card at a convenience store.

He writes another letter to no recipient: 

To my darling, 

Happy 46th Birthday. Rie’s in high school now– our baby is now a high schooler. I miss you a lot today. Do you miss me too? I found the candle you love at a store, it’s burning right now. The room smells like you. I want to sit with you again. I want to fold your clothes for you again. You know that cardigan you wore a lot? Rie likes it, so she wears it. It fits her perfectly just like how you wore it. Rie likes peach juice, she uses that juicer you use, and sometimes she makes me some. When we meet again will you praise me? Can you tell me I did a good job with your sweet voice again? I want to hear you speak again. I can’t hear you in my dreams anymore. Do you still love me? I love you. It was an honor to love you and be your husband.

– Your husband, Togame Jo

a/n: I cut it short because I didn’t want to keep writing :P

camp stillwater is for lovers | ONE-SHOT

camp stillwater had a bit of a reputation, but it was nothing you hadn't prepared for. or so you thought.

❀ content: eren jaeger x female reader, camp counselor au, smutty and sappy end-of-summer fic, mutual pining, outdoor and semi-public sex, oral sex (m! and f!receiving), 'pretty' used as a pet name, skinny dipping, mentions of alcohol, explicit language, explicit sexual content. reader discretion advised 18+ ❀ word count: ~18k sit down, buckle up, and get yourself a nice beverage ❀ a/n: i actually started writing this over a year ago and happened to stumble upon it again and figured they deserved their happy ending <3

“Dude!”

Eren didn’t register how many ‘dudes!’ it took to get his attention before a sharp elbow jutted into his forearm. His hand slipped out from beneath his jaw, and he would have taken a face full of mashed potatoes if he hadn’t kept the crumb of awareness needed to catch himself first. 

He glared down at the culprit: Falco Grice.

Yes, that was his legal name. Eren checked the records last summer.

Falco, one of Eren’s seven assigned campers, sat by his side at the round table, like always.

“Stop staring. You’re starting to creep me out,” Falco muttered as he set down his fork. Eren could hardly hear him over the drone of background conversation, but there was no mistaking his teenage attitude. That part came through loud and clear. 

“I wasn’t staring. I was—” Eren interrupted himself with a sigh, realizing there was no use in lying.

“We’ve been here for two weeks, and I haven’t seen you talk to her once,” Falco pointed out.

“I talk to her! We talk about,” Eren paused, stuttering over his thoughts. “Things.”

Falco looked amused, his eyebrows sprung high on his forehead. “Oh yeah? Things. That sounds real interesting.”

Eren didn’t sound all that convincing right then, but it was the truth, believe it or not. But even he could admit Falco had a point: summer camp was halfway over, and Eren remained too big of a coward to do anything about his. . . feelings for you. He didn’t know what to call them yet. Falco named it a crush, but that felt too childish to Eren, like he was back in grade school alongside the rest of them, rather than the college-age student he was.

If it wasn’t clear enough already, the duo were talking about you.

Eren never asked for Falco’s ‘advice’ about you. He hoped this went without saying, but he would never take the advice of a thirteen-year-old about this sort of thing. Falco approached him first, like Eren’s love life was such a train wreck that he could no longer sit idle on the sidelines. Apparently, Eren was just that terrible with girls. 

Which was so not true, by the way. Eren did just fine, he liked to think. It had just been a while.

“I could fake drown,” Falco offered as casually as he would ask about the weather. “You know, like when you’re on lifeguard duty. You’d be a hero.”

That just might—

“Please don’t do that,” Eren said before he could go against his better judgment. But that didn’t stop Falco from hamming it up. He draped a hand over his forehead like a damsel in distress, with smooching sounds and everything.

Optically, Eren knew it wasn’t the best idea to flick a camper on his forehead, but he did so anyway. Falco barked, “Ow!” before it melted into a burst of victorious laughter.

Eren carried his emptied (sans the gritty mashed potatoes) plate in one hand and pointed to Falco’s untouched dinner with his other. “Hurry it up, would ya? We’re supposed to head back to the cabin in ten minutes.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Falco grunted before poking around his plate.

To say Eren had a brotherly relationship with his campers would be a stretch, but Falco happened to be the exception—not by Eren’s choice, as he already established.

Falco was a returning camper from last year, meaning he (or perhaps just his parents) chose to dedicate four weeks out of his summer break to sleepaway camp, with Eren as his cabin leader again.

To Eren, the bigger surprise was that he even returned as counselor at Camp Stillwater in the first place. What he initially believed would be a blow-off gig to earn college credit actually turned out to be not so bad, considering he could spend the summer with his two best friends. Sure, Mikasa couldn’t be here this year, what with her change in program and new internship, but Armin made it. And let’s just say that after Eren discovered who filled Mikasa’s position, he forgot about her absence altogether.

It was quite the coveted position, too. For decades now, Camp Stillwater had an infamous reputation back at school for being—well, a fuck-fest. More like a fuck-off fest, if you asked Eren, since it was easy to get away with anything here.

This was only his second year here, but outside of various rumors and a handful of ‘incidents,’ Eren could confidently say the camp wasn’t nearly as horny as the stories made it sound. Then again, he didn’t get involved in those activities last year; he had a girlfriend at home. 

A now ex-girlfriend. 

No need for theatrics about it: the break-up was mutual, overdue, and old news. But if Eren still needed confirmation that he was over his ex, then you were just that.

For the first time since the break-up—maybe even before the break-up—Eren felt something again. Passion, a spark, a stupid crush. Call it what you wanted, but whatever it was, he felt it; this strange, enigmatic thing attracting him to you.

He loved it, this revived sense of infatuation that he hadn’t felt in so long, as much as he absolutely loathed it. 

Eren weaved between tables toward the dish return to find you there first. He recognized you from the back of your head alone—which wasn’t saying much since you were one of the handful of adults in the dining hall. He stalled, weighing his options, hating himself for letting Falco’s words creep under his skin. Why did he feel he had something to prove to a kid?

Before he decided what to do, you acted first, glancing over your shoulder and flickering a smile. You waited until he was another step closer before greeting, “Hi, Eren.”

Restless hands he would typically shove into his pockets busied themselves by reaching for your plate. “Let me get that for you,” Eren said, and those six measly words felt like the greatest challenge he faced all day. Even greater than the screaming girl he had to help down from the rock-climbing wall this morning. 

On your, “Thanks,” your lips parted into a warm smile, and any confidence Eren thought he had began floundering—much like that girl from earlier.

With that, the conversation died, and you went on with your evening.

To Eren, it was still a win. Albeit a small win, but still one for the books. He wanted to prove—not to anyone but himself, he’d decided—that the two of you talked sometimes. And he accomplished just that.

What the hell did Falco know, anyway?

“I saw you talking to Eren in the mess hall tonight,” Hitch said, both too knowingly and too loudly. She blathered on over the roar of her hair dryer. When you tried to tell her you couldn’t hear her, she only shouted, “Huh?”

You weren’t exactly friends, perhaps a smidgen past acquaintances, so you couldn’t predict if she’d see the humor in you unplugging her blow dryer.

Hitch was one of the four female camp counselors here—the others being Sasha, Annie, and yourself. She was the leader of your so-called ‘sister cabin,’ meaning you had the same activity schedules. For better or worse, you spent a lot of time together.

This also meant you couldn’t head back for lights out until she was ready—the buddy system and all that.

You sat patiently on the countertop beside her, watching your feet dangle, catching your shower shoes just before they could slip off your toes. Once that became boring, you began drawing on the mirror’s condensation with your fingers.

As she began wrapping the cord around the hair dryer to pack up, you explained, “I was just saying ‘hi.’”

There wasn’t anything more to it, nothing juicy like she’d hoped for. But juicy or not, you still quieted down when you heard padding feet round the corner shower, just in case. Only after Sasha poked her head out did you return to doodling on the mirror. You finished the last swoop of a smiley face as you said, “I don’t think that counts as talking.” 

Hitched shrugged, making way for Sasha to squeal, “Are you guys talking about Eren?”

Hitch stared the both of you down. In one breath, she confirmed Sasha’s hunch and tried (again) to pry the nonexistent details from you. “He cleared your plate for you. I think that counts as something.”

It unnerved you to know that she—no, she and Sasha had been watching so closely.

You folded your arms tightly against your chest as if to shut her out. “Are you always this nosy?”

She scoffed as Sasha blurted out, “He totally has a thing for you!”

You stiffened. You wished you didn’t, but it happened, and it was so palpable that both girls now eyed you like a pack of hyenas, eager for their next kill. You didn’t know what to say, only that you needed to shut it down.

“He’s just being nice,” you said. But on the inside, you were reeling.

There was no denying that you found Eren attractive. You’d thought so since the moment the camp director, Levi, introduced you to the bunch. He stood on the taller side, at least six feet, by your estimation. Lean but all muscle. With furiously green eyes nestled beneath dark brows, both often hidden behind grown-out hair he constantly pushed back, unless he’d tied it up. 

You’d never considered it seriously before, but to think he might have ‘a thing’ for you, as Sasha put it—let’s just say it changed your perspective on the matter. 

Sasha groaned like you’d caused her physical pain. “Puh-lease tell me you aren’t that stupid.”

“You should just hook up with him. I let Jean finger me behind a cabin last summer,” Hitch said, still as loud as ever. You must have had a visceral reaction—pulled a strange face or widened your eyes until she could see the whites—because she waved you off with, “S’no biggie.”

“She’s right,” Sasha agreed, leaning into you. Her brunette ponytail bounced along with her. “Or, who knows? Maybe you’ll end up like Annie and Armin.”

You didn’t know the pair very well—the least of the lot. They were the cute blonde couple that apparently met last summer and have been inseparable ever since. The only thing you knew for sure was that Armin was far, far more approachable than Annie. He held a native aquatic life program last week down by the lake that you thoroughly enjoyed.

“A little summer fling never hurt anyone,” Hitch sang.

You wanted to tell her she was wrong. They actually made an entire musical dedicated to the many woes of Summer Lovin’. But you ignored her and smeared away the fingerprints you’d left on the mirror. 

You had only known these girls for two weeks, and you had already concluded they were, for lack of a better term, boy crazy. Giggling, batting their lashes, face-sucking-and-fucking boy crazy.

But that didn’t mean you minded it. 

Maybe you would even go as far as to say their insistent lusting managed to stir your own. You were only human, after all. You could only listen to their stories for so long before dreaming up fantasies of your own. Some of which may or may not involve getting railed while away at summer camp. 

You’d keep that bit to yourself, of course. But the thoughts—the feelings, the urges, all brewing hot in your core—were hard to suppress. You’d become increasingly aware of them as the days trickled by, with Hitch’s tune stuck on a loop in the forefront of your mind. A little summer fling never hurt anyone, as fresh as the night she said it, on repeat until it practically drove you up a pine tree. 

So while the others might have thought it odd for you to volunteer to pair with Eren’s cabin for the morning hike, to you, it felt like a necessary first step. You just wished Sasha and Hitch hadn’t made the connection, gawking at you with grins too large for your liking.

The purpose of today’s hike was for the campers to test their knowledge of the ancient practice known as navigating via compass and map. The first group to follow directions correctly would find hidden treasure—though no one had informed you of what the ‘treasure’ was, so you were as curious as the rest. 

All that was to say, your only job was ensuring no one gravely injured themselves between now and the intercom call for lunch. Easy enough.

You walked slowly, purposefully dragging your heels in the dirt, and just like you hoped, Eren hung back with you. You stayed quiet, watching and waiting from a few steps behind until there was enough distance between you and the rest of the group. You couldn’t imagine anything more humiliating than a bunch of middle schoolers overhearing this—your awful, shameless attempt at flirting. Even worse if it ended in a rejection. 

Eren rolled his shoulders in a stretch, and you unabashedly stared at the way the sunrise cast shadows against the flexed veins of his arms.

A small but nagging part of you couldn’t help but wonder if it was too early for this conversation. The birds were chirping, there was still pretty morning dew on the grass, and you were about to ask if this man wanted to fuck you later. There was no way in hell you could go through with this. 

Then you remembered Jean fingered Hitch behind a cabin, and you supposed you just had to take advantage of the opportunities as they arose. 

“Hey, Eren!” you called. 

He stopped, turned, and greeted you with a lop-sided smile. You picked up your pace and Eren fell right into stride.

The path you walked was unkempt, just as nature intended. You mazed through patches of weeds and overgrown roots, around loose stones so you didn’t twist an ankle. Though thinking about it now, it might not be the worst idea. Eren was the only one around to help you. . . 

“I hope you don’t mind being paired up with me,” you said.

“No, not at all,” Eren assured, but it more closely resembled an apology, like he was trying to recall if he’d done something to suggest otherwise. "You surprised me, though. That's for sure."

“Really? How come?” you asked, no longer looking at him sidelong but with eyes boring straight into his. At least, that was what it felt like to Eren. And when you coupled it with your adorable head tilt, he quickly fell apart. 

He jerked his attention down to the path, laser-focusing on one rock in particular, kicking it along with him. “I guess I figured you’d go with Hitch or Sasha.”

“As much as I like them, I’d prefer not to get myself lost in the woods today.” 

Off in the distance (southeast, according to your compass), a shriek echoed through the trees. Your ears perked, but the howls of laughter that followed eased any worry. You began walking together again, picking right up from where you left off. 

“I thought I might actually try to learn something from this trip,” you half-truthed, like reading a compass was the hardest task in the world, and you hadn’t just done it. 

Here’s the thing: you wanted to have a takeaway from summer camp—to learn from him, in a more roundabout sense of the word. You just preferred a more private lesson.

Not so incidentally, you brushed your hand against the back of Eren’s as you hummed, “And you seem like the kind of guy who knows what he’s doing.”

Your voice tried for light and bubbly and succeeded, but the insinuation was a heavy-handed smack to Eren’s face. Were you flirting with him?

He didn’t have the time to answer his own question before you added, “Like, about the forest and stuff. You worked here last summer, right?”

What was he thinking? Of course you weren’t flirting with him.

The whole situation gave him pause. He collected himself to reply only for a soft mhm to come out. Nothing about it was light or bubbly. 

You nodded despite there being nothing to agree on. For a moment, you let the silence between you fizzle. It wasn’t awkward, though; it was thoughtful. Intentional. With each passing second, anticipation wound itself into a tight coil, ready and rearing and hot to spring. And this time, when you bumped your hand against Eren’s, it acted much like a match to sandpaper, trying to draw a spark. 

“You know,” you drawled, “I’d love to hear more about it sometime—get to know each other more.” 

So you were flirting. Eren didn’t have any doubt about it now, even as he struggled to keep up. He felt like he’d been strapped to the world’s worst carnival ride, spun round and round until his head was so dizzy he couldn’t form even the simplest of sentences. Sure. Okay. Sounds good. Even a fucking thumbs up. Everything evaded him.

Luckily for Eren, you did just fine at carrying on the conversation (if this could even be classified as one) on your own. 

“Sasha’s hosting her archery program this afternoon.” There was an unspoken allure to your voice. It made Eren burn from the inside out. “That gives us a free hour after lunch, if you want to hang out in my cabin.”

He hoped to god there wasn’t a flush to his cheeks. 

“Unless you’re busy. . .”

“No, no,” Eren rushed to say. He cleared his throat. “I mean, no, I’m not busy. And yes, I can be there. If that’s what you want.”

You smiled. “If that wasn’t what I wanted, then I wouldn’t have asked, silly.”

Before Eren could think of what to say back, a camper dashed out of the thicket of trees and straight to you, screaming about boys putting cicada shells in her hair.

It was probably best that he couldn’t get a word in, Eren thought, because he had the feeling it wouldn’t have been particularly witty or clever. So he just watched as you hurried to the girl’s aid, left completely baffled by what the hell just happened.

You heard footsteps on the other side of the door. Right on time. Five minutes past the hour, after the campers had already started their trek to archery. Your body responded before your heart could catch up, leaving you light-headed after you sprung for the door.

Blame it on the lack of blood reaching your brain, but you clearly weren’t thinking when you swung the door open. Eren hadn’t knocked yet. He was just about to, with his hand hung frozen mid-air, and it reminded you how you hadn’t given him the chance.

You laughed a little, said, “Hey,” at the same time Eren did, then could only laugh more because what else were you supposed to do?

The door shut behind him, and the heavy sound reverberated through the cabin. The air was taut, practically buzzing with what you could only describe as electricity. Every ba-dum of your racing heart pounded higher in your chest until you could feel it in your ears.

Eren ran a hand through his hair and scratched at the back of his head. His gaze shifted around the cabin tentatively, from the girlish bunks decorated in plushies to the curtains you'd pulled shut minutes ago. Then, finally, his eyes landed on you. 

His lips pulled into a sheepish smile as he asked, “You didn’t ask me to come because you were actually hoping to hear about my time last year, did you?” 

Your laugh was authentic this time. The kind that surprised even you. It tugged at the tension, unraveling the knot you’d let form in your stomach while waiting on Eren.

You’d wondered which option was the most anxiety-inducing: if he did or didn’t show up. But now, standing here on knees that felt more wobbly than you preferred, as he looked at you with a smile your laughter brought about, you were so relieved he was here. 

“As riveting as I’m sure your experience was. . .” You moved toward him, through the air that didn’t feel quite as thick anymore. “No, I wasn’t actually hoping to hear about your time at camp last year.”

While you spoke, you traced up his palm, the inside of his wrists. Along the length of his arm until you could flatten it against his chest, watching how his throat pulsed in response. 

You couldn't think of a time you fooled around in a bunk bed before. A twin bed, plenty of times, but never with another looming inches above your head. This had to be a first, you thought, as you led him to your bed. Eren sat first, drew you into him, and you had to duck before straddling his lap. 

Already, you felt a tingle. It ignited in the lowest part of you and radiated from the tips of your fingers down to your toes. Every fiber of your being had been set ablaze, and he’d hardly touched you yet; he hadn’t even kissed you. 

Right then, you realized how much you’d been thinking about him—like really thinking about him. That the hazy, featureless man you’d imagined fucking against a slippery shower wall had a face, and maybe he had all along. You knew you’d been craving this, but you had no idea as to how desperately your body needed him.

You truly were no better than those other boy crazy girls, were you?

Despite your positioning—his hands on your waist, yours on his shoulders, with your crotch hovering just above his—you kept your mouths apart. You touched everywhere except there, where it counted, with mere centimeters separating you. You watched his eyes scan over your face, studying an expression you couldn’t begin to guess, and it sent a blooming heat through the back of your neck. 

The two of you stayed like that for longer than you should have for only having an hour, even less, to yourselves. Each of you, waiting for the other person to make the first move. Sharing shallow breaths under the crushing weight of wanting, yet fearing you were the one who interpreted this whole situation wrong. As if both of you didn’t very clearly meet here with just one thing on your minds. 

“You’ve—” Eren’s voice sounded lost in his throat. He wrangled it back before continuing, “You’ve done this before, yeah?” 

You didn’t know what this referred to specifically, but you could infer. 

“Yeah,” you replied, tipping your mouth to his. Closer, but still shy of touching. 

Just your one-word answer eased some of Eren’s hesitancy. Sure, he came to Camp Stillwater knowing what happened behind locked doors, even (regretfully) witnessed some of the stories you’d probably heard, but this felt fast. If someone were to ask him how he wound up here with you, like this, he wouldn’t be able to explain it. 

Not that he was complaining. But he needed to know that you knew what you were getting yourself into. 

You sensed he was waiting on you. For you to give the go-ahead. The green light for him to continue his exploring. You didn’t think he’d make the first move without it. 

Your fingers absently toyed with the collar of his t-shirt while you told him, “I want you to kiss me.”

Eren felt each word as they broke over his lips. He could have sworn he tasted them, too. Sweet and warm, with the faintest chill of mint. He safely assumed you must have come straight from lunch to brush your teeth, anticipating him.

The thought alone, shamefully, did something to him. Because here you were, plopped into his lap, looking so pretty that he was already hard, asking for the very thing he’d been fantasizing about over the last two weeks.

Okay, maybe Eren had fantasized about more—a lot more. But right now, you were goddamn perfect. He could only think about how lucky he felt for this. Just this. Even if it never became anything more than this.

The feeling swelled in his chest the longer you looked at him, biting your lip, waiting. But even after you’d been plenty patient, Eren didn’t kiss you. He didn’t even try to. He just looked and looked at you, while you puzzled over what he could possibly be thinking about. You noticed a glint in his irises, as quick as a flash of lightning. There and gone, almost like you’d imagined it if not for the smirk hinting at one corner of his mouth. 

“If you want something.” Eren leaned back. His palms pressed into the mattress behind him, and the springs trilled under the shift in weight. He sat back enough for him to uncomfortably fit below the top bunk. “You should take it.”

Your stomach flip-flopped. The same feeling you get on a rollercoaster, but better. You took his challenge and chased after him. He guided you in with a hand on your back, swirling small encouraging circles against the dip in it.

Eren didn’t mind sitting passenger to you. In fact, he preferred it. He was happy to give into you, let you drive, so long as you brought him along for the ride—wherever it took him.

You perched higher onto your knees, moving with him like there was a string connecting you, with a sort of magnetism, until you were face-to-face, then lips-to-lips. 

A blink-and-you-miss-it pause passed as you learned the feeling of his lips against yours. They were soft; he was soft. As you sank your lips into his, his hand on your side tightened, giving you a squeeze that sent a surge of electricity up your thighs.

He matched you every step of the way, only deepening the kiss after you initiated. Not letting his tongue slip into your mouth until you’d coaxed it out of him with your own. The kiss was slow but deliberate. Attentive, yet you could feel his eagerness in the slight tremble to his fingers, pushing beneath your shirt and trailing along your spine. 

You returned to his lap, settling in to feel him hard beneath you, pressing between your legs. As you ground down onto him, a loan groan bubbled from his throat.

Eren felt his cock twitch in need, straining behind layers of boxer briefs and cargo shorts. It was a true test of willpower for him, but what little composure he pretended to have slipped through his fingers. His hips lifted from the bed, bucking to meet yours as you rocked back and forth. 

The kiss became more desperate then. Much more desperate. With his hands flattened against your back, keeping your bodies melded together, and your fingers tangled and twisted in his hair. You felt every groove and point of his teeth as he drew your bottom lip between them. It pulled a gasp from you that rang in his ears like a reward. He tried to encourage another, stealing a nip at your swollen lip. 

You grabbed a fistful of his shirt, nails scratching at the cheap camp logo printed on the front. You wanted it off. You tugged at the fabric until he got the hint. He yanked it over his head in one quick movement before bringing his lips back to you.

Eren’s mouth dragged hot breath from your jaw to your ear. His voice was husky, almost a whisper, when he asked you, “This okay?”

He punctuated with a warm hand slipping around your front, exceedingly close to the underwire of your bra. On your nod, he ventured higher, with his thumb scraping against the cup, bending it back. He pressed hot, open-mouthed kisses along the side of your neck, rolling your nipple between his fingers until you whined against his ear. 

Eren took you by the shoulders, putting an arm’s length between you so he could remove your shirt. You felt more like a rag-doll than human, flopped around with your head lagging on a second’s delay. You blinked the spins away, outstretching your arms so he could toss your shirt over your head and into the accumulating pile on the floor. 

Your gaze dropped to Eren’s face, cupped between your hands, cheeks warm and alive beneath your palms. You both breathed hard, uneven breaths, chests heaving like you’d just finished a marathon—his sporting a telling flush that matched the one spanning the bridge of his nose and complementing his eyes. 

You gently traced your finger over his lips, still wetted from your kiss, and you felt the moment they pulled into a smile, replicating the one spreading across your face. All you could think about—all you wanted to do was kiss him again. 

You folded over top of him, doing exactly as you wanted, kissing him wherever you pleased. You could smell the summer on his skin, taste it as you kissed and licked and sucked your way from the tip of his jaw down his chest. You were conscious about not leaving marks, or at least you thought you were. Faint hickeys bloomed every time you just couldn’t help yourself, when you would discover a spot—one behind his ear, another in the dip of his collarbone—that made his breath stutter heavily in his throat.

The hand he had on your ass gripped harder, bearing you down on him. You slithered a hand between you, smoothing over his tight stomach, and reached to undo the button of his shorts, then the zipper next. 

You laid against his chest, still kissing at his neck as you palmed his cock through his boxers. Eren groaned, low and breathless, as you felt him throb against your hand. When he released his grip on you, you expected him to tear his shorts off entirely. But he had you flipped onto your back instead, so quickly that you yelped as your back hit the mattress. 

Eren leaned over you, a lazy grin painted on his face, as he slipped your shorts down your legs. He ran a hand through his hair, catching the strays that fell into his face so he could get a better view of you. He kept your panties on and in place, dipping a daring finger below the band and running it along your belly. It tickled. Your hips wiggled in response, and his grin only grew. 

He thumbed over the damp spot on your underwear, feeling your clit just beneath the fabric. Just a tad more pressure elicited a moan from you, and your head lurched from the bed. You sat back on your forearms, watching him rub away the tension that had amassed between you, alleviating the aching of your insides and melting it into headless pleasure. 

You darted a hand to touch him too, asking, “Did you bring a condom?” 

“Shit.” Eren’s head dropped, hair falling back into its rightfully messy place. “No.”

He had a million other things on his mind. Of course, he’d forget the condom.

Now that you mentioned it, he didn’t even bring condoms to camp. But he was sure Jean or Connie had some. Eren would worry about how to ask for them later, but for now, he promised, “I can get one for next time.”

You angled your head in that cute way you often did. “Next time?” 

Eren’s face paled. Out of the goodness of your heart, you only let him stammer for a second before cutting him off with a laugh. “Next time sounds good.” Relief washed over him in an instant, his thumb resuming its circling. You sighed, nestling into the sheets. “I guess this is pretty nice.”

He gave you that lop-sided smile again, and it made your heart somersault. He tipped his chin closer into you. “Yeah?” 

Eren’s lips had barely brushed yours when there was a knock at the door. The loud sound of a persistent little fist. With a startle, you sprang away from him and slammed your head on the top bunk. 

“Fuck!” you cursed way too loudly. 

At the thunk alone, Eren winced like he’d done it himself and reached for you. “Are you—”

“Yeah,” you hissed in pain. You swatted his hand, then immediately regretted it. “Sorry. I’m just—I’m fine.” 

He didn’t believe you, but couldn’t do anything about it because there was another set of knocks. Whoever was on the other side called your name, asking, “Are you in there? Why is the door locked?” 

Muttering a chant of curses—shit, shit, shit!—you clumsily pulled your shorts back up, nearly tumbling off the bed as you went. Ignoring the pounding in the crown of your head, you scrambled to put on your shirt as you called out, “Just a second!”

You mouthed, “Hide!” to Eren and waved for him to duck under the blankets. It didn’t solve much, he was still very much there, but it was better than nothing.

You skittered to the door, unfastened the rusted lock, and opened it just wide enough for you to squeeze through the gap. Gabi stood before you, hands on her hips, as you shut the door behind you. 

“Sorry, I was changing,” you said. Your voice sounded far gone, and you tried your best to find it before asking, “What’re you doing here? Shouldn’t you be with Sasha?” 

“Zofia didn’t believe that I have this scrunchie in every color. I needed to prove her wrong,” she said matter-of-factly. She held out the scrunchie as evidence before shoving it back into her pocket. 

You exhaled, hard. “That’s no reason to go wandering off by yourself. You’re bunkmates—show them to her later.” You set your hands on her shoulders and spun her around. “Here, let me walk you back to archery.”

“Fine,” she grumbly agreed.

You waited until she was just far enough to not notice when you poked back inside the cabin. You scooped your shoes in one hand and whisper-shouted, “Sorry!”

“It’s—” Eren watched the door slam shut, “okay.” 

He sat there, alone. Blinking, disoriented, and unbelievably horny. Praying that there would still be a next time. When he could only assume the coast was clear, he got himself dressed and snuck out the back door. 

“So.” Falco paused, wholly absorbed in tying off the string bracelet he’d made. “Did you kiss her?”

Eren’s eyes widened. If he’d been drinking water, he would have probably even done a spit take. Again, how was this any of Falco’s business? 

A minute ago, Falco not-so-offhandedly mentioned he saw you and Eren hiking together the other day. Eren told him to mind his own bee’s wax and hoped that would be the end of it. He should have known that wouldn't stop the nosy punk.

He visibly prickled, thinking about that day, with you. 

Falco took it personally. “Sheesh, I was just asking.” He gave up on the bracelet, sighing defeatedly before handing it to Eren. “Can you tie this for me?” 

Eren plucked the bracelet from him in quiet agreement. He felt slightly guilty for giving a kid the silent treatment, even if it was deserved. As he fiddled with the tiny strings, he tried to think of how to phrase this in grade school terms. If kissing was all the way, then. . .

“We,” Eren mulled over his choice of words, “held hands.”

Falco laughed. He cackled! Snorting, “Seriously?” in a way that made Eren feel ashamed despite being the adult in the situation—which only made him feel worse. 

Eren flung the tied bracelet at Falco. “What do you know about girls, anyway? You’re, like, twelve.”

“Thirteen,” Falco corrected, though he was well-aware Eren knew his age. 

The two sat at a picnic table, the same one Eren had been seated at all afternoon, crafting bracelets because that was his post for the day. 

Let him repeat that: he had been making bracelets for the entire afternoon. So many that he thought his fingers would fall off by the time Falco asked for his help. Eren wanted to complain about it but couldn’t; there were definitely worse internships out there.

Falco rose from the table and sorted through the small pile of bracelets beside Eren—because he had been making them all afternoon. He picked his presumable favorite, with white and turquoise strings, and extended it to Eren. 

“Give her this,” he said. “I gave one to Gabi the other day, and she hasn’t taken it off since.”

Eren didn’t budge. “I’m not giving her a stupid string bracelet.” 

“‘Cause your plan,” Falco used air quotes around the word ‘plan,’ “is going so much better.”

Eren reminded himself who he was talking to and bit his tongue. “Fine, okay. I’ll give her the bracelet.”

It was a lie, but it was enough for Falco. He walked away with a satisfied grin. Just in time for the dinner bell to chime, and for Eren to finally escape the beating sun. 

The short walk to the dining hall was the first breather Eren had to himself in hours. He clung to it, slowing to a stroll as campers rushed by, calling one another out for races. He messed with the bracelet Falco handed him—one of the many Eren had made, but the only one he hadn’t left behind.

Eren wished things were as easy as Falco made them sound. As easy as giving you this bracelet and holding your hand—actually holding hands—and it meant the two of you were together. But you’d done much more than that, and somehow Eren felt more clueless than ever. He hadn’t even had a chance to talk to you since everything happened. 

That didn’t mean he’d stopped thinking about it, about you, almost to an insufferable degree. 

Take last night, for example: Eren lied awake in his bunk, restless, tortured by thoughts of you—though the camper with the nasty snoring habit didn’t make sleep come any easier.

The afternoon played in Eren’s mind on repeat like an old cassette tape he could rewind again and again. But the longer he listened, the more it started sounding like a bad, broken record. Agonizing over what he should or shouldn’t have done—if he came on too strong or, rather, if he didn’t try enough. Were his hands in the right places as he held you close? Did you like how he touched you—how he kissed you? 

Even thinking about it now, Eren could still feel your weight in his lap; the backs of your thighs pressing against the tops of his, letting the heat of your body spill into him like a flood. The softness of your mouth against his, and your hand working over his—

“Whatcha got there?”

He jumped when you appeared from his peripheral vision. Thankfully, you didn’t seem to notice and continued smiling at him as you asked, “Did you make that?”

Eren’s heart dropped into his stomach, maybe even deeper. There was no chance Falco’s plan would work. It would only result in him making a fool of himself in front of you, he was sure.

“No, um, Falco made it,” he lied in an attempt to hide his panic. “For you, actually.” 

Your eyes lit up as you took the bracelet from him and began inspecting it. “For me?” 

“Yeah.” He shrugged. “I think he was too shy to give it to you.” 

A giggle escaped you when you replied, “Seems like someone has a crush. Cute.”

Your airy cadence almost convinced him otherwise, but Eren believed you spoke to him directly. Like this was no longer about Falco.

He felt trapped under your quicksand gaze, struggling to sense if you saw through his bumbling excuse of a lie, and he’d been found out. 

But even if he managed to come up with something to say, no matter how brilliant, he wouldn’t have been able to speak it. Standing there in the sun’s fading light, you’d taken his breath away. Washed in shades of vibrant pink, of pale Dreamsicle orange, you looked more like a painting than a person. 

Beautiful.

“Yeah,” Eren said under his breath, so quietly that even he wasn’t sure he meant to say it aloud. “A crush.”

“I hope you’re not jealous,” you teased. You returned the bracelet before extending your wrist to him. “Here. Tie it on for me.” 

As much as he never wanted to tie another bracelet in his life, he supposed once more wouldn’t kill him. Only for you, though.

The sensation of his fingertips ghosting your skin drummed up memories of the other day, and you imagined them skating along your spine. You retracted your hand just as Eren finished, hoping to hide the goosebumps he’d left behind.

“Levi’s hosting tonight’s event, right?” you asked, if not for conversation’s sake alone, then for confirmation he would be there tonight, in Cabin #9. 

Late after dinner, the campers would circle around the fire pit for s’mores and a scary story—a Camp Stillwater classic, as you learned. They did this every year, apparently. The only thing that made this year different was. . . 

“Yeah.” Eren paused on a small chuckle. “Did you see that ridiculous costume Hange brought?”

Hange was the activity director here at Camp Stillwater and the mastermind behind tonight’s plan to spice up this age-long tradition. When Hange explained the plan to jump out at the end of Levi’s story, Jean and Connie took bets on how many kids would pee themselves.

Honestly, you didn’t think Levi even knew about it, or else he probably would have locked Hange in a supply closet and burned the god-awful costume for good measure. You couldn’t wait to hear about it tomorrow. 

While that chaos ensued, the camp counselors would enjoy a night of their own, spent in Cabin #9. Unlike the other eight that had wildlife-themed names—like Badger or Mallard, or yours: Chickadee Cabin—this was just the spare cabin they used to house necessities like toilet paper and extra first aid kits. Where there were practically no risks for interruptions. 

“Unfortunately, I did, which means I will be actively avoiding the fire pit for the foreseeable future,” you said, joining in on Eren’s laugh. You rested your hand in the crook of his arm as if you'd done it a million times before, and the muscle flexed under your unexpected touch. “So, I guess that means I’ll be seeing you tonight?” 

It was the vocal equivalent of a wink, your question. You made it known you were very much anticipating seeing Eren tonight—thank god. And though he more than felt the same, he could only affirm it with a nod and a short, “Tonight.”

Eren watched you head into the dining hall but decided not to follow. Instead, he ducked away for a breather; he needed to walk around for a minute and cool off his thoughts. 

Cabin #9 looked like the rest except for the sheets missing from the beds. It also carried this vacant sort of smell that reminded you of a basement. But with the eight of you sitting around, you soon forgot the weird smell. Laughter replaced the emptiness, warmed and spirited by wine and a bottle of Scotch Jean had apparently been snitching from. 

It was easy to imagine how innocent rounds of cards quickly regressed into strip poker. But that game lasted even shorter, considering only a handful of you knew how to play. The final nail in the coffin was when Annie had to remove an article of clothing, and Connie weirdly suggested her socks, of all things. You swore she was about to sock him straight in the jaw before Armin stepped in (no pun intended).

The only rightful progression from there was to move onto seven minutes in heaven—because unlike strip poker, there was no way that could go wrong.

As the game goes, everyone would shove the chosen couple into the bathroom, where they had seven minutes to do as they pleased with one another. The remaining had to promise to keep themselves distracted, that they most definitely wouldn’t listen in on the action from the other side of that shabby door. 

While everyone argued and pointed fingers over who should have to go first, Sasha corralled you and Eren into the bathroom together and shut the door behind you, probably leaning with her back against it to keep you locked inside. 

Though these weren’t the circumstances you would have picked for this conversation, you were glad to have the next seven minutes alone to address the elephant looming in the supply bathroom. 

You opened your mouth to speak, but Eren’s voice came out, telling you, “I’m sorry about the other day. For, you know, being weird and stuff.” 

You didn’t know why he was apologizing. For reasons out of his control—Gabi, the stars being out of alignment, or perhaps it was merely a case of the wrong place, wrong time—the afternoon was weird. But none of it was his fault. If anything, you expected to be the one apologizing for running out on him. 

With a shake of your head, you said, “You have nothing to be sorry for. I’m sorry I was weird and left without saying anything.” 

There was a beat of silence you spent fiddling with your hands while he kept his buried in his pockets. But even then, you couldn’t help but crack a giggle, just at the sheer absurdity of the situation you’d found—no, put yourselves in. 

“I’m just glad to see you made it back to your cabin all right,” you jested, one final blow to the tension between you. 

Eren swallowed down the saliva that’d grown thick in his throat and gave a soft laugh. You had this wonderful way about you, he was learning. This innate talent for rendering him breathless, wordless, thoughtless—every -less in the book. And yet, at the same time, just a wisp of your smile, a giggle, had him breathing easy again. Suddenly, he couldn’t remember the nights he’d spent agonizing over you, only how foolish he’d be to pass up this chance to be close to you again.

The space between you was tight enough for him to near you in only a step. He tilted his chin to smile down at you.

“Despite the painfully awkward boner I had tucked into my waistband,” he chuckled. “Yes, I made it back to my cabin all right.”

You snorted a laugh. “Oh, I’m so sorry to have abandoned you in such a state. However will I make it up to you?” 

“You don’t have to do anything, but. . .” That wasn’t to say he would mind a kiss. 

Eren’s voice trailed off as his fingers locked around your belt loops to pull you even closer. He bent, trailing his nose down the slope of yours. Your heart instantly fluttered. 

“We still don’t have any condoms,” you whispered against his mouth. Close, but still not touching. “Not like seven minutes is much time, anyway.”

Eren’s fingers toyed with your belt loops. Your hips moved with a slight swivel between his hands, but his eyes didn’t leave you once. They looked greener in the dark, somehow. “That’s okay. I actually wanted to—”

You interrupted him with a kiss, straight on his lips. Then it was the corner of his mouth, his jaw, and onto his neck, where you could feel his pulse point jump beneath the press of your mouth. 

—Talk to you about something. 

But this was okay, too. More than. 

You pushed a hand beneath his shirt and splayed it across his stomach. He felt your palm travel lower and lower, where he was already half-erect just from being this close to you and the promise of no interruptions (for approximately six minutes and some change). 

Your voice was a humid murmur, hot against his skin when you asked, “Want me to give you head?”

If Eren believed his brain was malfunctioning before, then this was a full-system meltdown. Like he had short-circuited and his boy brain took over. 

He nodded dumbly. “Yeah, sure.”

Your hand made quick work of his shorts, then snuck beneath his boxers to touch him for real this time. Your fingers glided along his length, so teasingly that you felt him jolt against your palm, before you took him into a gentle grasp. Your other hand stretched the neck of his shirt so you could kiss his collarbone, where you remembered he liked.

Eren let his eyes flit shut. He lost himself in your touches, the feeling of your soft fingers wrapping around him to jerk him off. He completely forgot the conversation he hoped to have with you tonight—the one about his feelings and what not.

Hell, he even forgot your promise of a blow job until he finally opened his eyes to see you staring up at him, with your neck stretched and chin resting on his chest. Eren blinked to steady his vision and watched as you sank to your knees, dragging his shorts down with you. 

You captured his gaze, holding onto it even as you fingered his waistband. You sucked your bottom lip between your teeth in anticipation, tugging at his boxers so slowly that once they sat low enough on his waist, you’d created enough tension for his cock to spring out. It hung heavy before you, centimeters away from your lips, and saliva pooled on the back of your tongue. You lapped at him, properly spreading your spit over his length. A gruff sound left him, placated by your wet tongue, for now, but still in desperate need of more. 

Perching higher on your knees, you laid one hand against Eren’s thigh while the other aligned the head of his cock with your open mouth. Your lips stretched around the thick of him, wider as you pulled a breath in through your nose, preparing to take more of him. 

With every bob of your head, his cock reached deeper, nearing the opening to your throat. You sucked and swallowed around him until he was good and sensitive, the underside of his cock throbbing against your tongue, encouraging you to keep going. 

Your mouth on him felt like the closest thing to heaven he could imagine. Warm and wet and snug around him. Slick as you swirled your tongue in tandem with your hand. It squeezed and slipped, up and down, up and down, slathering your saliva down the base of his cock. 

Heat began emanating from the low part of his stomach, scattering throughout every part of him in frissons. And while you were the one on your knees in front of him, Eren felt he ought to be worshiping you. 

“Fuck, that’s good,” Eren groaned, his breath hitching before picking up. “You’re good—really fucking good at that.” 

His voice, all low and growly, dripping with indulgence, made you aflutter. You hummed in acknowledgement, warming to his praise. He must have felt it, the subtle vibration in your throat, because his thigh flexed beneath your palm, and his hand quickly sought the top of your head for extra support. 

As the countdown ticked by, you knew someone could interrupt at any minute, but you couldn’t find it in you to care. In that moment, you attuned yourself to Eren and only him, with eyes dedicated to him as you sucked his cock, now for your mutual pleasure it seemed. 

You felt like butter, and he the hot knife, melting you into a puddle right at his feet. He would curse and tell you what a good job you were doing; pet the crown of your head or caress your cheek. He did everything you would never expect from a quick bathroom blow job—up until you had the entirety of him in your mouth, with the tip of your nose buried in the soft tuft of hair on his stomach. Then he had to stop to muffle himself with his forearm. 

You thought you might gag. Out of fear of anyone hearing you, you pulled yourself off him with a sputter and a shameful amount of drool. You wiped yourself dry(-ish) with the back of your wrist, then rushed to replace your mouth with strokes of your hand. When you glanced up at him, you found a certain softness in his eyes, hidden behind his lust-laden lids. 

As talented as you were with your mouth—and your hands and your tongue—Eren finally felt he could let out a much-needed exhale. Yes, he wanted to come. Of course, he wanted that. But what he needed was clarity, to pull himself together. Not to mention, the thought of figuring out where he should finish—or unexpectedly doing so—freaked him out. 

Eren swallowed around the lump in his throat. “Actually, wait. There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you.” 

He hooked his arms beneath yours and helped you onto your feet. Noting the tremble to your legs, he held you by your shoulders, keeping you at a small distance if not for temptation alone.

Tonight on his walk to Cabin #9, Eren had vaguely planned what he wanted to say to you. But whatever he had scraped together was lost on him the moment you put his dick in your mouth. To try to remember any of it now would be useless. 

Between Eren’s ragged breaths, he began his ‘confession’ with, “I think about you a lot.” 

You angled your head. “Oh?” 

He realized how that sounded, especially when said in this position. “Wait, not like that. Well, sorta—but like, not in a weird way.” He felt like a goddamn idiot, with his pants quite literally around his ankles. “Ah, hold on a second.”

Eren yanked his shorts back up. “What I’m trying to say is—” He huffed in a fluster. “I’m trying to say that I—”

The door flung open. Both you and Eren stiffened under the shock of bright light. 

“Time’s up!” Connie shouted, grinning from ear to ear at the sight laid out before him. It wasn’t as X-rated as it could have been if he’d burst in just a minute earlier, but it was still pretty compromising, at least for Eren, standing there with his pants undone. And you didn’t even want to know how your hair looked. 

With one swing of his arm, Eren elbowed Connie out of the bathroom and slammed the door. Even with a door between you, you could hear everyone’s amusement as plain as day. Oohs and aahs and fits of giggles. Humiliation engulfed you like a cloak, leaving you unable to do anything but cover your steaming-hot face and laugh. 

Eren laughed, too. He couldn’t restrain it because, frankly, the only word that could describe this experience was laughable. You were zero for two in successful hook-ups, and it wasn’t looking like the odds were in your favor with your knack for interruptions, even if this time should have been expected. 

Eren caught your wrists, guiding them away from your face so he could see you and your breathless smile. As you collected yourself, Eren picked up the pieces from where he’d left off.

“What I was trying to say was—”

“Oh my god. Are you guys fucking in there?”

It wasn’t Connie this time, but Hitch. She busted in with her foot in the air like she’d kicked in the door. She grabbed you by the wrists, not nearly as gently as Eren had, and dragged you out of the bathroom. You looked back at Eren apologetically, ignoring Hitch’s complaints. 

“Other people want to play! Don’t make it gross in there for the rest of us,” she barked.

What was Eren trying to tell you? Your heart pounded at the thought—that, or you were still coming down from the thrill that was seven minutes in heaven. 

But when you turned to look for him, after Hitch had freed you from her clutches, he was no longer there. You spun around the room only to realize you wouldn’t get to know what Eren wanted to tell you. He was gone. 

As you predicted, Levi was pissed after the stunt Hange pulled at the bonfire. And it wasn’t just him. A single pair of pants were pissed as well, meaning Jean won his bet against Connie.

Gabi made sure to include every detail, recounting the night with tears in her eyes, choking on her laughter and breakfast sausage. You’d only known the girl for a handful of weeks—though it felt like a lifetime after spending countless hours cramped in the same cabin—but that was more than enough time for you to learn she was quick-witted. Extremely so. She’d mastered her craft by the age of thirteen, and no one was off limits, yourself included. It was no surprise she found last night’s events nothing short of hilarious.

In fact, you’d argue she was too perceptive, always asking the sort of questions you didn’t know how to answer. You couldn’t blame her, just like you couldn’t blame the rest of your campers for their healthy dose of curiosity when it came to college life. Even if it did occasionally toe the line into nosiness.

But out of the millions of questions they threw at you, the one that you expected the least came on the very last day of camp, asked by none other than Gabi herself. 

“Are you going to date Eren when you go back to school?” 

This was what you meant when you said she was curious. 

You stopped dead in your tracks, eyes bugged and searching for the source of the voice. Gabi leaned out the cabin window with this devious grin on her face, propped between her hands as she waited for your answer. Did she really need to shout it out the window?

You shuffled over, chuckling awkwardly as you asked, “What are you talking about?” 

Her eyes narrowed in interest, like you had fallen into her trap.

“Falco told me he has a crush on you,” Gabi said, deadpan. “And you have a crush on him, soooo. . .”

You put your hands on your hips. “Who said I have a crush on him?” 

Gabi pulled this you’ve gotta be kidding me face with an exaggerated roll of her eyes. “Whatever.”

She ducked back into the cabin as the realization hit you—when you finally caught the first part of what she said. 

“Wait!” you called after her. 

You sprinted around the cabin, meeting her as she emerged from the front door. She had her belongings in tow, dragging her suitcase along the gravel as you asked, “How does Falco know he has a crush on me?”

You hated how you allowed your interest, your urgency, to seep through. You hated even more how Gabi’s keen self detected it; the glint of satisfaction in her eyes was as clear as day. But that was all she gave you. She continued on toward the parent pickup lot, waving a hand high over her head but never looking back as she yelled, “See you next summer!” 

Was that what Eren wanted to tell you the other night? That had to be it. 

To think, he might have been trying to muster the courage to ask you out, and all the while, you were asking to suck him off. 

You should have seen this coming. After all, Sasha did say Eren had ‘a thing’ for you. But back then, she could have meant anything by it. She could have meant he just wanted to fuck and leave it at that, and you probably would have been okay with it—back then.

Now, you felt much differently about everything, about him. You glanced at your wrist, down at the bracelet Falco had made for you. Supposedly. You had no reason to doubt it before, but now, you had one big flashing-in-your-face reason. 

Just like that, as quick as a flip of a switch, you saw the bracelet in a new light. You looked at it and thought of Eren, the expression that crossed his face when he went to tie it on for you. Unreadable then, but thinking about it now, it made sense, didn’t it?

Before it was too late and Levi had locked up for the season, you hurried to the craft building to check for any leftover string. 

You couldn’t have known this, but on the far side of camp, Falco had a similar parting conversation with Eren. Unprompted, as always, and never when Eren wished—not that he ever wished to have these types of talks.

Falco was the last camper in Coyote Cabin after unpacking and repacking his suitcase three times, fighting to get it shut. 

“How is it you’re leaving with more than you brought?” Eren huffed as he wrestled with the stubborn zipper. “You’re supposed to lose things at camp. Haven’t you seen the lost and found?” 

Falco took the question literally and thought aloud. “Let’s see. I painted a t-shirt for myself. Then I painted another one for my mom. . .” Each bit and bob he’d scavenged over the month he ticked off on his fingers, contentedly sitting atop his suitcase to weigh it down. “By the way, your girlfriend has been acting super weird around me the last few days. Like she wants to pinch my cheeks—what’s with that?”

Ugh. As if you weren’t on his mind enough already.

With a final yank, Eren sealed the suitcase. He rose to his feet with a sigh. “She’s not my girlfriend. I thought you of all people would know that.” Eren extended a hand to Falco and helped him up, knowing the next thing he’d say was, “And I might have told her you have a crush on her.”

“Seriously?”Falco cried. “She’s old enough to be my mom!”

Eren clicked his tongue. “We’re not that old.”

“Well, you better do something before you are that old. At this rate, you’ll be a grandpa before she even knows you like her!”

Again, even if Eren didn’t like hearing it, Falco had a point. Time after time, he had perfect opportunities lined up to make his interest known. Plenty of them, practically handed to him on a silver platter. And what did he do? He blew them, each and every one.

Correction: He almost blew every chance. He still had tonight, before you would return to the reality of classes and part-time jobs that didn’t involve wiffle ball and craft time. 

The last car drove past the horizon and out of sight, officially signaling the end of summer camp—for everyone except the eight camp counselors remaining, the tents they’d brought from home, and the beer they’d kept stuffed under their bunks. Yes, everything had been locked tight, but earlier Sasha snagged some ice for drinks and whatever scraped-together leftovers she could manage, enough for one last feast around the fire. Outstretched before you was a wonderful and well-deserved, lazy evening, spent doing all the activities you wished you could have been doing for the last month.  

For you, that meant enjoying Stillwater Lake without the looming threat of having to rescue a kid from another vicious seaweed attack. Getting warm and drunk by nightfall, and rounding out your perfect day by sharing your sleeping bag with one person in particular. 

Connie stumbled upon a forgotten frisbee on the walk over. He tossed it high over your head, back and forth between Eren and Jean in the opening that gave way to the lake. You gathered along its edge, and it only took a few dipped toes and exclamations about the temperature (‘It’s like bathwater!’) before everyone had kicked off their shoes and socks to wade around in the water.

But that didn’t mean the day was all strolling and sniffing roses. While the water was as still as its namesake, your thoughts, your heart—you were anything but. Restless, if you had to name the feeling. Fueled off stolen glances along, each too long yet still longer than the last.

There was tension between you and Eren, the good kind. The hope for nothing to turn into something, and soon. It’d been there for weeks. The limited time you’d spent together only amplified the tension, dialing it up to a noticeable ten. And it wasn’t just Eren who couldn’t keep his eyes off you but everyone else, watching both you and Eren, the two idiots caught in the throes of it—whatever ‘it’ was.

You said that as though you were merely an innocent bystander, like everyone else had a severe case of the wandering eye but not you. If anything, you were the biggest offender. 

You knew you shouldn’t stare, but it was hard not to when all you could think about was Eren. Eren and the lake and how good he unfortunately looked while swimming in the lake. With eyes that matched the water, and shoulders that had baked all summer and turned brilliantly sun-kissed and freckled. 

He caught you, numerous times, but it wasn’t like you were trying to hide it. You wanted him to return your glances, and he always did. Welcoming each one and leaving you with more questions than you had the second before—what was he thinking?

So fucking pretty. 

Not exactly waxing poetic, if that was what you’d expected.

Yeah, he was lucky you couldn’t hear his thoughts. 

But thoughts would only have the two of you running in circles; they accomplished nothing. At some point, you’d need to actually act on them. You could only maybe later yourself so many times before there would be no ‘later.’ You had to accept the fact that there was no perfect time and the blatant staring and the way your palms started sweating whenever you thought about it for too long, like you were doing right now. 

When you finally approached Eren, it was after the sun looked like it had sunk into the lank. All day, it stayed hidden behind an overcast sky, until the very last moment, now, when the clouds decided to split. You had to squint to get a good look at him. 

“Hey.”

Your own voice surprised you. How embarrassing. You didn’t know why you were so nervous around him, like it had happened overnight—even faster than that. You thought you had control here, at least a semblance of it, but even that had dissolved. You stood before him on legs that felt nervy and numb, somehow at once, twiddling a bracelet between your hands that now felt incredibly silly.

“Hey,” Eren said back. His eyes shifted down to the bracelet, then back up to your face, and the corners of his mouth hitched into a smile. Well, there was no turning back now, was there?

“Hey—I mean,” you laughed a little, and it sounded painful. You loosened a breath before meeting his eyes. Cool like the turquoise string in the matching bracelet you had made him, yet there was a twinkle of warmth that you found intoxicating. “I was thinking, it’s not a real friendship bracelet if I don’t have anyone to match with.”

Eren’s closed-mouth smile grew to a real one, and so grew your confidence. Enough for you to add, “And I couldn’t catch Falco before he left, so I figured you would do.”

His eyebrows flicked up in amusement. “Oh, I see how it is. I’m the last resort, huh?”

“No, you’re my second choice. My last resort is Connie.”

“I won’t tell him you said that.” 

You playfully rolled your eyes. “Now, are you going to accept my friendship or not?” 

“‘Course.” Eren gave you his hand, the wear and tear of camp evident along the grooves of his knuckles. “Except you have to tie it on for me.”

You did just that, looping the bracelet around his wrist and knotting the end a few times. From behind, you could hear Jean and Annie arguing over the most efficient way to start a fire. No one was paying you or Eren any mind, but just in case, you hushed your voice.

“You should come to my tent later,” you whispered, tilting your gaze up at him. “After everyone’s asleep.”

Eren’s smirk made the back of your neck hot. “Should I bring my sleeping bag?”

“No need. I’m happy to share.” 

That enthusiasm toward sharing died a little when Eren scared you later that night. Staffing had powered everything down for the season—and you meant everything. No lamps, nothing. Without the campfire, the night was pitch black. Eren had no choice but to shine his flashlight to find his way to you, lest he wished to trip over firewood.

The zipper squealed as Eren pulled back the corner of your tent. You sprang upright in alarm, heart thudding against your ribcage like it might burst. As more light poured inside, you finally made out his silhouette. 

“God, you scared me,” you exhaled with a hand clasped over your chest. 

The laugh that rattled through him had you doubting the sincerity of his, “Sorry,” and made it sound more like he’d done it on purpose. He ducked to crawl through the door before closing it again, sealing in the charred scent of citronella candles inside with him. 

“Come here already,” you said, scooting to make room for him beside you. 

You realized it was a tight squeeze for two—or rather, you realized how large he was when sitting inside your sorry excuse of a tent. It wasn’t nearly as spacious as you had anticipated when imagining inviting him in for a nightcap. 

That was okay, though. You didn’t need much room. As long as the both of you could fit, even semi-comfortably. . . 

You took his face into your hands and captured Eren’s lips in a kiss. Then another one. You kissed him again, and you kissed him with tongue, and he tasted like dessert. Like honey and cinnamon graham crackers from the s’mores you had toasted around the fire. You indulged for a moment, kissing him slowly, as if to pretend you had all the time in the world, and there wasn’t only thin nylon separating you from the great outdoors. 

You dragged him toward you, over top of you, as you collapsed back into the warm press of your sleeping bag where you once lay. From there, things escalated, fast. You had already been here before. 

Every touch was heavy with need and nowhere near as cautious as before. Your fingers weaved themselves into his hair, pulling him close. His hands wedged between your back and the ground, flattening your body to his, pulling you even closer. 

Eren nuzzled into the curve of your neck, inhaling the thickly sweet smell of bonfire in your hair, mixed with one that was uniquely you. He remembered the sounds you made when he kissed your neck, right there, in the dip beneath your jaw, and he needed to hear them again. His mouth was reckless, insatiable, like he didn’t want to savor you but eat you whole. 

You arched your neck, giving him the expanse of it to do with as he pleased. But what he was really after was still out of reach. He sat back just enough to throw your arms above your head and slipped off your shirt. He could hardly see you, made up of shadows from faint moonlight that cast through the tent, but he didn’t need to see to know you were bare below him. 

Eren ran a large hand down your chest, catching your nipple and squeezing your breast. You let out a whimper, but his lips were quick to smother the sound. His mouth was hot against yours, his tongue licking into your open and desperately willing mouth. It was messy yet intentional, had your skin prickling despite the accumulation of sweat on the nape of your neck. It left you chasing after him, never breaking the kiss once, as he rolled to your side. 

He propped himself onto his elbow to lean over you. His other hand ventured from your sternum to your stomach, his fingertips sparking little flames everywhere he touched.

Eren had to feel his way through the dark, focusing on how you’d tense and wiggle in anticipation, blind to every one of his unpredictable touches. He reached down between your legs to discover you wore only a pair of underwear to bed. He grinned into the kiss, knowing you most likely underdressed for the sticky nighttime air, but believing you had done it for his ease alone.

Your legs spread for his hand to nestle between. He cupped your clothed pussy, rubbing the lips with enough pressure to have your hips bearing down on his palm, aching for even more. 

“Your fingers. Please,” you murmured against his mouth, deliciously breathy. “I wanna feel them.”

Eren sat a bit higher. He tucked your panties into the crease of your thigh and traced your slit. You shuddered, awakening to the feeling of his fingers gliding along your wetness, collecting it, before pushing his middle finger inside of you. Your mouth fell ajar. You couldn’t kiss him any longer, only hopelessly pant into his mouth, breathing his air as he dragged his finger in and out of you. 

“How’s that?” Eren asked, his voice lower than you remembered and teeming with desire. “Feel good?”

You nodded even though he wouldn’t see it. “Yeah. Can—can you add another?”

Such a helpless plea. Fuck. 

Eren wished he could see you, like actually see you. He could hear you falling apart, the little huffs through your nose; he could even feel it, your insides clamping down on his finger—god, even thinking about it now, how tight you’d feel around his cock, had him reeling. 

When he pumped his middle finger back inside you, his ring finger accompanied it. Your muscles flexed then relaxed, with your head falling back into the pillow as the soft part of his palm began slapping against your touch-starved clit. 

The sound you made—something of a moan or some unintelligible curse—emboldened him. He felt the same need for your orgasm as he would his own, with the same burning intensity in his gut. He might have wanted it even more than you did. He was concentrated, and for this fleeting blip in time, he’d say you were the only two people in the world. With nothing around you except a choir of crickets chirping low in your ear; the sounds of night, of isolation. 

Eren rested his forehead against yours, staring into the pit of you through your pupils. You felt your mouth drop as he slipped his fingers from you. He brought them up to your clit, stroking you with a feather-light touch. 

“You like that, yeah?” he whispered. “You like it when I play with you like this?” 

Unlike his fingertips, his gaze was hot and heavy. It stole the breath from your lungs. 

“Uh-huh,” were the only syllables you could manage without choking. 

“C’mon, pretty,” Eren cooed. He tilted away, just to kiss the corner of your mouth. “Use your words.” He kissed your forehead next. “Tell me if you want me to make you come.” 

If the rising temperature in the tent didn’t already have you sweltering, then his words would have surely done the job. Heat rose to the apples of your cheeks, and he kissed those, too. 

“I want,” you said on a weepy gasp. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d been this turned on. You would say anything, if he asked. “I want you to make me come. Please, Eren.” 

The way you cried his name, so softly, so needily—it drove him crazy. But before he could do anything about it, he needed to get out of this damn shirt. 

Sticky with sweat, the fabric clung to his back uncomfortably. Eren pushed himself upright, sitting on his calves as he peeled his tee over his head. He tossed it aside with a sigh of relief. Not much relief, but at least he could feel the air against his flushed chest. He smoothed back a few rebellious strands of hair that stuck to his forehead before diving back into you. 

Eren kissed you again, not on the mouth this time but in the hollow between your collarbones. His lips skimmed down to the valley of your breasts, where he circled his tongue around one of your nipples before taking it into his mouth. He gave ample attention to both, going back and forth, flicking his tongue, sucking at them until they were perky enough for a pinch. 

Just when you thought you couldn’t take anymore, biting your lip until you thought the skin might break, Eren went lower. He was below your navel, pawing over your hips and thighs, when he told you, “I want to return the favor.”

Immediately, your head darted up from the pillow to look at him. “Oh, you really don’t have to—”

“I want,” he said more firmly, kissing the spot where your hip met your thigh, “to return the favor.” Eyes fixed on you, Eren nosed at your clothed cunt. “Can I?”

How were you supposed to say no to that?

“Okay,” you quietly agreed, and it seemed to open the floodgates. Like the word had unleashed a swarm of fireflies within you, sparking in the deepest part of your stomach. Expectancy rushed through your body; it was nothing short of a thrill. 

Eren mouthed along your inner thighs, forging a pathway up between your legs. They were soft and giving beneath him. Plush skin molding around his fingertips as he pinned you into place, squirming more and more as he closed in on where you wanted him most. 

He was delicate as he took the seat of your underwear in his teeth and tucked them back against your thigh. You felt his breath on you first, the wet warmth of anticipation, then his tongue as it licked a stripe of heat through you. Your body jerked, heels digging into the tent floor in some meaningless attempt at grounding yourself.

Eren’s chuckle died on his tongue. You—everything about you, from your tent to your pillow and blanket, to the remnants of shampoo in your hair and the arousal dripping between your legs—was delicious, sweet. A welcomed reprieve after weeks upon weeks of living with boys. But as wonderful as you were, he felt himself growing desperate for more. 

“I want to see you,” Eren said against your skin, almost growling. You didn’t expect it, nor did you expect for him to straighten out and go digging around. You released the breath you’d been holding and perched yourself onto your elbows. 

You didn’t realize what he meant, or what he was looking for, until it hit you in the face: the beam from his flashlight, quickly smothered by your t-shirt. The navy blue fabric dimmed the light to a faint glow, but it was enough that you could see him, just a little, after your eyes adjusted. 

Confessedly, you stared for a minute. But he did, too. Your eyes fell over his shadowy form, the slight part to his lips, the subtle rise and fall of his chest. You savored the parts of him you’d only been able to steal glances at. And for that minute, you felt unhurried. You had more than an hour (and certainly more than seven minutes) to yourselves for the first time. 

But it was just that: a minute and nothing more. A mere sixty seconds before you became hyper aware of where you really were. You weren’t in your bedroom, safely hidden behind a locked door. Paper-thin nylon separated you from the others, and if you could see Eren, then how clearly could they see you, together? Had he effectively made the tent a beacon of light in the dark? You thought back to all the corny movies you’d seen—both lovers and ax murderers with their silhouettes projected onto tents like a shadow puppet show. 

“Wait,” you breathed. “What if they can see us?” 

You weren’t sure he heard you. He looked you over with darkened eyes, with a heaviness behind his gaze that you could feel. It was like a weight on your chest, keeping you there for him, heart thumping, in only a flimsy pair of underwear. 

“Fuck, you’re so hot,” Eren said, so quietly that you didn’t think you were meant to hear it. He rubbed his palms from the tops of your thighs down, then back up again. “Let them see. I don’t even care.”

Your panties were soaked through, stuck to your inner thigh and begging to come off. Eren slid them over your hips and down your legs. You raised your feet, and there was a slight wobble to them as he pulled your underwear off your ankles.

You remained propped on your elbows, watching Eren’s every move with bright but hesitant eyes. He lowered himself down again, cupping your hips with his hands and thumbing over the bone reassuringly. He kissed so gently, everywhere he could, but paying the most attention to your pussy. Swollen and sensitive, each press of his lips tickled, burning like a seal of wax on an envelope. They left you gasping, wiggling around, spreading your legs for more; they soothed your apprehension, convinced you that fucking in this sweaty tent, in the middle of the forest, was the best idea you’d ever had. 

“Please—oh, god,” you whisper-whined. You needed his tongue back on you.

“What is it?” he playfully asked, knowing fully well what it was you wanted. “You want me to keep going?”

Eren lapped the flat of his tongue over you, slow and hot. You were puddy in his hands, malleable and pliant, and you knew it, too. You just didn’t have it in you to care. Maybe you even liked it. 

“Yes,” you moaned. “Keep going.”

Eren smirked. “What happened? You don’t care if they see us?” His hands curved beneath you, pushing on the backs of your thighs so they were up and out of his way. “See you like this, with your legs in the air for me?”

“No. No, I don’t fucking care,” you rushed out on a shaky breath.

That was enough for him to finally give into you. He closed his mouth over you, and instantly you were enveloped in heat. The softness of his lips, the deftness of his tongue as he licked you, over and over again, had you seeing stars behind your eyelids. 

One hand tangled itself in your pillow case, and your other shoved itself in Eren’s hair, tugging him a little to the left. The tip of his tongue flicked over your clit from that angle, and you felt yourself shiver and clench. 

“Right there, right there,” you softly chanted. “Just like that—fuck!” 

Eren ground his hips into the sleeping bag beneath him. It was pathetic of him, but he couldn’t restrain himself. You were, quite literally, the hottest thing he’d ever seen—and heard and felt and tasted, for what it was worth. And before he knew it, he had his hand shoved down the front of his shorts, groaning at the relief of his own hand. 

He was helpless to you. Helpless to the very notion that he finally had you like this, squirming in pleasure of his doing, the proof of it leaking over his tongue. Yes, you were the one unraveling right before him, crying out that you were about to come, but he was the one at your mercy. Tell him to jump, and he’d ask how high. Ask him to keep doing this, licking you to orgasm again and again, forever, and he would. 

Mounting pressure, not only from tonight but still lingering from every interruption, released itself in an eruption. It coursed through you, pulsing outward from your core and leaving toe-curling ripples in its wake. And all you could do was lie there and let it take you wholly. Hide your face in the bend of your elbow in hopes it would stifle your cries. It half-worked, resulting in a drawn-out whine, one you could feel against your face like steam. A soft sound for just the two of you to hear. 

Once it was over, after you’d let your arm flop to your side, Eren rolled off, just as spent as you. You each lay there on your backs, staring at the pitched ceiling, with the most erratic breaths tugging at your chests. 

You wiped a bead of sweat from your upper lip only to realize that was just the beginning of it: blots of perspiration that were no longer decorating your hairline but dripping down your forehead, down your neck, and between your breasts. 

“I think I need some air,” you said with a sheepish sort of laugh. 

Eren looked relieved when he turned to you. Coupled with his sweat-sheened shoulder, you could almost predict it when he said, “I’m so glad you said it first.” He pushed himself upright. “Me too.”

“We could go for a walk,” you offered, then a smile took hold of your face. “Or maybe a dip in the lake?” 

In truth, it wasn’t a bad idea. Eren even seemed to consider it, wearing this thoughtfully crooked expression before agreeing. 

He stayed in just his shorts, while you reluctantly put your clothes back on over your balmy skin. When you thought you were ready to leave, Eren caught you by the wrist.

“Hold on.” He pulled you into him, stealing a peck. 

You didn’t let it end there, though. You kissed him again, longer this time, winding yourself into him, not minding the rising temperature. It was a lapse in judgment when you thought, Fuck it. I don’t care if I pass out from the heat. I want him inside of me. But you didn’t get the chance to make the call before Eren had already begun unzipping the door, his lips leaving yours in a self-satisfied grin. 

You poked your head out to find nothing had changed since everyone turned in for the night. You breathed a bit easier knowing that, walked a bit lighter behind Eren as he illuminated the path with his flashlight. 

Outside the tent, the air wasn’t much cooler, but at least there was a breeze. Humid, but fresh. The layer of sweat on your skin prickled, turning tacky as it dried on your skin. You couldn’t wait to shed your clothes and plunge into the lake for a rinse. 

You walked in a comfortable silence, side-by-side. It was a quick jaunt to the lake, but far enough away that the huddle of tents was out of sight. No one would stumble upon the two of you unless they came looking—or, on the off chance, someone else wanted to take a late-night dive, too. But that seemed pretty unlikely. 

Considering you’d already bared everything for him, you didn’t give it a second thought as you tore your shirt over your head. Nor did you think about it before kicking off your sandals, peeling your shorts and underwear down your legs next. 

You toed through the sand and over to the water’s edge. When you didn’t hear Eren following behind, you spun around to see him right where you’d left him. As if you had inexplicably swapped roles over the last five minutes, he remained rooted in place, apprehensive, still in his shorts, while you stood naked in the moonlight. 

You took a few steps toward him. “What? Don’t tell me you’re nervous?” 

There was a teasing cadence to your tone. You sang the syllables. Ner-vous. 

Obviously, Eren was nervous. It was entirely your fault that he was crumbling on the spot. How could he not, with you naked, all giggles, bouncing around in front of him? For fuck’s sake, you were still bleary-eyed and moony from the orgasm he gave you—and not to mention, he could still taste you on the back of his tongue. 

He would never tell you any of this, but he didn’t need to. You seemed to know already, grinning ear-to-ear at him as if you could guess every thought as it crossed his mind. 

You leaned in on your tiptoes, and Eren noticeably braced, jumpy, like every one of his nerve endings had gone haywire. You floated him a quick kiss, luring him as he did with you. You walked backwards toward the lake, eyes trained on him, with that same ever-growing grin. 

It was quite the sight: you, seemingly without a care in the world, even if you should have a few—you know, like stepping on a sharp rock or tripping over a tangle of seaweed. Eren couldn’t help giving a gruff laugh as he shook his head. 

“You can’t get all shy on me now,” you called out as you stepped out onto the dock. You twirled around to overlook the lake. “Not after I had your dick in my mouth, and you just—”

“Okay, okay! I’m getting in,” Eren interrupted before you had to say it aloud. Ten seconds later, he met you at the end of the dock, naked, and you tried your best to keep your eyes straight ahead.

In a word, the view was serene. The night had water-colored the world in rich indigo; nothing went untouched except for the very crest of the water. It was almost crystalline, like the lake would shatter the moment you dove in. 

“Regretting your decision?” Eren asked. You hadn’t known him long, or that well, but you could tell he sounded more himself than he did a minute ago, with a certain cheekiness ringing through his voice. 

“Nope,” you said with faux confidence, even puffing your chest. “Just making sure you don’t chicken out on me first.”

Eren raised a brow. “What does that mean?” 

He got his answer in the form of you pushing him into the water. You’d like to think you surprised him with that, but realistically, he more than likely saw it coming and allowed for it, because how else would you have successfully knocked the guy over? You didn’t leave him hanging though; you weren’t that cruel. You jumped in after him, ensuring he wasn’t alone when he resurfaced. 

The lake’s temperature that was once, in your own words, like bathwater now felt more like a forgotten bath you’d let run cold. Perhaps some would call it refreshing, but you’d need more convincing. You wrapped your arms around yourself in a hug, gasping, “This was a much better idea in my head.” 

Eren barked a laugh, the real kind that came from his belly, and he shook some water from his hair. “At least we’re cooled off now, that’s for sure.” 

Unfazed by the frigid lake (probably because he was one of those ‘refreshing!’ people), Eren opened his arms for you. He had this inviting warmth about him, his hand doing that thing you discovered you liked, swirling circles against your lower back. That was the only convincing you needed to stay a while longer. Maybe, just maybe, you’d even say the water felt all right. 

You burrowed your face into the curve of his shoulder and kissed him there, simply because you couldn’t help yourself. Your mouth slipped and slid over his wet skin, and it pulled a raspy sound from him. His fingertips skirted up the side of your thigh to hitch your leg around his waist. He lifted you effortlessly, sealing your body against his. 

You felt light in the head and weightless in the water, so much so you even believed you’d float away if you weren’t careful. You locked your ankles around the small of Eren’s back, holding onto him like a seahorse does to coral. 

When Eren had imagined this moment—not the naked-in-the-lake thing but confessing—he thought it might feel debilitating. Like cracking his chest wide open to hand you his heart, essentially permitting you to do with it as you pleased. Admittedly dramatic, but he couldn’t remember the last time he’d been here and felt like this. He didn’t want to risk losing it. 

But there was something underlying, unsaid, behind your gaze. Something Eren wasn’t sure he could name—if the words even existed—but disarmed him. That unique talent of yours. It had him casting aside the armor he’d collected over the years and handing you his sword. Like you were seeing him for the first time, and him you. Yes, you were naked with sopping-wet hair clinging to your face, but even after he smoothed the strands back, the vulnerability remained. 

On a hearted breath, Eren said, “I need to get something off my chest,” and it sent a rush through you, capturing your full attention. “Before someone pops out of the forest or lightning strikes, knowing our luck.” 

You glanced at the clear sky overhead. “If lightning strikes us tonight, then the universe must really not want us to get together.”

Eren chuckled. He unwrapped one of your arms from his neck and held up your hand. He ran his thumb over your bracelet and said, “As you’ve probably put together by now, Falco didn’t make this bracelet for you.” 

“I may have put it together,” you said, a little sweet, a little like a smart-ass. 

“And I was the one—am the one with a crush on you. Not because of this,” Eren gave you a once-over, referencing this and everything else you’d done together, “but before that. When I first saw you. I haven’t been able to keep my eyes off you since.”

Eren caressed your cheek, then cupped your chin. “I know I’m doing this backwards but. . .” He tilted your face either way, placing a kiss against each of your temples. “I want to take you out, actually spend some time with you and get to know you, when we’re back at school. I don’t want this to end here.”

Heat flared in your core and spread through you like wildfire. “I don’t want this to end here, either,” you whispered. You meant it too, even proved it by pressing your forehead to his assuringly. 

You could feel Eren’s smile when he went to kiss you, how it deepened after you started kissing him back. His large hand cradled the back of your head, holding you close even as you mumbled into his mouth, “You’re hard again.”

“Just ignore it.” 

Eren’s mouth sought yours again, but you lightly dodged him. He eased back enough that you could see his face more clearly, but you only focused on the desire hazing his eyes.

Just ignore it, he said, but his glossy eyes said otherwise.

Just ignore it, but it was difficult to do so when it was pressing against your inner thigh. When he could push inside of you right then, completely unhindered. With just a slight wiggle of your hips, a quick and easy thrust of his. 

“What if,” you whispered on a sharp breath, brows beginning to furrow like you might cry if he didn’t fuck you then, “I can’t.”

You felt his heartbeat drumming against your chest, just as he could undoubtedly feel yours. The sting of cold water, the thistly heat between your legs—each climbed up your spine and heightened your every sense, like live wires just beneath your skin. 

And when he kissed you, you swore no one had ever kissed you like that before. Rough and needy, yet slow, even sensual, as he tasted you—your tongue, your teeth. Your bottom lip as he gave it a harsh suck. It was the kind of kiss that stole your breath but replaced it too, filling you to your very brim. With nothing left in your lungs except for Eren’s breath. 

There was a moment you truly believed you might get high off him, as if it were even possible. You felt the world shift below you, turn you around, only to realize it was him walking you back toward shore.

You didn’t stop kissing until you reached the dock. Your back bumped up against it, and you parted from one another in a gasp. Eren lifted you by the underarms and placed you atop the edge. With hands planted on either side of you, he hoisted himself up next. Water splashed across your lap as he crawled over top of you, laying you back into the puddle he’d made. 

When the breeze hit you, all of you, your teeth started to chatter, half-shivering, half-burning as Eren caged you between his arms. Water beaded at the tip of his nose and dripped onto your cheek.

You giggled, as the situation rightfully called for, but there was a shakiness to your voice as you teased, “Are we about to fuck on an old dock?” 

“If that’s what you want,” Eren said, his lips giving way to a toothy smile. You nod, smiling too, and hooked your legs around his waist. “Then yes, we’re about to fuck on an old dock.” A shudder racked through him as your thighs tightened, and he lowered his mouth to yours. “So long as it doesn’t give out.”

It was the two of you, soaked to the bone, decorated in goosebumps and smelling of lake water. It was cold and dark and the last place on Earth you expected to be. It was a lot of things, but ‘romantic’ wasn’t one of them. Or at least, it shouldn’t have been romantic, but your heart skipped a beat just the same. 

It also just so happened to be very, very hot. 

“Condom?” you asked. Eren reached an arm over your head and snagged his shorts. From the pocket, he pulled out the foil and tore it open with his teeth. Before you knew it, he’d rolled it onto himself and mounted you again. 

His tip rubbed up and down your slit as he fixed himself comfortably above you. You snaked a hand down to guide his cock. Your fingers went slick with lube as you took hold of him, looking him in the eyes while he put it in. 

Eren’s hips tilted into yours, pushing in deeper, making room for himself. He was more patient than you’d imagined, letting you learn the stretch, the fullness. The weight of him inside you. 

You were flush together, his pelvis smushed against the backs of your thighs, and it sent a shiver pulsing through you. You both felt it and took a pause. You adjusted to the feel of him brushing against what felt like the bottom of your stomach, while he closed his eyes to collect himself—or else he’d finish before even getting started.

He took his time sliding out of you. He savored how your cunt squeezed each part of him on his way out. Even better was when he pumped back into you, how it made your back arch for him. You lifted from the dock, and he seized the opportunity to slip his hand beneath you. This time, when he thrust back inside, he pulled you down with him, onto him, making sure you really felt it. 

“Oh—oh!” you moaned. 

You threw your arms over his shoulders and buried your face in his chest. You rocked with him, meeting every snap of his hips, mewling a broken series of oh god, oh god. But you could hardly hear yourself—hardly hear Eren over the wild creaks from the wood below you as he groaned, “You feel—fucking amazing.” 

He breathed the words right above your ear with a voice like thunder, low and rumbly in your chest. It tickled every little hair, making them stand on end. 

“I can’t believe we’re doing this—shit.” He hissed when you kicked your leg higher, helping him reach a new, better angle. “That you’re letting me fuck you right now.”

To have you there, below him, your arms and legs weaving into him like you’d never let go—he thought it must be a dream. 

You almost couldn’t believe it either. You trailed your clammy fingers down between your legs and felt where he split you, over and over and over. He felt so good when he was touching you, licking you—when he was fucking you. He was the only thing on your mind, yet the only response you could give him was a small sob as your head lolled back. 

Eren’s nose brushed your temple. He spoke against the side of your face as he warned, “You’re gonna make me come if you keep doing that.” 

That being the way you held onto the base of his cock like you wanted to milk him into you. He even moaned when your grip firmed.

“You—fuck—you want me to come. Don’t you?” 

You did. You wanted to watch his eyes roll back, see how his face looked when it was screwed up in pleasure. You wanted his body to spasm above you, and you wanted to feel it and know you were its cause. You wanted him to feel half as good as he made you feel thirty minutes ago, devouring you within a thread of consciousness. 

“Please,” you begged. Eren fucked you harder. “I want you to—”

You cut out on an airless cry. The sound was replaced by the slap of skin-on-skin, wet because you hadn’t even tried to dry yourselves off. It was relentless, but it wasn’t his orgasm he was bullying toward. 

Eren could feel you around him, tensing and easing, throbbing like you had a second heartbeat in your pussy. He knew you were as close as he was. 

“I want you to come, too,” he told you, half-chuckling through gritted teeth. “But I need you to come first—to make up for lost time.”

The last thing you’d expected was to come like this. Usually, the feat required a bit more time, concentration—and rarely ran the risk of splinters.

But you were extremely sensitive from his tongue on you earlier. You came and all the blood had rushed between your legs, then it never really left. He’d let it simmer long enough until you were ready to boil over. Just hearing how hungry he was for it, to feel you come on his cock, had the feeling winding itself in your gut, quick and tight, only for you to unravel again right before his eyes. 

“I’m coming,” you whispered. Louder, more frantically, you panted, “Ohmygod, I’m coming. Don’t stop, Eren. Please.”

“Wasn’t planning on it.” Eren wanted to chuckle again, but he’d choke if he tried. His voice was strangled, all caught up in his throat. He thought he’d forgotten how to breathe when you plead his name—he’d never thought it could sound like that. 

“Say that again,” he gruffed. He was right there with you, staving off his climax but fucking you through yours, anyway. “Say my name again.”

“Ah—Eren,” you pushed out on your exhale, drawing out the last syllable impossibly long; the last breath before you fell limp and lazy in his hold. 

Eren let himself go then, finally. With a groan ripped from the back of his throat, his hips sputtered and lost their rhythm. His cock stuffed you full one final time, biceps quivering like he couldn’t hold himself up any longer. 

He breathed hard a few times; you counted the breaths. One, two, three, four—

“Holy fuck,” Eren cursed, muddled, his voice still thick. 

Holy fuck was right. 

Eren stared at you, and you at him. Neither of you had the ability to say what was on your mind, but you already knew what the other was thinking: Did that just happen? 

Yes, it did. And it might have been some of the best sex you’ve had in your life. Right on this dock. You would think to pinch yourself to double-check you were awake if not for the air nipping your skin as Eren got off of you. 

You straightened out to sit beside him. Keeping close, you welded yourself to his side. You snuck your arm beneath his, pressed your cheek into his arm. You held him like that until your breathing evened out, and you felt ready to look at him again. 

He had an easy look on his face; a soft, one-sided smile that made your insides turn to goo. He placed a hand on your thigh, warming the top of it with his palm. 

You didn’t know who would break the silence first: you, him, or some third thing he’d listed earlier, like a bolt of lightning. 

“I’ve been wanting to do that for so long.”

You were surprised to hear yourself say it. Something that was supposed to stay a secret inside your head, yet slipped from you in a quiet confession. 

Eren laughed once. Just an amused huff through his nose. If you had any clue how long he’d been wanting this. . . 

He thought back to that day in your cabin, how exhilarating and nerve-racking and wonderful and awfully awkward it was. He leaned back like he was inspecting you, then rifled a hand through your hair. 

“How’s your head, by the way?” He asked, grinning widely. “You smacked it pretty hard on that bunk bed, you know.”

It teased a laugh from you. You playfully nudged him away, and he laughed harder than before. His shoulders shook with him but didn’t stop even after his laughter settled. 

“You’re freezing,” you commented. You were partially right, but it wasn’t just the cold. He was still vibrating from excitement, from his adrenaline. But that sweaty, sticky tent didn’t sound half bad right now, either. 

Eren nodded. “Let’s head back.” 

He stood with his hands out for you to take. You smiled up at him as you grabbed onto each one.

“So,” you said as you pulled yourself up, with a newfound spring in your step. “Where’s our first date going to be?” 

The corners of his lips crooked up. “I don’t know. You tell me.”

You hummed in thought as you walked the dock together. "What's your favorite kind of food?"

"Thai," Eren answered without missing a beat.

"Thai sounds good."

“Well, wait,” he hurried out like he’d been left out of a crucial decision. “What’s yours?”

You answered as you gathered the clothes you’d littered across the beach. You didn’t have the forethought to bring a towel (for obvious reasons), so you’d have to make do with soggy shorts and a t-shirt until you were back in your tent. 

You realized, while stepping into your underwear, that this was the first thing you knew about him: Eren liked Thai food. 

Actually, you knew where he liked to be kissed, and that he liked Thai food, but you didn’t know much else. You didn’t know his birthday or the town he grew up or even—

“Eren.”

He perked in attention. Already in his shorts, he waited on you to get dressed, trying to look anywhere but at you getting dressed. To see you with such a bemused expression out of nowhere worried him. 

“What’s your major?” you asked.

He gave a warm laugh that made you relax your shoulders, no matter how chilly you thought you were.

“Sports medicine,” Eren replied as he came in close. He looked at you with eyes you could get lost in, never veering off even as his hand wormed its way into yours.

You followed his touch, glancing down to see your fingers interlaced—the hands you had locked together, each adorned in white and turquoise.

“And I can tell you all about it at the restaurant of your choosing.”

thank you so very much for reading <3

𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔… is the best racer in all of japan.

he's iconic the moment he steps into the view of the camera. recognized by his pearly white hair and pretty eyelashes that flutter like the wings of an angel. you can find him on the cover of the most recent fashion magazines and internet blogs in japan— he's the hottest topic right now no matter the platform.

the crowd is growing as he pulls up in his sleek silver car, indigo accents shimmering and catching the eyes of everyone around. heads instantly snap in his direction, and some sort of smug satisfaction fills him as he pulls up. it's only natural he feels this way; he just won first place after all. his black gloved hand runs over the wheel before he comes to a stop, revving the engine once before parking and stepping out of the car. he is nothing short of expensive and lavish, a man of high class and charisma. gojo "undefeated winner on the track ever since he started this sorta thing" satoru is a dream, and when he talks, people listen.

you swallow hard as you take in his presence, knees buckling as you try to match the man's confidence.

you— a senior university student who had a day off and decided to check out all the commotion a few blocks down from campus. you were an art student, sketchbook settled in your arms filled with messy graphite sketches of cars and portraits of people that came to these events. you didn't know a goddamn thing about race cars, and you definitely did not know about the hot men that drove them.

too busy in your own world, you miss the way you catch his curious, iridescent ocean eyes.

"you curious, princess? come a little closer. i don't bite." he chuckles, and it takes a moment before you realize he's talking to you.

oh.

oh.

"me?" you ask with widened eyes. there were multiple people around you— and he was referring to you out of all of them? you tilt your head a bit to check if he was talking to someone behind you perhaps.

gojo finds your reaction amusing.

"yeah, you." he confirms, words rolling off of his tongue like a purr. he leans against his car, muscles rippling under his leather race jacket in the shade charcoal. you swallow hard before approaching the man.

"what's your name?" gojo asks out of genuine curiosity. his car shifts as he straightens up a bit in your presence. the man towers over you with ease.

you tell him your name, wondering if the sunlight is making you feel hot under your clothes or if it's just him. you take a nervous breath.

"congrats on winning, by the way." you smile kindly, trying to get as many words as possible out before your throat goes entirely dry.

"and how'd a sweet thing like you know i'd won?" he gives you a cocky little smirk. "you a fan?"

"not necessarily. i'm just a student here in tokyo. i'm designing your next car wrap and working on a new brand for you, and i thought it would be nice to meet the man behind the wheel." you reply with a soft laugh, gazing up at him with something that feels a lot like warm fondness.

"you're a student here?" he tilts his head. "what are you studying?"

"graphic design."

gojo blinks, and you've caught him off guard this time.

"and you're the one designing my new wrap?" he asks, letting it sink in for a moment before he speaks again. "like... a personal designer?"

"something like that." you smile.

"you have no idea how much i'll enjoy having you around."

"do you tell all of your new designers that?" you laugh, trying to avoid the flutter of butterflies in your stomach.

"of course not, only you."

before you can respond, a man with long, black hair jogs over, magenta helmet tucked under a strong arm. equally as handsome as gojo himself.

"satoru," the man purrs, gaze catching yours for a second before he turns back to the white-haired man. "time to go mingle with higher ups."

"right now, suguru?" gojo's smile falls a bit. he does have to keep his sponsors happy, much to his irritation. he motions to you with his head, and the black-haired man chuckles.

gojo gives you an apologetic glance; he's not ready to let you go just yet. he doesn't chase anyone or anything, but for you, he was willing to if it meant getting to speak to you a little longer.

"no, no— it's alright. i was heading out soon anyways. it was nice meeting you, gojo." you smile up at him, giving the racer by his side a polite grin as well before departing.

a lazy laugh escapes the white-haired man as you walk away, and that's all it takes for gojo to make up his mind.

he's gonna need you to draw him like one of your french girls.

© YUNYMPHS 2024 modifications, reposts, and translations of any kind are strictly prohibited. do not copy, steal themes, or recommend account on other platforms.

23:30 | Bakugou Katsuki

cw: new parent bakugou and reader, alludes to infertility issues but never explicitly stated, sappy and soft and i’m ovulating and i miss my estranged ex husband bakugou katsuki.

“It’s weird isn’t it?”

You tense briefly at the sound of Katsuki’s hoarse voice, relaxing almost immediately at the sight of him resting in the doorway of your son’s nursery. He looks so handsome like this. Pajama pants slung low, arms crossed with a sleepy grin as he stares at his world.

“What’s weird?”

You keep your voice low, bouncing your son lightly when he stirs in his sleep. Katsuki approaches you quietly, pressing a kiss to your neck before resting his chin on your shoulder.

“That we have him— that he’s here. So much waiting, hoping, begging for him to exist. And here he is. Ours.”

“Ours,” you agree softly, thumb squishing your son’s cheeks lightly, “though it should be a crime I went through so much, just for him to look identical to you.”

Katsuki barks out a laugh, eyes never straying from your son.

“Nah, he looks like you,” he whispers softly, “his nose curves like yours. Has the same birth mark as you too. Even stretches when he wakes up the same way you do when you’re sleepy.”

The room is quiet, and you bask in the comfort of it. Calloused hands wrap around you, Katsuki’s strong figure swaying in time with you.

“I’ll always protect you. Both of you.”

There’s a finality in it. A promise; an oath.

“I know.”

Your son coos in his sleep as if agreeing, and a warm drop falls on your skin.

“Sing that song,” he croaks, “the one you sing to me. It’s my favorite.”

Soft hums fill the room, the sun rises outside, a trickle of sunlight beams through the curtains. There’s a surety in it; a day ends, another begins, and Bakugou Katsuki’s world sways to the sound of your voice.

⋆.° Swaddled in Silk ୨ৎ

𝐂𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐮𝐬 𝐒𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐗 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐘𝐨𝐮’𝐫𝐞 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐮𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐣𝐨𝐲𝐞𝐝. 𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐠𝐧𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐲 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐠𝐫𝐮𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲, 𝐚 𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞 𝐨𝐫 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡, 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐢𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮.

𝐓𝐖: 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐠𝐧𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐲 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬, 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐬 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐛𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐬 𝐠𝐚𝐮𝐧𝐭, 𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧, 𝐞𝐭𝐜., 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐢𝐧 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐛𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐡 (𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬𝐧𝐭 𝐝𝐢𝐞!), 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐕𝐘 𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐒𝐓

𝐍𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭

Little note: reader doesn’t get the abortion not because of pro-life beliefs, but because of personal wishes, this is NOT an anti-abortion sentiment!! Very much pro choice over here!!!!

Mornings tended to be peaceful with Coriolanus.

Your eyes would flutter open, the pale skin of your husband’s bare neck and chest cast in golden morning sunshine the first thing you see. You’d shift, groaning softly at the morning aches and nosing the crook of his neck, grateful he’s a light sleeper when his strong arms wrap tighter around you.

Technically, Coryo had his own room in the Presidential mansion. But he’d admitted to you in soft words late into the night, long ago, that he couldn’t sleep without you.

So you’d wake up in his arms, him holding you close as if somebody would take you from him. You found it endearing, just how possessive Coriolanus was over you. It wasn’t just in the way he held you; it was in the way he made sure you looked and felt your best at every event, so that he hold a hand on your waist and boast his wife’s beauty. It was in the way he spoiled you in just about every aspect, dipping you in diamonds and rubies, keeping your appearance manicured with days at the spa, keeping your every need satisfied, physical or emotional. Doting on you the best he could while running the damn country, loving you like a good husband should.

Except that his love was a bit inconvenient at the moment, as you tried to move from his arms and his grip only tightened. You felt a recognizable bile rising up, a sick feeling taking over your gut. Coriolanus grumbled, his brows drawing and eyes impossibly more blue in the morning as they opened a crack. “Darling..? Where…”

You peeled his arms away from you, and this time Coryo let you go. His expression was twisted in confusion as you jumped to your feet, hand clasped over your mouth as you beelined for the bathroom connected to the bedroom. Oh. He stumbled out of bed, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and making his way to the bathroom to soothe you. He picked up the pace as he heard you retching.

Coriolanus knelt beside you, gathering up your smooth tresses and holding the hair back from your face in a ponytail. His other hand rubbed your back with a strong palm. “There you go, there you go. Get it out.”

God, you wouldn’t be surprised if you threw up an intestine. It felt like eternity before you got everything out of your system. “Sorry.” You croaked, wincing and sitting back on your calves.

“Why are you sorry? You can’t control it.” Coryo cooed, the hand holding your hair moving to the side of your head and pressing a kiss to your crown. His forehead creased after a moment though, he leaned away to grab you a towel. He watched you wipe your mouth before speaking hesitantly. “My love?”

“Mhm.” You hummed, swallowing hard and grimacing at the sour taste on your tongue.

“Do you think you ate something bad?” Coryo murmured, his voice suddenly dropping to a whisper. You met his eyes. You knew what he was really asking.

You pressed your lips thoughtfully. “I don’t know.” It seemed unlikely, you weren’t one to get sick at a whim. And you’d eaten rather healthy yesterday.

You two had been.. trying. To say the least. Coriolanus was very eager for a family, as were you. Baby fever actually had a strong hold on you. But you hadn’t realized how difficult it would be. Coryo and you went to the best doctor he could get his hands on, and his meticulous nature led to keeping track of your schedule, the windows where you’d be most fertile. You never grew tired of intimacy with him, but every negative test was daunting. Every vitamin and supplement was growing tiring to keep tabs on.

For months this went on. You couldn’t help feeling that you were failing Coriolanus. He wanted a baby so terribly, and your body just wouldn’t seem to work with you. Whispers were beginning to spread around high society women, questioning why a marriage of four years had yet to produce babies. You were questioning it yourself.

“My love, it’s okay.” Coryo had cooed, folding you into his arms the first night you’d cried to him about the cruel gossip about your marriage and your “failings” as a wife. He shook his head passionately, showering you with kisses. “I love you. A baby will come in time.”

You’d sniffled, burying your face and hiding your eyes into his chest. “But why won’t it come now? We’ve been doing everything right, Coryo, at this point it has to be me.”

Coryo sighed, his arms squeezing you tighter. You were perfect in his eyes, whether or not your body was sustaining a baby didn’t matter to him. He loved you regardless, and he told you so. “Just trust me. You’ll get pregnant when time is right for us. I love you, we have plenty of time.” Coriolanus took your chin in his fingers, tilting up your chin to press his lips to your forehead tenderly.

It seemed that the time was finally right for you. A broad smile spread over Coriolanus’ lips, his hands moving to cup your cheeks. You laughed a bit breathlessly.

“I’ll call the doctor.” Coryo cooed, pressing his lips between your brows. He hummed against your forehead, murmuring after a moment, “I love you. You know that?”

“I know.” You breathed, finding his bare arm and squeezing it affectionately as he pulled away. “I love you.”

The moments the words “You’re pregnant, Mrs. Snow,” slipped from the doctors lips, Coriolanus was changing gears.

He was coaxing you into coming with him to buy baby clothes the very next day. The day after that, you discovered that one of the rooms neighboring your bedroom was being renovated into a nursery. Coryo was delighted when a package he sent his secretary for came in, he’d hurried to find you wherever you’d been and showed you a box full of brand new baby toys. Plush bears, rattles, another large box holding a rocking chair; you wondered how your baby would even get around to using it all.

“You’re spoiling it before it’s even born!” You teased one day as he happily presented a soft muslin baby blanket.

“Damn right.” Coryo had smiled broadly, pressing a kiss to your cheekbone, correcting you, “I’m spoiling her.”

“Girls?” You cocked a brow, slipping a hand into his gelled-locks and probably messing up his styling. He didn’t care. “I’m confident it’s a girl, my love. And I live to spoil my girls.”

His attention didn’t only apply to the baby. You were his top priority these days; he took more time away from his work to dote on your every whim. Coryo was holding your hair back every morning you fell ill. He constantly was taking you shopping, making sure that your maternity clothes weren’t frumpy or ugly, but made you feel beautiful. He had the cooking staff preparing every craving you had.

But sooner than later, pregnancy proved itself to be difficult.

No matter what Coryo did, no matter what doctors he called in or what home remedies he found, you just wouldn’t get healthy. You were wasting away before his eyes. Your ribs jutted out from your sides, your face becoming gaunt and hollow. You simply couldn’t stomach food.

Coriolanus had never been more terrified than when a simple common flu had bedridden you for days. Your immune system was so weakened by your pregnancy, and nothing seemed to help. You looked deathly pale, just the sight of you was enough to bring Coryo to tears. Though he never let you see his distress.

But dear God, he couldn’t lose you. You were scaring him, with that resigned glint in your eyes. As if you knew, and were comfortable with dying. Coriolanus was the furthest thing from comfortable.

At night, he’d run his hands along your ribs, his nose brushing yours as he watched your eyes. They’d be peacefully shut, your breathing calm from his soothing touch. Coriolanus’ hand would always end up on your belly, his thumb rubbing along the gentle curve of it under your night slip. You were featherlight nowadays, when you should’ve been full and glowing.

When your dizzy spells became too powerful to handle without laying down, Coryo called in the doctor again. He wanted a baby with you, he didn’t want this. If he knew that this would’ve been so taxing on your body, he never would’ve done this to you.

That’s how he comforted himself as the doctor left the room, leaving you to sit on the chaise at the foot of your bed and Coryo to pace about, his fingers on his lips and his eyes buggy. You’d just been warned.

This baby was life or death. If you gave birth, you might not survive. It was simply a genetic condition in your family. Nothing to be done. Except..

“We’re getting rid of it.” Coriolanus announced firmly, shaking his head. You lifted your face.

You gawked at your husband. “No!” You huffed, eyes darting around to avoid another bout of tears. Your hands were wrung in your lap, squeezing tight to the point of your knuckles paling. “Don’t even suggest it.”

“I’m not suggesting it, I’m telling you. My love, we are not keeping this baby.” Coriolanus stepped closer, standing in front of you. He outstretched his hand to tilt your chin with a finger, his eyes glimmering with something adamant.

You shook your head, grabbing Coryo’s wrist and squeezing. Your brows pinched up at him. “You aren’t serious. You can’t— you can’t force me. It’s my body.”

Your husbands expression melted like ice in a heatwave, his eyes softening. He snuck his hand around to hold yours in a tight grip. “I won’t force you. I..” Coriolanus sighed in exasperation, moving to sit beside you. His tone was earnest and as kind as he could muster. “But I can’t let you do this.”

“It’s our baby, Coryo.” You pleaded, the hand not holding his coming to rest on your belly defensively. How could he contradict himself so greatly, telling you it was your choice while making it sound like his word was final, as always?

“It will kill you.” Coriolanus hissed, suddenly to his wits end with you. His brow creased, his lips pulling over his teeth in a sneer. He shook his head adamantly. “My love, I won’t lose you for—for it.”

You couldn’t help the lump rising in your throat, making breathing suddenly quite a task. “For her.” You corrected him this time.

Coriolanus sighed, letting go of your hand and pushing himself to his feet. He had to loosen his tie, the red article suddenly suffocating. You helplessly watched him pace, rubbing his forehead in frustration. “It would be okay. I’ve already lived, I think she should get a chance.”

The absurdity of your words brought a humorless snort from Coryo’s nose. He shook his head but seemed so absorbed in his thoughts that he didn’t reply, so you went on. “And you’d have a piece of me, anyway! Coryo, you’d love her so much it’d outweigh whatever grief you’d have, you’d be so happy I went through with it, because you’d get a baby out of—“

Coriolanus was staring at you with wide and buggy eyes, as if you’d suggested he eat you alive. “How dare you say that?” Your husband snapped, stepping towards you with purpose. “How could you think I’d be able to tolerate, let alone love this baby if it killed you?” His nostrils flared in frustration and in his shining sapphire eyes, a wild kind of hurt.

At the sight of the tears welling in Coryo’s eyes, you couldn’t resist reaching for his hands with both of yours. He let you take them, he rubbed his thumbs over the backs of your hands— the ridges of your increasingly apparent bones under his fingers only adding to the wetness in his eyes. “Please.” Coriolanus murmured after a moment, his brows drawing together and creasing his forehead. “Please, my love. We can get a doctor who’ll abort it, no matter what trimester. Please.”

God, he made it sound so easy. Like it was just a procedure. It wasn’t, not to you. You desperately wanted this baby, you couldn’t just wake up to a morning without its life within you.

Perhaps he could see the indecision in your eyes. He squeezed your hands. “Please. I can’t lose you.”

You couldn’t look Coriolanus in the eyes as you shook your head. “I’m keeping it.”

You kept your gaze fixed on his dress shoes, the leather freshly polished and shiny. You didn’t look up to see the way he wiped his eyes with his knuckles, his nostrils flaring and throat bobbing. You only knew that his hands slipped from yours, his footsteps were departing from you, the door falling shut behind him.

Your due date was nearing. Coriolanus took more time to be with you, masterfully hiding the sadness behind his eyes as you mentioned anything baby-related. You thought he’d distance himself.

Completely the opposite. Though every conversation about the baby brought on a nasty argument, Coryo wasn’t too big a fool to know that you needed him right now. Regardless of his constant reminders that you two could simply adopt, you could go the surrogacy route, anything to keep you alive, you denied him. You were determined to give him a baby of his own from your body.

But no matter how many fights he’d resolve by folding you into his arms, cooing an apology and petting your hair, he knew he would never love the baby that’ll take you away from him.

Coriolanus couldn’t bear watching you waste away like this. This wasn’t what he wanted. He wanted his wife to be glowing, to be happy and full with his baby— he didn’t want to choose between his child and you. He would choose you, if you let him.

Still. You tried to maintain normalcy.

Maybe it was nature, a maternal instinct implanted deep within you, but you were willing to die for this baby. You couldn’t describe it to Coriolanus if you tried. You felt a strange calm, in the weeks leading up to the baby’s birth. Knowing that one might die, being aware of one’s expiration date, well, it was eye-opening. You took to writing down your thoughts, writing down messages to your daughter. You were still quite certain she was a she, though you were keeping the sex a surprise. Oh, you had so much to tell her!

When you told Coryo about the journal, he’d smiled gently and nodded, humming that it was a darling idea. But he left the room a minute later, coming back with eyes rubbed pink.

You were aware of how much of a toll it was taking on Coryo. But you knew it was best. You knew he deserved a baby. You deserved the pride of giving that life to him, to the world.

One day, you’d been helping your maid with folding your clothes and the towels for your bathroom. You’d insisted you help, especially because you loved to chat with her.

You were laughing with her, listening to a story she was telling. You were listening, until you felt an indescribable pain in your lower half. You’d winced, clutching the towel you’d been folding, looking down at yourself and holding your belly with your other hand.

“Mrs. Snow?” Your maid’s voice was full of concern. “Is it—“

“I don’t know.” You gasped, the pain washing over you like a wave, and leaving just as fast as it had come. “Do you think..”

“I’ll call the doctor.” She rose to her feet hesitantly, eyes wide as if you were a time bomb in her hands. You could almost laugh at her expression.

You nodded. “Don’t rush, it might not be—“ you proved yourself wrong as an immense pain knocked the words from your mouth. You fold over, groaning, and sending your maid bolting for the phone.

You’d certainly underestimated childbirth.

It was absolutely the most painful experience of your life. If you hadn’t been afraid of death up until now, you definitely were now. It was a terrifying pain, a terrifying feeling knowing that while most women were strong enough to withstand such a natural pain, you might not be.

An ambulance came to bring you from the presidential mansion to the hospital. The entire ride, screams and tears filled the tiny vehicle. You’d begged for someone to call Coriolanus, the prospect of doing this without him was daunting and downright petrifying.

When you got to the hospital room, Coryo was there, dress-shirt disheveled and hair ungelled. He’d been working at the office today. You thanked every god out there for him, as he squeezed your hand and smoothed back your hair, doing his very best to hide his fear. Your screams wrung his heart, he made sure to wipe your tears and kiss your sweaty brow.

“You’re doing great, my love.” Coriolanus cooed, letting you squeeze his hand until he was numb. You’d whimpered, the pain subsiding and crashing over you again like an ocean wave.

You’d wailed to kingdom come. “I don’t want to die, Coryo!” You’d groaned. He was grateful you weren’t paying much attention to his face, your eyes on the ceiling, otherwise you would’ve seen the way your pleading broke him.

Coryo squeezed your hand, wiping his eyes on his sleeve. “You won’t. You’ll be fine, darling, you’re doing everything right.” He’d promised, voice as assured as he could manage.

Another thing you underestimated was how stupid long the whole ordeal was.

Atleast another hour ticking by meant another hour you were alive. But it also meant another hour of searing pain, the feeling of your body betraying you and ripping itself open, tears wetting your cheeks and wails parting your lips.

Suddenly, it was like all that intense cramping and sharp pains were alleviated in a moment. As if some divine being had graciously lifted you off a bed of nails. Woozily, you lifted your head to see the baby in the nurse’s hands, another nurse cutting the ambilical cord. God, did it look rough, but it was yours. It was beautiful. You immediately reached for your baby, eyes bleary and voice hoarse, “I want to hold it.”

As if anybody would deny the First Lady. Oh, you could bawl as they lowered the baby onto your chest, who was actually bawling and crying. You laughed a bit breathlessly, eyes lifting to Coriolanus. His eyes were wide, bluer than you’d ever seen them, perhaps from the shine to them. But he’d never let his tears escape his eyes, blinking them away to lay a hand on his baby’s head, smiling stupidly.

“I made this.” You breathed, staring down at the little thing. The baby, that you glanced down to find was a girl. Your daughter.

Coriolanus nodded, pressing a lingering kiss to your temple. You could hear the smile in his voice. “You’re so strong, my love. So strong.”

“And I’m alive.” You laughed, so focused on your daughter than you didn’t notice Coryo’s sidelong glance to the sheer amount of blood between your legs. He caught the eye of a nurse, who’d given him a curt nod.

Coriolanus let out the breath he’d been holding for the past two months. “I’m infinitely grateful.” He spoke softly, reverently. He was afraid that if he said any more, he wouldn’t be able to stop.

“Isn’t she pretty?” You sighed, looking up to meet your husband’s eye. Coryo just shook his head, smiling to the point that his eyes crinkled— speaking of which, they were welling up again.

“Beautiful.” He cooed. “What’re we calling her?” Coriolanus said that last bit in a breathy chuckle, squeezing your arm gently as a nurse moved to take the baby to be cleaned. You two had spoken about names before, but never decided on something definite.

You stared after your daughter, your tears drying on your cheeks and the pain twixt your legs fading into the background. Your heart was beating, your chest rising and falling. You were alive. Oh, you went from resigning to never feel the swell of your lungs with air to filling them as much as possible.

“Ruby, I think.” You breathed. A name that Coryo had suggested, long ago, perhaps in the first months of your pregnancy. A broad smile tiptoed across his lips as he smoothed down your hair.

Coryo nosed your cheekbone, not minding the sweat lingering on your skin from the whole ordeal, mumbling against you, “A gem.”

“A gem.” You agreed, turning your cheek to press your lips to his. Oh, how you loved him. Your husband. Your lover. The father of your baby. You know he’ll be the best father— doting, loving, protective..

If the way he clutched onto your arm as you kissed, his eyes and grip betraying his anxiety was any indication of how much he cared for you, how terrified he was to lose you? Then you’d married the right man.

If the way he dutifully fluffed your pillows and got his hands on a sleeping mask was a gesture of his love? You were set for life.

If the way his sapphire eyes shone with admiration, with affection and devotion for your little daughter, swaddled in silk in her crib was a testament to the father Coriolanus would be?

Then Ruby was a lucky little girl. You were certainly a lucky woman.