#also it's half 1 in the morning and i am not looking forward to trying to get up for classes tomorrow but there we are

[painless-innit-colourful]

Prophets

(1.4k words, no tws, read it here or on my ao3)

But other than the maths of the situation, there’s another nagging thought that tugs at Tubbo's attention, even as Tommy stumbles over the door jam, cursing up a storm, looking far too bouncy for his last day.

He’s seen this before.

With twenty-one hours and counting down until Tubbo sends his best friend to his death, Tubbo reflects on the choice he's going to make and the nagging feeling that he couldn't have prevented it. Meanwhile, Tommy is thinking eerily of the same thing. It's been a year since this stream broke my heart, and I'm going to make it everyone else's problem.

---

Seven hundred and fifty-eight. Twenty-one. Approximately thirty, but who really knows. Two.

Tubbo runs the numbers over in his head. Numbers are good. They make sense, they’re reliable: when everything else is going to shit, when he’s living in a nightmare, numbers can be relied upon to always provide the truth. So, making the last bed Tommy will ever sleep in, Tubbo runs over the numbers again.

Seven hundred and fifty-eight fitful nights since the Manberg Festival. Twenty-one hours (though creeping uncomfortably close to twenty) until Tommy dies. Approximately thirty people they’re going to save.

And two. Two people left he cares about.

His son, with his rosy cheeks and eyes so bright - as if they’ve never seen the scarring flash of a firework or been kept warm by the heat of a burning nation. His innocent, undamaged, toddler son, currently tucked away with Techno & Phil in the tundra, where he’ll be safe in the case that anything goes very wrong tomorrow. Which it won’t, because the numbers make sense.

And Tommy.

He weighs two against thirty, twenty-one against seven hundred and fifty-eight. Mathematically, the answer is simple. Save the server. 

Lose Tommy.

But it’s not so simple, is it? Tubbo is dimly aware as he checks on a stew bubbling on the stove, toes and heart numb, that he’s facing an imitation of the trolley problem. Leave the train running, and Dream and Punz kill everyone on the server. Flip the switch, and their enemies (and Tubbo’s best friend) roll right into a waiting nuclear bomb. 

Save the server. Kill your best friend.

Again.

But other than the maths of the situation, there’s another nagging thought that tugs at his attention, even as Tommy stumbles over the door jam, cursing up a storm, looking far too bouncy for his last day. Or perhaps appropriately bouncy. Tubbo wouldn’t know, but Tommy would.

He’s seen this before.

I’m going to spend the rest of my life waiting for you, he wants to say, because that’s another undeniable truth. Let not third time be the charm: even though he’ll know it can’t be true, Tubbo knows there will always be a part of him that just expects Tommy to… turn up someday. Walk ‘round a corner in the new town he might build. Come stumbling across him somewhere out there in the bright, big world.

It’s not fair: truth three. It’s not fair. None of this is fair, nothing has ever been fair to them. The steam curling off the crockpot on the stove brushes against his scar.

Right. Seven-hundred and fifty-eight.

He can’t remember when it started. Somewhere in the mess of definitely-not-painless-and-colourful sparks, wither screams and the trembling of the earth, there was a single speck of blackness in all that light. After dreaming of his second death a hundred times, he started to look into the blazing light, and found it to be masking darkness. So he reached for it. He followed it. He built weapons of mass destruction, made impenetrable fortresses, dug into the earth following the promise of oblivion. Of nothing.

There was a moment, on his arrival to the crater of the original nuke test, when he’d seen a figure at the edge of the crater. The shadow was counting.

Counting down.

After the nuke test, his nightmares changed. They’d always been full of explosions - fireworks, countries, withers - but with the advent of Project Dreamcatcher’s success, they became pseudo-apocalyptic. Tubbo had always chalked it up to obvious anxieties (he stole his own nuke for a reason, y’know) but in the past few hours, a chilling thought occurred to him that won’t leave him alone.

In some of his more recent dreams, he stands at the edge of the world, looking out over a crater that stretches farther than the horizon. There is not a speck of a living thing around, and without a doubt he is alone. Those were the nicer ones. Some of the nightmares were just loud bangs, bright flashes and a cloud of debris and poison a hundred miles high.

He’d imagined the moment of a crucial launch so many times. A triumphant, even victorious feeling. Check-fucking-mate.

Looking at Tommy, falling onto the sofa with a contented grunt, he can’t imagine he’ll feel that tomorrow. The ticking of the clock yanks him away from his old visions. He moves to sit beside Tommy.

Twenty hours to go.

—

Tommy remembers how it felt, last time. The weightlessness, the empty mind grasping for something tangible to hold onto and finding nothing, the feeling of being ripped apart and reassembled like a wayward toddler’s least favourite toy. 

Tommy won’t admit it, would rather march off to the prison right now than admit it, but he’s scared. This time, Wilbur won’t be there. Bastard, he thinks, grimacing, couldn’t even stay dead for me.

He remembers the last time he saw Wil; on that fucking beach with the boat and the book. He’ll never forget the look on Wilbur’s face when he started crying, that uncomfortable halfway between resolute to go without looking back and almost staying for him. Maybe if he’d started crying sooner, he would’ve stayed. Or maybe that would’ve made him leave faster.

At any rate, he doesn’t have to worry about forgetting any of it. Not while alive, at the very least. Since the revive book will be out of commission, he’s staying in limbo for a while longer than thirteen years. A thought occurs: a horrible impression that sends a shiver down his spine. He won’t have Wilbur to talk to this time, but he might well have Dream and Punz. He shuffles closer to Tubbo instinctively, pushing the thought away.

The book. The other thing he can never forget. It’s gone now, ash on the prison floor likely, but the words within will never leave him. It almost makes him laugh to remember. The last words he’ll ever get from Wilbur, and they were that.

“Tommy,” the book read. 

“Do you remember when we were dead together? I told you I knew how far away the end of the known universe was. I may have been being a little dramatic (so unlike me, I know), but my point kinda still stands. I said it was 186,000 or so days away. That’s not that many, really, already, but I was thinking about it a little while ago and I realised I had been counting in limbo days. 620 days. 

Tommy, on November 13th, something really bad is going to happen. It’s part of the reason I knew it was time for me to go home. Hopefully this is enough warning for you. Gather up the things that matter to you - your discs, your pictures, Tubbo - and get as far away as possible. Please trust me on this. Whatever’s coming - it was fuzzy even in limbo, but it’s big and it’s powerful and it’s not good and it’s going to destroy everything you know. It scares the shit out of me, a little bit, if I’m honest.

I’m sorry for leaving. I hope you understand. Stay safe, yeah?

Wilbur.”

Tommy gazes at his best friend’s face, less than a foot from his own, eyes lightly lidded as he dozes. The hand clutched in his built the rocket that’s shortly going to end his life. The boy beside him will be the harbinger of this world’s ultimate destruction.

Tommy’s proud of him, in a weird way.

Yes, Wilbur, I do remember you saying that in limbo, he wants to reply. I thought you were just trying to scare the shit out of me. Anyway, I can’t leave. I have people I have to save. Be the hero everyone always told me I was going to be. Are you proud of me? This is the only way we win. Tubbo gets to grow old with his son this way. Your father and your baby nephew get to live this way. And I don’t have to deal with any more grey hairs or aching limbs this way. I think I’m the lucky one.

Tears prick his eyes and he blinks them away as he presses his face into Tubbo’s hair - which smells very, very faintly floral - listening to his best friend breathing, pulling him back to earth for just a few more hours.

I think I saw it coming too. I think we all did. I’m sorry. I hope you understand.

Tommy closes his eyes, snuggles down into Tubbo’s arms and draws in a long, deep breath. Selfishly, on the plus side, he’ll never have to live without his best friend.

---

Taglist: @fruitpilled @zrenia @spaceheatertrash @quixoticfellows @kinda-late-but-here-though @icyisweird @boomybelovd @thatfriendlyanon @rozugold @ilexdiapason (please ask to be added if you wish :)

[lucyrose191]

I don't know if you're accepting writing requests, but I thought about it just now.

I don't know if you know that people are talking about Sebastian's “possible return” in 2025 with Mercedes. So I thought you could write part 3 of "a shared story"? Sort of like if the two of them came back, their son appeared. Anyway, it's up to you to write, that's all that came to mind.

A SHARED HISTORY: THE RETURN| S.VETTEL

Pairing; Sebastian Vettel x Wife!driver!reader

Summary; With the news of Lewis moving to Ferrari in 2025, the formula one world is in chaos and Mercedes is left to find a driver, why not ask their for their best to return?

Warnings; Lewis is perceived as a bit of a dick.

F1 Master List , Part 1, Part 2

When something was a constant in your life for so long it was hard to part with the routines that came with it which is why Y/N found herself in her and Seb’s home gym at five in the morning even over a year after retiring and only a few months after having a baby.

It was working well in her favour though because with the addition of the working out she did during her pregnancy she pretty much had her body back the way it was pre-baby.

She was scrolling through her phone to try and find a song to start her workout with when she got a notification from her f1 app and her face dropped as she clicked on it.

LEWIS HAMILTON TO JOIN FERRARI IN 2025

The message filled her screen as she simply stared in shock.

Workout forgotten, Y/N turned around and ran up the stairs. "Seb."

She jumped on their bed and aggressively shook him, "Sebastian, wake up!" She whisper shouted, not wanting to wake the baby. "Sebastian!"

He turned his head over to look up at her with half-closed eyes, "what time is it?" He muttered.

"Who cares? Lewis is moving to Ferrari."

That woke him right up, he pulled the top half of his body into a sitting position and forced his eyes fully open, looking at Y/N in disbelief. "What?"

"It’s everywhere, he’s driving for them in 2025."

Seb continued to look at her in shock, "Is he okay? How could he be so stupid?"

His words struck something within Y/N, knowing how rough her husbands time at Ferrari had been, how she had watched his demeanour shrink throughout the years he spent there, how guilty she felt winning near enough every race whilst the love of her life felt like he was getting nowhere.

It also caused her to think about Lewis himself and the things he had said about his team last season, as though Mercedes hadn’t made him who he was and now he was leaving after one particularly rough season. "Apparently he only told the team two days ago," she muttered.

"No," Seb uttered, not believing that Lewis would tell the team only two days before the entire world knew. "Poor Carlos," he added, knowing how Ferrari treated their drivers when they had found a replacement for them.

"You’d think Lewis wouldn’t have taken that seat considering he knows how toxic that environment is, I hope he doesn’t think he’ll be number one driver just because of his experience," Y/N thought aloud.

"He’ll be very disappointed if that’s what he does think," Seb scoffed, the resentment he felt towards Ferrari breaking through, it was hard not to with not only the way they treated him but the way the fans did too. Their refusal to accept that he was in fact not the problem but it’s in fact the poor communication and leadership within the team.

"I think I’ll ring Toto later, it’s four am in England right now, I doubt he’d be impressed if I rang him now." Y/N smirked.

Sebastian smiled "He’ll probably be up with the news being released."

Y/N hummed in agreement before reaching up to push Seb’s hair back from his forehead, "I’m going to go start this workout before Ansel wakes up, you can go back to sleep, sorry for waking you," she leaned forward to press a kiss to his lips.

"It’s okay, liebe." Sebastian laid back down and watched Y/N walk out the their bedroom, there was no chance he was going back to sleep now that she’d woken him up but she didn’t have to know that.

Later in the day.

"Hi, baby!" Y/N cooed to her son who she held in up in the air, loving the loud uncontrollable giggles that he let out. In the past two and a half months he hasn’t lost those beautiful blonde curls he got from Sebastian, bright white coils sprouted in every direction and with his bright blue eyes, baby Ansel would no doubt be a heartbreaker when he was older.

She laid him back down on the floor and tickled his belly, enticing another round of laughter to burst from him. "God I love you so much, you’re so cute."

"Liebe?" Seb walked into the living room with her phone in his hand.

"Yeah, who is it?" Y/N paused her tickling and allowed Ansel to catch his breath.

"Toto," her brows shot up in surprise at Sebastian’s response, she didn’t have to give him a call after all. "I’ll watch him whilst you speak to him," Seb handed her the phone before picking Ansel up from the floor with an over dramatic grunt and leaving the room.

Y/N places the phone against her ear, "Hello?"

"Y/N! Hi, how are you doing?" Toto’s thick Austrian accent sounded through the phone.

"I’m doing amazing, I’d ask you the same question but I’ve seen the news and I can’t imagine you’re doing great," she sympathised.

"It’s been chaotic to say the least," Toto replied honestly, "I only found out two days ago and I was surprised if I’m being honest."

"He only told you two days ago as well?" Y/N was surprised. "I saw that he told the team two days ago but I thought he would’ve told you sooner."

"I thought he would have too but he didn’t, I’m going to be straight with you, Y/N, I am calling for a particular reason."

Y/N stared at the blank wall in front of her, curious as to what he might’ve called for. "Go on…"

"Have you done much training or simulator work since retiring?" Toto asked absentmindedly.

His question shocked her into silence for a moment before replying. "I trained all throughout my pregnancy and I’ve still been training, I’ve cut back on the neck training but other than that it’s remained the same really and I’ve done a bit of simulator work but not much, I haven’t really found the time to keep that up."

"I understand, you’ve probably been very busy with a newborn, it can be hard," Toto said understandingly.

"I think we’ve been lucky to be honest, Ansel’s quite calm."

"I’m going to be blunt here," Toto told her, "what do you think of becoming a seven time world champion?"

Y/N froze completely at his question.

She knew what he was asking but she just couldn’t allow that idea to simmer in her mind, not when it had taken her so long to become content without racing in her life. "I have a son to take off."

"I know," Toto responded, "and I would never ask you to give that up, I understand completely how he is your number one priority, you have a family to take care of and I don’t expect you to put racing above your family but Y/N, you are the best driver Mercedes has ever had and I don’t believe you’ve accomplished everything you could."

"That’s a very big ask, Toto," Y/N released a heavy breath.

"It’s for 2025, you can sit on it until half way through the season but I can promise you if you agree, it will be a championship winning car." The confidence in Toto’s voice was impossible to miss.

"You’ve already started designing it, haven’t you?" She mused.

"Yes, we aren’t taking any chances of losing in 2025, we want you back Y/N, we didn’t want you to leave in the first place. George is a great driver but he’s only been with us one season and he is not number 1 driver ready yet."

"I’ll think about it but I am not promising anything," she iterated, wanting him to acknowledge that the chances of her returning were very very slim.

"I’m glad you’re at least considering it, take as long as you need," Toto repeated his earlier words and Y/N ensured she would be taking all of the time she was given before they bid their goodbyes.

As the call ended, Y/N felt a heavy wait in her chest, the idea of returning to formula one hadn’t even crossed her mind because she never thought the opportunity would even arise and her and Seb were making their family, the family they always wanted.

She pushed the idea out of her mind and pulled herself up from the floor, she walked into the kitchen and began looking through the fridge for ideas on what to make her and Seb for lunch.

"What did he want?"

Y/N jumped and snapped her head to the doorway where Seb was stood, holding a sleeping Ansel against his chest. He frowned at her reaction because she wasn’t one to be easily frightened.

"Uhm," Y/N cleared her throat and closed the fridge. "He was just asking how we were and telling me about the whole Lewis situation, the parts the media didn’t know."

Her response set off alarm bells in Sebastian’s mind that made him thing there was something else, something she hadn’t been anticipating. "Anything else?" He asked,

Y/N swallowed and looked down at the floor, she could never lie to him about anything but especially not something this big. "He, uhm, he asked me to come back. He wants me to drive for Mercedes again."

Sebastian’s hands subconsciously tightened around Ansel’s body at the news, he stood frozen in the doorway with a blank face as he processed what that could mean. "Wow," it was the only word that expressed what he was feeling right now.

Y/N scoffed out a laugh and nodded. "Yeah."

The lost look on her face tugged at Seb’s heart and he stepped across the threshold into the kitchen and walked closer to her. "Would you want to?" He asked in an almost whisper.

Y/N shrugged weakly. "I have no idea," she replied honestly. "When I retired, I felt lost and I thought that feeling would never leave and I convinced myself I had made the worst mistake I could ever make. I had everything, I was still at the height of my career and to suddenly not be racing anymore…. It was hard, you know that, but then Ansel was born and this new life we have made it all worth it to me. I accepted I wouldn’t be going back but now Toto is literally holding out that seat in the palm of his hand and i don’t know what to do."

Sebastian adjusted Ansel so he was holding him in one arm and wrapped the other around Y/N’s shoulder, pulling her into his body. She rested her head against his shoulder and wrapped her arms around her boys, smiling as Seb pressed a kiss to her head. "How long do you have before you need to make a decision?" He asked.

"Until about halfway through the season, I told him I’d probably need every bit of that time," Y/N muttered before looking up at him. "Can I ask you a question?"

Sebastian smirked, "you just did," he teased causing her to roll her eyes. "Go on." He added seriously this time.

"Would you be okay with it if I did say yes? I’m not saying I want to but I definitely wouldn’t if you want things to stay how they are, without all of the travelling."

It was one of the things that truly made their marriage work, they both understood that it was in fact a partnership and would never agree to something that the other person wasn’t a hundred percent on board with.

He thought about her question for a moment before answering. "I didn’t retire because of the travelling, I retired because I wasn’t enjoying it anymore. I wasn’t meant to be a midfield or back of the field driver and that’s the only place I ended up. If you find that you do want to return then Ansel and I will follow you."

The two of them left the conversation there, not speaking of it anymore for the next couple of weeks as Y/N didn’t want to stress herself with feeling the need to make a decision as quick as possible.

February 2024

"OH FUCK OFF!" Y/N groaned loudly the minute she saw Danica Patrick appear on the screen.

Sebastian tilted his head back against the sofa and laughed at her reaction.

They weren’t even half way through the first episode before she showed up onto the screen and YN wasn’t impressed to say the least. "Why the fuck is she here?"

"She wants to tell everyone what the mindset of an f1 driver is like," Sebastian teased and YN scoffed.

"Oh yes please, let this woman who knows nothing about f1 tell me how I felt when I was in that car for fifteen years. I mean, if they want a woman, ask Susie!"

"I doubt she’d say yes after last year." Sebastian snorted.

"Yeah, that’s true," YN agreed, reaching for the remote to skip until Danica was no longer on the screen.

2nd March 2024

In case Y/N did choose to return to formula one in 2025 she had returned to her full training and diet so that she would have as much preparation as possible which was why the coffee table was filled with healthy snacks, much to Seb’s dismay, as the pair of them snuggled up on the sofa with a now four month old Ansel between them, ready to watch the first race of the season.

The entire weekend her eyes hadn’t left the W15, it hadn’t surprised her that they had incorporated part of the iconic silver design that Mercedes was famous for since it was Lewis’ last season. She had watched the launch of the car and it felt awkward for her, knowing that Lewis was leaving made it feel tense but that could’ve just been her imagination.

The RedBull was a rocket which wasn’t surprising after their success last season, she doubted they had changed much, they hadn’t needed to but what was fascinating was how the W15 didn’t seem so bad in comparison, George was driving that car as if they were one.

Now being able to see the improvement from last year, the confidence she heard in Toto’s voice for next year made sense to her. She believed him in his promise that next years car would be capable of earning her a seventh title and she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t now tempted.

"It’s looking good," Sebastian commented lightly, subtly side eying her.

"Yeah it is," She replied, her eyes not leaving the tv screen as she leaned her head against his shoulder.

A month later

Sebastian apprehensively walked into the living room, smiling at the sight of Y/N lying on the sofa with Ansel asleep against her chest, her hands resting on his back protectively.

She looked up at the sound of his light footsteps and smiled before noticing the wary expression on his face. "Hey, are you okay?"

Sebastian swallowed thickly. "You’re not going to believe this…."

Y/N rose a challenging brow, "yeah? Try me."

"Christian just called."

"Horner?"

Sebastian nodded, walking over and sitting on the sofa by Y/N’s feet. "He isn’t resigning Perez next year, he’s offered me a seat."

If it wasn’t for the seriousness of the conversation, the look of shock on Y/N’s face would’ve been laughable. "Seriously!?"

Sebastian nodded and Y/N let out a small laugh, "Wow," she whispered. "Do you want it?"

"I don’t know," he replied honestly. "I understand the pressure you feel under now, to make a decision. I asked if I could think it through, I also have till mid season to give an answer."

His words caused her to smile as a memory flickered through her mind.

"Seb and I entered formula one together and it feels right to leave it together too, it's great knowing that we quite literally went through the entire thing with each other"

The pair of them had never driven in formula one without the other, if they both returned then that connection between the two of them would remain too. It was a beautiful connection that meant a lot to Y/N for a reason she couldn’t really think of.

She didn’t want to lose that.

That one flicker of a memory had solidified her decision in a mere second.

"If you were in that RedBull would it return your drive and passion for racing?" She asked softly.

Seb set his eyes on his sleeping son for a moment as he thought about her question before returning his gaze to hers. "I think it would."

"Would it ignite a hunger for a fifth title?"

"Yes," Sebastian answered immediately and Y/N smiled.

RedBull was an important part of their careers, it was where she had started out and won her first title and it was where Seb had achieved all of his records and titles.

"I think you have your answer, Seb. You just haven’t convinced yourself it’s real."

Three months later, Austria 🇦🇹 (30th June 2024)

Sebastian and Y/N walked through the Spielberg paddock, a seven month old Ansel was attached to Sebastian’s chest in a baby carrier, his face covered from the cameras with a hat.

They waved to the fans as they walked by but didn’t stop to speak or take photos because they had places to be, they entered the pits and walked past eight team garages, parting once they reached the Mercedes garage, Sebastian continued towards RedBull.

Toto Wolff, the man she was looking for, was standing in the entrance and seemingly waiting for her.

Y/N walked up to him with a cheeky smile on her face and stood beside him in silence, the pair of them looking inside of the garage to where the mechanics were working on the car.

"You weren’t lying to me," she eventually spoke, keeping her voice quiet from prying ears.

Toto looked down at her with a raised eyebrow, not understanding what she meant.

"The car," she explained. "It’s going to be worthy of a title, isn’t it?"

She wasn’t talking about the car in front of her, she was talking about the W16, the one that hadn’t been built yet.

"Yes," he responded surely.

"Okay," she nodded, only now removing her eyes from the car to look him in the eyes. "Well, I want to look over your numbers and speak to the designers because I will not be driving a car that looks like a four year old picked it out and I get to choose how the news is released."

She watched as the realisation slowly took over his features, the shock that riddled his face would forever be ingrained into her mind. "Seriously?" He asked, voice filled with a mixture of disbelief and hope.

"Unless you’ve found someone else?" She asked teasingly, knowing he most certainly hadn’t and even if he had, he wanted her more.

Toto quickly shook his head as a smile grew on his face, he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Y/N’s waist, lifting her feet from the floor as he took her into a bear hug, the pair of them laughed as he spun her round once in utter joy before setting her back down.

No doubt the media would soon be filled with suspicions and theories about what their conversation had been about and what she had said that had caused Toto’s overly happy reaction.

Just over a month later (beginning of August 2024)

With both Sebastian and YN now giving Toto and Christian the verbal agreement that they would drive for Mercedes and RedBull in 2025, it caused for both them and Ansel to make the move back to their property in England.

The summer break had now begun so it was the perfect time for them to sign their contracts and go through all of the necessary things to get prepared for next season and to get back into the swing of things.

This included deciding on when to announce the information of their return.

Both Sebastian and Y/N had given Christian and Toto the conditions that they wanted the news of their return to be together which meant a combined photoshoot and social media post from both Mercedes and RedBull teams.

It also meant that the two team principals and their heads of social media needed to work together to come to a compromise that everyone was happy with for the release.

They weren’t very happy having to work so close together but both were eager for their star drivers back that they pushed through.

It also meant that both teams were holding a shared secret about the other team.

As of right now the only people that knew Sebastian and Y/N Vettel were returning to Formula One were Christian, Toto and each teams head of social media, and family of course.

As neither team principal wanted to step into enemy territory, it left the announcement photoshoot to happen in the Vettel household.

The pair of them were stood in their living room in front of a black backdrop with their race suits on and since they didn’t have their 2025 helmets yet, they used the helmets they retired with.

Both their visors were up as they rested their foreheads against each other and stared into each other’s eyes with serious looks on their faces, preparing to show to the world that they were back and they weren’t playing around.

"Just cause you have your good luck charm back doesn’t mean you’ll be able to catch up to us."

Y/N and Seb rolled their eyes simultaneously,

"You’ve gotten very cocky after a short lucky streak, get to seven in a row and then we’ll start talking." Toto didn’t hesitate in replying.

"How about instead of comparing cock sizes, you two can figure out a date that we launch this news because you still haven’t came to an agreement." Y/N smiled sarcastically causing Sebastian to laugh at the way they promptly shut up.

"Great. If I have to listen to you two go at it next year then I will whip both your arses, got it?"

The two team principles nodded at her words so she turned back to Sebastian, who was looking at her in amusement, so that they could continue with the photos.

November 2024

It was Ansel’s first birthday today and you and Seb were refusing anything formula one today, the entire day was for your son and you both would give him every bit of your attention.

You and Seb were still 100% serious that he came above everything else and you both would remain stern on that, both Christian and Toto understood that yours and Sebastian’s conditions were that your son came first and that was the only reason you agreed to return.

Ansel didn’t at all understand the purpose of a birthday or opening presents so it left you and Seb to open his gifts but he did have the time of his life playing with all of his new toys.

Y/N still couldn’t believe this was her life. Sebastian and Ansel were her everything and to think if Christian Horner out of all people hadn’t taken a chance on her that she wouldn’t be where she is now is crazy and now she had been given the opportunity to return to the sport that had young drivers lining up to be a part of, she knew how lucky she was and she would never take it for granted.

December 2024, Abu Dhabi

If there was one thing that Christian and Toto had in common it was their flare for dramatics, both wished for the news of the Vettel’s returning to take the world by storm and so they were announcing it the day of the last race of the season which was in two days.

Barely any of the team even knew, George now did which he was thrilled about but Toto didn’t want to tell Lewis the news, Y/N thought he was feeling a bit petty and still a bit hurt from how long it took Lewis to tell him about him moving to Ferrari and just wanted to maybe get one up on the driver.

In the meantime, Y/N was going to take George’s car out for a couple of laps today before free practice and none of the team knew it yet but that was about to change.

The garage privacy barriers were up as the team watched in shock and building excitement as Y/N got into George’s car. She smiled as an immediate feeling of content mixed with anticipation built within her, her body knowing this is exactly where she belonged.

She had her 2022 helmet on so if anyone looked carefully they would definitely know that it was not George inside the car.

"Can you hear me, Marcus?"

"I can hear you loud and clear, Y/N. It’s good to have you back."

"Let’s do this then." She put a thumbs up towards one of the team members to move the barriers, gave a nod to Toto who was watching her with a blank expression on his face, (she thought he might be worried that she’d change her mind after giving this apparent shit box a drive) before she pressed down on the accelerator and left the garage.

Leaving the pits, Y/N grinned as best as she could beneath her helmet as she pressed down further on the throttle, smoothing through the gears as she increased her speed.

As she got onto the straight after turn 5, she heard Marcus in her ear. "How are you feeling, Y/N?"

"Great! Just like riding a bike." She replied, the tone of her voice making it clear that she had a large smile on her face.

"Nice to know you’ve still got it, we never doubted you for a second." Marcus told her before cutting the connection.

Up in the commentary box where David Croft and Martin Brundle were setting up for the weekend, they both looked out onto the track in confusion at the sight of the Mercedes, they hooked up their microphones before speaking.

"And that’s the Mercedes of George Russel on the track, free practise hasn’t started yet so I’m not sure if they’re allowed to be doing that…." Crofty’s voice sounded through the track speakers.

"That Mercedes seems to be driving better than it has all season, they haven’t put any updates on for the final race, have they? Is that even allowed?" Martin Brundle continued.

"Let’s see, are we able to take a closer look at that?" Crofty asked, followed by the screens on the grandstand zooming in on the car as it drove on the track. "…..that is not George Russell’s helmet…."

"Isn’t it? Who’s driving his car?" Martin questioned.

"I’m not sure, I’m also not sure this is actually allowed."

"I don’t think Mercedes actually care at this point- sorry, I’ll rephrase that actually. I don’t think Toto Wolff even cares what is allowed at this point."

"Okay, Y/N, if you could bring it into the pits now, we’re going to keep you in the car until the barriers are back up." Marcus instructed.

"Copy," Y/N replied.

The mechanics wheeled her into the garage and put the shutters down so that no one could see inside as she got out of the car.

As soon as her feet hit the ground she was embraced with pats on the back by happy team members.

George approached her with a smile on his face and was shaking his head at her. "I’m not sure how I feel about this anymore, you’d have managed to put that shit box on the second row with that second lap time." His tone made it clear that he was just joking and he was actually more than looking forward to have her as a team mate.

"I’ve still got it then, that’s good."

"It’s great," Toto’s voice from behind her made her jump and then around. "You think we should tell the team?"

"Now?" Y/N asked in surprise and Toto nodded, gesturing that she could do the honours.

Y/N gave him a toothy smile before stepping forward and climbing on top of George’s car, standing just in front of the halo, drawing the attention of everyone in the garage.

"Hey everyone! I know this season has been quite rough on you all, not just with the lack of results the team is used to but also with the fact that we all know Lewis has made the decision to leave Mercedes and join Ferrari which was as much of a surprise to me as I’m sure it was to you guys and it’s honestly been hard for me to see a lot of you feel a bit lost as to how the team can make a comeback and be on top but I do hope that next year you’ll all be able to see just how great Mercedes is and to hopefully regain that hunger because I know I’m hungry for a seventh title and I have every bit of faith that this team can help me achieve that when I come back and drive for you next year…."

The garage filled with a series of gasps followed by cheers that would definitely be heard from outside.

"…this is a finalised decision, Toto and I have been speaking all year and we’ve both signed the contract and I do hope you’re happy to have me back."

The team clapped and the garage was filled with whistles and cheers again as she finished and climbed down from the car.

"The news is going to be released Sunday morning so if you could all keep it on the down low until then it would be greatly appreciated!" She finalised before turning to Toto and George with a raised eyebrow. "There you go, no turning back now."

And for the rest of the weekend, the entire paddock could see the change in the Mercedes team, it seemed every member had a spring in their step as they walked through the track and they all seemed to have a permanent smile on their faces.

When asked about it they all seemed to give generic answers like ‘they were just happy to be here’ but no one believed it, not even Lewis who was left in the dark and when he asked about it he just got the same response.

But as Sunday morning came, both Mercedes and RedBull was filled with anticipation as the news of the Vettel’s return to the sport was shared across four Instagram accounts; RedBull, Mercedes, Y/N’s and Sebastian’s.

The world was taken by storm that morning, not only by the news of the return but also the fact that both teams had seemingly worked together to keep it under wraps.

Seb, Y/N, Christian and Toto entered the track together that morning and were bombarded with cameras and questions making both Vettel’s glad they had left Ansel at the hotel with Fabian who was going to bring him later in the day.

"Seb! Y/N! When did you decide to rejoin formula 1?"

"Christian, did you boot Perez before signing Sebastian or did tell him you were terminating his contract after you had already asked Sebastian to return?"

"Toto, did you ask Y/N to come back to get back at Lewis for leaving Mercedes?"

"Lewis said he had no idea of Y/N taking his seat, is there a reason you told the team but kept him in the dark?"

The four ignored the questions and continued their way into the track, not batting an eye at the other teams who watched as they walked by, astounded to see the four of them together.

"Feels good, doesn’t it? Success…." Christian smirked arrogantly causing Y/N, Seb and Toto to roll their eyes.

"I’d even go as far as saying we make a good team, us four." Toto added and Y/N scoffed.

"Please, this would’ve been a complete disaster had Seb and I not mediated the last year. The pair of you are a ticking time bomb."

Both team principals sent her affronted looks at her words which she ignored, once they reached the Mercedes garage, Seb leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Y/N’s temple. "I’ll come and get you later before the race and we’ll watch it together."

Y/N nodded with a smile and bid him goodbye.

Both her and Toto walked into the Mercedes garage and were met with whoops and cheers from the team causing her to laugh at their dramatics but she soon stopped at the sight of Lewis.

He was approaching her and he looked quite disgruntled.

"Both of you returning?" He asked.

Y/N shrugged. "Toto asked me and then Christian asked Seb a month later, it was purely a coincidence."

He didn’t look like he believed her but it didn’t bother her too much. "I thought it would’ve been off the cards now that you have a child."

Y/N looked at him in confusion. She thought it was a bit rude that he was bringing her son into a conversation that they were clearing having because he felt left out of the news.

"I wouldn’t have returned if Seb didn’t get approached by Christian, we’ve always been in F1 together and as soon as he was offered I knew that I wanted to come back."

"When was this?"

"I got asked in January, after your move was confirmed." Y/N replied honestly.

"You’ve kept that under wraps for a while then." He said in a tone that could only be described as bitter.

"Because we weren’t sure that we were actually going to return. It was a shock to us as well but it felt right and so we accepted. Toto and Christian agreed to wait until closer to the end of the season for the release so that the press would focus on this season and not next."

Which in her opinion is what he should’ve done.

"The team already knew." He stated.

Y/N nodded. "I told them on Friday that I would be driving for them, it’s really upped their motivation for 2025."

"Why didn’t I know?" He eventually just came out and asked.

Y/N looked at him strangely. "Because you chose to leave the team, Lewis. After today, you have to accept that Mercedes is no longer your team and whatever concerns them is no longer your business either. The teams plans for 2025 have no impact on you whatsoever."

Lewis bit his lip and nodded before walking away, nothing else to say.

Y/N watched after him for a moment. They had been teammates for eight years and had an amazing friendship through that but for some reason she had a feeling that was about to end since she was driving for Mercedes.

Had he really thought Toto wasn’t going to find a driver to replace him?

Just before the race.

Seb and Y/N were standing between the first two rows on the grid so they could be nearby Max and George as they got ready as Martin Brundle approached them for his grid walk.

"Sebastian! Y/N! Could I have a quick word?"

"Go on then," Y/N nodded.

"So, you’ve surprised us all this morning by announcing that you’ll both be returning next season, Sebastian you’re going to RedBull and Y/N you’re returning to Mercedes. We want to know something, anything about the process cause nobody was expecting this."

Sebastian smiled. "It’s nothing exciting. After the news of Lewis going to Ferrari, Toto wondered if there was a chance for Y/N to return and then about a month later Christian also called and asked me if I would be willing to come back."

Martin nodded before turning to Y/N. "After Mercedes’ rough two year since you left, do you think they’ll be able to get back on top next year."

Y/N smirked. "I wouldn’t be returning if there wasn’t a chance for me to become a seven time world champion, Martin."

He seemed to be delighted by the news and nodded, thanking the two of them before walking away to hopefully find some of the drivers.

Sebastian wrapped his arm around Y/N as they started walking back towards the garages. "Where do you want to watch it from?"

Y/N thought for a moment. "We’ll watch it from RedBull."

2025

"Okay, state your name, occupation and your team." The woman behind the camera instructed.

Y/N smiled at the camera and began speaking. "I’m Y/N Vettel and I’m a Formula One driver for Mercedes AMG Petronas Formula One team."

She then leaned forward and stared directly into the lens. "I’M BACCKKKKKK!"

Bahrain. 🇧🇭

"Okay, Y/N, are you ready to become a seven time world champion?" Bono asked over the radio.

"You bet I am." She replied confidentially.

"Are you going to become a five time world champion, sunshine?" Hugh asked Sebastian, using the nickname from when Seb won his first all those years ago.

Seb smiled. "That depends on how nice Y/N is feeling."

Y/N kept her gaze on the lights as each one appeared and as soon as they disappeared she let up off the break and slammed her foot down onto the accelerator, both her and Seb driving along side each other as they approached the first corner.

2025 was certainly going to be an interesting season.

[skzdust]

Room 514

Part 3

Sorry this part took so long! I finally had a ton of time to write this morning and I'm getting a lot done! I hope you guys all enjoy it!

Summary: You’re moving into a new suite halfway through your sophomore year at Stay University, populated by three guys: Jisung, Changbin, and Bang Chan. You meet their friends and quickly become a part of their group, but you find yourself wanting more with Jisung…

Pairing: Han Jisung x Reader

Includes: sleepy reader, sleepy Jisung, shirtless Jisung, shopping, Jisung being a gentleman

Word count: 1.5k

Taglist (Comment on a post/send an ask if you'd like to be added): @weirdowithaphone, @caught-in-the-afterglow, @palindrome969, @skzstan12345

Reblogs, likes, comments all appreciated!!!

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 4 | Part 5

Masterlist

-----

You blinked your eyes open as a beam of sunlight fell over your face.

Apparently, you’d fallen asleep in the living room. You didn’t remember putting a pillow next to Jisung and curling up with your head against it, nor did you remember Jisung going to get another blanket, but he must have at some point. You were still under the fluffy throw he’d brought out when you’d first started The Immortal and the Restless, and you could see a blue quilt out of the corner of your eye.

You carefully sat up, trying not to disturb Jisung. He was in the same fetal position you’d woken up in, with his head on top of the pillow instead of against it. His quilt was draped over him, and you could see the corner of the fabric scrunched in one of his hands. The morning light made his hair seem to glitter as the air from the ceiling vent gently played with it, and his face was serene and unguarded.

He rubbed one of his eyes as you stood up from the couch. You held your breath as he stretched. The blanket slid off his side as he unfolded his legs, and your eyes widened as his back arched.

He opened his eyes with a sleepy smile, and you made your expression as normal as possible.

He scrunched up his nose. “What’s wrong? You’re making a weird face.”

“Nothing’s wrong, I’m making a normal face.”

“Mhm.” He smiled again, closing his eyes and letting his head fall sideways onto the pillow. “Normal face.” He ran one of his hands through his hair.

You fought the urge to also run a hand through his hair. “How many episodes in did we get last night?”

He shrugged, eyes still shut. “Dunno. I think I turned it off after three, but they’re each an hour long and I was mostly asleep by the third one.”

“Yeah.” You yawned. “I only really remember the first half of the second one.”

“It’s okay. We can rewatch. No rush.”

“I liked what I remember.”

His smile grew a little bigger. “Good, glad to hear that. It’s one of my favorites.”

You looked at him for a moment longer. His eyes were still closed, and he looked so relaxed, more relaxed than you’d ever seen him.

He opened his eyes and raised his eyebrows, and your cheeks reddened.

“Staring? I know, I know, I’m gorgeous, you just can’t take your eyes off me.”

“That’s not it, I… you’re… ugh.”

He laughed softly. “Just kidding.” He stretched again and sat up. “I am gonna take a shower, though. Maybe we could do something after, if you don’t have calculus to do?”

You did your best not to imagine Jisung in the shower and waved a hand, dismissing both your thoughts and Jisung’s concern. “Calculus isn’t due until Tuesday. It’s Sunday. Plenty of time.”

“Okay, well, I’ll meet you out here in a few minutes and we’ll figure out somewhere to go.”

You nodded. “Sounds good.”

You went back to your room and sat on your bed, staring forward.

Did that really just happen?

You got changed and did your morning hygiene, changing your outfit a couple of times before deeming it good enough. You went back out to the living room and sat down on the couch, scrolling on your phone for a minute.

A staticky noise stopped, and you realized Jisung was still in the bathroom. He must’ve just turned off the shower.

A minute later, the bathroom door opened.

Jisung’s hair was wet, wearing a towel draped around his remarkably hot waist and… nothing else.

You looked down, hoping he wouldn’t notice you.

“I’ll be ready in a minute.” Jisung smiled at you as you looked at him.

You focused on keeping your eyes on his face and not his body, smiling back. “Cool.”

As Jisung disappeared into his room, you took a deep breath.

His body is perfect, too. That’s really not fair.

He walked out a minute later in a jeans and a green hoodie layered under a leather jacket. “Anything you’d like to do?”

You shrugged. “Nothing’s coming to mind except shopping, but I’m kinda broke right now, so I dunno about that.”

“We can try stuff on, though!” Jisung tossed his car keys from one hand to the other. “Come on, I’ll drive us to the mall.”

“Okay, I can try stuff on.”

Jisung beamed. “Perfect.”

The mall wasn’t particularly close, but it was a pleasant drive. You chatted the whole way, and Jisung was a good driver, unlike many of your friends—your old friends, you reminded yourself. Strangely, thinking of them didn’t hurt when you were with Jisung.

You parked and got out of the car, Jisung running around the front and opening your door for you.

“Thank you.”

“Of course.” His smile was like sunshine as he shut the door behind you and locked the car.

You walked into the mall, and he took your hand, guiding you towards a store with a few cute tops in the window. “Ooh, these are cool!”

You walked in and found one of the tops in your size, a light green bustier with ruching across the front and cap sleeves. “Isn’t this one cute?”

“Very cute.” Jisung agreed. “You should try it on!” “I think I will.” You nodded and walked off in search of a dressing room.

You put on the top, struggling with it a bit before realizing there was a side zipper. It looked great on you, fitting like a glove.

You pulled back the curtain and walked out. “Jisung?”

“Here!”

You walked out to the sitting area outside the dressing rooms, doing a little twirl for him.

He smiled, watching you. “Beautiful, you look… amazing.”

“Aw, thank you.” You did a little curtsey, immediately realizing it made no sense since you weren’t wearing a skirt and the top wasn’t that fancy. “I don’t know why I did that.”

Jisung laughed. “It was cute. How much is the top?”

You tried not to think too hard about Jisung calling you cute and looked at the price tag, doing a double take. “Wow, 85 dollars.”

“Damn.” Jisung’s lips twisted. “It looks good, though. Do you want me to get it for you?”

“No, I couldn’t let you do that.” You waved off his offer. “I’d feel bad.”

“I want to, though!”

“I’d feel guilty, though!” You mirrored his language.

Jisung sighed. “Go change back, and we can keep looking, there was this sweater vest with an apple on the front that I really liked.”

“Why don’t you try it on? You’d probably eat it up.”

“I would.” Jisung preened. “Maybe I will.”

You walked back into the dressing room and put your T-shirt back on, carefully adjusting the top on its hanger and walking back out to Jisung. You hung it up on the return rack. “Where’s the sweater vest?”

“Over here.” He stood up, and you followed him to the sweater vests.

“It’s cropped! Cute.” You took it off the rack, feeling the material between your fingers. “Oh, it’s soft, too.”

“Perfect.” Jisung pulled out the vest in his size, and you went back to the dressing rooms. He pranced out a moment later with the sweater vest on.

The crop exposed the bottom part of his abs, and his arms were muscular. The combination of the light green of the trim, the red of the apple, and the cream background looked great on him.

You were reminded of earlier in the morning, when you’d seen him shirtless, and you could feel yourself go red.

“It looks great!”

“Everything okay? You look a little flushed.” Jisung looked concerned.

“Yeah.” You laughed. “All good, just a bit hot.”

“Yeah, it is warm in here.” Jisung nodded, and you exhaled, a little bit relieved. “But you like it?”

“I love it.” You said sincerely.

“Maybe I’ll get it.” He pulled at the hem. “It’s a little tight, but I want it a little tight. I like to wear either oversized stuff or tight stuff. No in between.”

“It’s a good style on you.” Both of those options are really hot.

“Okay, I’m gonna change out of this, if you want to look around a little more, I’ll find you.”

You stood up. “Okay, perfect.”

You walked over to one of the racks, looking at a pink satin top with a large bow across the front. It was cute, not quite your style, but very cute. You walked through the store, but nothing else caught your eye the way the green top had.

Someone tapped you on the shoulder, and you whirled you around, startled.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.” Jisung smiled, holding out a bag.

“Hm?”

“Look inside.”

You did so. Inside was your green top, a receipt stuffed on top of it.

You looked back up at him. “You did not.”

He gave you a mischievous smile. “I did.”

“Jisung! I told you it’d make me feel guilty!”

“Don’t feel guilty! I did it because I wanted to! It looks like it was made for you.”

You couldn’t stop yourself from smiling, taking the bag. “Thank you. I’ll wear it, I promise.”

“You definitely need to. I also got that sweater vest, which has green trim, so we can kinda match!”

“Perfect!”

“Perfect.” Jisung beamed.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for giving away my sisters fish?

This is a dumb and very long story (i could probably shorten it somehow but I don't know how) and I know the title makes me look bad.

Ok so, one evening my mom and my little sister(let's call her Jess) brought home a container of four fish that mum said she saw a guy selling on the road for about 2 dollars (I'm not american so I just calculated and it comes out to around 2 dollars)

This was during the end of year break when Jess was home (usually we all go to boarding school) None of us had ever had pet fish before and we didn't know what kind of fish they were, they looked different from each other and their size difference was pretty big too(the largest was about the size of three nail clippers stacked on top of each other and the smallest was about the size of 1/2 of a car key). So we weren't sure of the species of any and bought the most nondescript pack of fish food we could find, they ate it so we thought things were ok.

About 1 month into the break though (the end of year break where I am is 2 months), 1 of the fish died for reasons we still don't know (we changed the water every 3 days) and two weeks later a second one just disappeared, it wasn't in the bowl, and no one knew what happened. So by the time school started there were 2 fish left (Jess was sad but we also have dogs so she wasn't too sad)

All of us go to different boarding schools but ive been going to a day-school this past year because I'm scheduled for a surgery, so when everyone went back it was just me with the fish.

My elder sister (let's call her Kat) came home from university for a while and she thought the fish were cool so she asked my mom if she could tell her where she got them so she could get some for her dorm. My mom told her she just got them from some guy on the road who didn't have a stall and probably wouldn't be there if she drove to the place she found him. So she went back to uni without any fish

Flash forward, 4 weeks into the term, my mom comes to get me from school and she says was passing the area she saw the guy and he was there with another container of fish this time with about 10 fish also of various muddy and sandy colours, about length of the diameter of a soda-bottle cap (my mom said they also cost her about 2 dollars). I said we could split the fish in half, keep 6 and give Kat 6 for her dorm.

So I'm sitting in the car, holding the container of fish my laps and my mom suddenly stops the car because a person walking on the sidewalks falls into the trenches on the sides of the road. The person is ok but the car stops so suddenly and I'm not holding the container securely so it falls from my laps.

The container has a lid so the car is ok but the guy added some small rocks and a fake plant to the container so they kind of bury the some of fish and 6 of them die. I look on like an idiot while mom tries to settle the rocks but another fish is buried when the rocks are settled.

By the time we get home and transfer all the living fish into the bowl we already have, we have 5 fish in total. We move them to a new, slightly bigger bowl and feed them but by the next morning when I'm going to school i see 3 fish left.

When I get home, I tell my mom that maybe we aren't ready for fish and we should give them to Kat whose dorm may be less of a safety hazard (during the end of year break we used to play with the fish a lot, trying to touch their tails etc so we're definitely the reason the first batch died anyway. We're also 8 kids and there are kids older and younger than me so it would be hard to stop EVERYONE from being rough with the fish). I also had exams coming up and I was starting to put of changing the water and cleaning bowl until i saw algae growing on sides.

Kat has a roommate who thinks the fish are cool too so incase one of them forgets maintaining the fish the other can do it. (I also kind of secretly hoped the all fish would just die a week or two into being with them so it wouldn't bother them anymore I feel bad about it)

Anyway, 3 weeks later when Kat came home she took the fish with her. It's around the middle of the first term so it was Visitation Day at Jess's school yesterday (I think the name is self explanatory) and the first thing she asked about was the fish. I didn't know what to say so I told her the truth and she was so SAD!!(I mean obviously she'd be sad but visitation day is supposed to be a good day) because we named the fish and everything(the first batch, not the second) . I tried to tell her how Kat and her roommate were nice and would give the new fish good name but she said that was dumb I knew that was dumb and I wish had just lied about the whole thing and asked my mom to buy new fish but I feel like Jess would know so said nothing else

My mom kind of cheered her up by saying that during the holidays they could go get a good tank and actual goldfish from a better place but she was mad at me because I suggested that the fish be given to Kat and I feel like she's right because it would be stupid to ask Kat to bring the fish wish her the next time she came home.

All my other siblings not just Jess also got attached to the fish so I'll just be breaking the news to everyone for the next three weeks (because all schools where I am schedule visitation day in the same month) and just generally ruining the mood.

What are these acronyms?

[xxsksxxx]

Almost Heaven

Summary:

Mulder’s attempt to find more exciting cases to investigate while stuck in the bullpen turns into another weekend trip to the forest.

Meanwhile, Scully is faced with a tempting offer that could change both her future and their lives.

Notes:

This little story has been stuck in my head for almost a year. It’s taken more than one change of direction over the last months until I was happy with where it was going. I hope you'll enjoy reading this fic as much as I enjoyed writing it.

And if you want to leave kudos or a comment—no matter if it’s an emoji or several long paragraphs—that would make my whole month.

I also want to say a huge THANK YOU to the wonderful @baronessblixen!

If it hadn’t been for her, and her constant encouragement to continue working on this story and her questions about its progress, I'm sure this story wouldn't be the same. Your input and excitement for this spark of an idea during a Sunday evening chat about something completely unrelated was invaluable. Thank you, my friend!

This story is complete, and I’m going to post one chapter a day.

AO3 | @today-in-fic

Chapter 1: To the Place I Belong

J. Edgar Hoover Building, Washington, D.C. FBI Headquarters – Bullpen Friday, November 27th, 1998, 3:30 pm

“Any plans for the weekend, Scully?” Mulder placed a sunflower seed between his teeth and looked at Scully questioningly. He leaned back in his desk chair, slowly bouncing backward and forward, returning Scully’s questioning glance with an innocent look.

Mulder was completely bored after spending days doing nothing but paperwork and sorting files. He knew Scully was bored too, even though she didn’t mind doing reports half as much as he did.

Scully reached for her coffee cup and sipped the hot liquid, closing her eyes in appreciation. Mulder grinned; he loved watching Scully enjoy her coffee. Mulder could tell she was frustrated by their punishment, which was exactly what was happening. They were being punished. This was also why he had started making an extra effort to get her a cup of coffee just like she wanted every morning and afternoon. She had stoically navigated his frustration with their current situation over the last few months, keeping him in line. And it hadn’t been that long ago that he had had to reassure her that she played a major role in his life. If getting the perfect coffee for her made her happy, he was all for it.

Scully opened her eyes and hummed appreciatively before looking back at him, and he gave her a knowing look. She blushed a bit but didn’t avoid his gaze, her eyes full of warmth. “Did you finish calling the letters ‘H’ and ‘I’ already, or are you planning on spending YOUR weekend catching up?” she quipped and turned back to her keyboard.

“I don’t care about any ‘E’s and ‘I’s. No one is going to follow up on this, anyway. They just want to keep us busy and off any real cases!” he said emphatically, pushing off the floor with his foot and bouncing his chair back and forth again.

“’H’ and ’I’, Mulder. Not ’E’ and ’I’. You did the ’E’s’ last week already. Remember that report I had to rewrite for you because you couldn’t help but add your opinion on why you consider this pointless?” Scully took a new file off of the pile and gave it a cursory glance before sighing.

“Aha! See? You’re just as bored by this as I am, Scully!“

She slowly rotated her shoulder and neck before turning back around to him. “I never said I wasn’t. Of course, this is pointless. None of these people ever so much as stole a chewing gum, much less organized a terrorist attack. But the more we protest, the longer they’re going to keep us assigned to this, and we’ll never get the X-Files back.” She gave him a sympathetic look. “Let’s just focus on getting this over with. If we keep our feet still long enough, they might trust us with the X-Files again.” She smiled tightly, and he knew she was trying to sound confident.

He gave her a long look before sighing and turning back to his overflowing pile of folders. “I hope you’re right, and we’re not wasting our time expecting they’ll forget about us.”

He knew Scully was hoping for the same. He despised sitting around, working on senseless tasks, following up on even more useless information when he could be on the road or talking to people who had actually seen something related to the truth.

“Well, at least Kersh didn’t make you recheck your report this time. Maybe he’ll give up sooner than later,” Scully joked, looking away from her monitor for a second.

“Yeah. By the way, thanks for going over it. I doubt I’d have gotten the same reaction to my original draft. You’re a lifesaver!” Mulder gave her a half-smile and pursed his lips.

She returned his smile with one of her own before turning back to her task.

“So, about those weekend plans—” Mulder began, only to be cut off by the ringing of his phone. “Hello?” he said into the receiver, grimacing at Scully when he recognized the voice of Kersh’s assistant. “Yes, we’ll be right there,” he clipped before hanging up and getting up from his chair, grabbing his jacket. “We’re expected in the Deputy Director’s office asap, Agent Scully,” he parroted, not waiting for her before taking off towards the open reception area of Kersh’s office.

He could hear Scully sigh, but she followed him without comment. What now? he wondered. Nothing good ever came out of being called into their boss’s office.

Office of Deputy Director Alvin Kersh

“Have a seat, Agents,” Kersh greeted them without looking up from his note-taking. His tone was as unreadable and impersonal as ever.

Mulder glanced at Scully, but she wordlessly took one of the two seats in front of their boss's desk.

The minutes passed slowly, and Mulder counted the ticking of the analog clock hanging on the wall at the side of the office, which signaled the passing of time. Kersh was making them wait, and Mulder hated every second of it. Just as he opened his mouth to ask if they were keeping him from his work, Kersh looked up and put his pen aside.

“I have a new assignment for you,” he began, giving them both a calculating look. When neither agent reacted, he slid a thick brown folder across the desk towards them. “There have been reports of some nighttime activities down at the Waterfront Resort. I want you to investigate those reports and ensure that nothing illegal is going on there.”

Mulder reached for the file and started to read the top sheet. The more he read, the angrier he got. “Nighttime activities, sir? From what I’m reading here, there have been reports of some kids staying out past their curfew down there. That’s not an actual assignment, a security guard could easily take care of this.” He angrily snapped the file shut and threw it back on the desk.

Kersh’s eyes narrowed, and his tone became even colder if that was possible. “What is an assignment and what isn’t is still something for me to decide, Agent Mulder. Are we clear on that?”

Scully quietly cleared her throat and reached for the folder. “Yes, sir. Agent Mulder and I will take care of this.” She quickly got up from her chair, placing her hand on Mulder’s arm.

Kersh nodded, his eyes still piercing Mulder’s with a cold glare. “Very well, Agent.” He took his pen back in his hand and began writing again, dismissing them wordlessly.

Mulder stood up abruptly, and for a moment he was tempted to have Kersh have it. He was so tired of being roadblocked every step of the way. A gentle squeeze of Scully’s hand on his arm kept him quiet, though, and with a last glance at their boss, he turned around and headed for the door.

FBI Headquarters – Bullpen

Mulder watched as Scully sank into her office chair, her exasperation clear. Another day, another senseless task, he thought.

Mulder frustration was close to exploding. The longer they worked under Kersh, the worse it seemed to get. Scully glanced over at him, and Mulder realized he had been morosely staring at his monitor. He started to bounce his leg, trying to get rid of some of his anger. He’d definitely have to go for a long run tonight, he mused, or his head would explode.

“Mulder, stop fidgeting!” Scully slapped her hand on his bouncing knee, forcing the offending appendage to stop moving.

Mulder sighed and crossed his arms over his chest, trying to stay still. “I just hate this, Scully. We’ve been sitting around, doing nothing, for weeks now.” He slowly moved his head from his left shoulder to his right, trying to stretch out the stiff muscles. “And now this! We both know this assignment is just to keep us sidelined. I don’t know how long I can stand waiting around! What are they even planning to do with us at this point?”

Scully nodded, her own frustration evident. “I don’t know, Mulder. I just know fidgeting is not going to change anything. What I do know, however, is that we have to play along for now, or this is going to escalate even higher up, and then we won’t ever get the chance to get the X-Files back.”

Mulder turned to face her directly. “It’s just so frustrating! We should be investigating real cases, not watching some teenagers commit the unspeakable crime of underage drinking.”

Scully gave him a sympathetic look. “I know, Mulder. And I’m just as frustrated as you are. I didn’t choose the FBI to do this kind of grind work either. I want to find the truth just as much as you do.”

Mulder didn’t reply, his eyes firmly fixed on Kersh’s reception area, where the Deputy Director had just appeared and had started laughing with his assistant. Mulder deflated once again, dropped back in his office chair, and gave Scully a pointed look. Kersh had them right where he wanted them.

Scully returned his look grimly before turning back to the folder with their assignment and started rubbing her temples.

He watched her for a few long moments before jumping up and grabbing her arm, pulling her with him. She let him drag her out of her chair, hissing, “Mulder, what are you doing?!” while taking a cursory glance around the large office space. No one was paying them any attention.

Mulder reached for his jacket from the back of his chair, shrugging it on. “This assignment is going nowhere. I’m pretty sure no one has even glanced at this file in the last several weeks. Let’s get out of here, Scully.” He grabbed his keys from his desk and slipped them into his pants pockets before putting his arm on her shoulder, squeezing softly.

She gave him a long look before sighing. “Might as well,” she added, grabbing her coat and putting it on.

Mulder placed his hand against her lower back, and together they walked down the hallway towards the elevator.

[tkachuktkaching]

Tkachuk to be full participant at start of Panthers training camp

Forward ‘feeling great’ after fracturing sternum during Stanley Cup Final

LAS VEGAS -- Matthew Tkachuk will be a full participant when the Florida Panthers begin training camp Sept. 21.

The forward said at the NHL North American Player Media Tour on Tuesday during an interview for a future episode of the "NHL @TheRink" podcast that he is healthy more than three months after sustaining a fractured sternum in the first period of Game 3 of the Stanley Cup Final against the Vegas Golden Knights on June 8.

"I am feeling great," Tkachuk said. "It's been a very short summer, the way I want it to be every year going forward. The worst timing for the injury, obviously, Stanley Cup Final, but in a weird way I had time after where I wasn't missing X amount of months of game action, so I had the summer to get ready. I definitely improved on some things. The injury allowed me to work on some parts of fitness and conditioning and that is in the best form right now possible, and I just improved on some strength, which was my goal."

Tkachuk returned in the third period of Game 3 and scored the tying goal with 2:13 remaining. The Panthers won 3-2 in overtime.

He said he was given permission by team doctors to play through the pain in Game 4. He skated 16:40 and had four shots on goal in a 3-2 loss that put Florida down 3-1 in the best-of-7 series. Tkachuk did not play Game 5, which Vegas won 9-3 to win the Stanley Cup.

"I think I realized I was in the most pain when we won that Game 3," Tkachuk said. "I missed a big portion of it, came back and we won it in overtime. After the game, I'm walking around and normally you have the high spirits after a win, especially in the playoffs. It doesn't matter what you're going through, you're on top of the world. And I was pumped, but I still knew that half of my body felt like it was [in pain]. I knew something wasn't right.

“I didn't know what it was at the time. We did all my tests the next day, then I came back and basically with doctor's orders was given the opportunity to do everything I could to play just one game. [I] did it. I would have done it all over again if I had the chance."

Tkachuk said he wasn't worried about long-term effects of the break in his sternum, knowing that would heal, but there were some internal issues that that led to some scary moments.

"I'll try to keep it short, but there's all the blood vessels and stuff and that was the scary part at the time and that was the most concerning part in my health at the time," Tkachuk said. "But right now, it's good."

He was able to play Game 4 despite not even being able to get out of bed without assistance from his brother, Ottawa Senators forward Brady Tkachuk.

"I'm not going to lie, that was the craziest thing I've ever kind of been a part of," Brady said Tuesday, also for a future episode of the "NHL @TheRink" podcast. "I just flew in for the game because I wanted to see a Stanley Cup Final game and he came back from the rink in the morning and just looked awful. He was like, 'I’ve got to go take a nap.' And then he calls me at 3:30 and I'm downstairs. He says, 'Can you come up here?' We were just mucking it up and then he's like, 'Alright, I need you to help me up.' I'm like, 'You're joking.' He's like, 'No, I legit can't get up. I just sneezed and I thought I died.'

“He was going through some serious pain and just to see him be able to find a way to just play in that game and have the mindset of treating this as my last game, do whatever it takes, try to get a win and put ourselves in a better position going into Game 5, I was so proud of him. The way he played, trying to work around it, not many people can do, especially at the pain level he was at."

Tkachuk finished last season tied for sixth in the NHL with 109 points (40 goals, 69 assists) in 79 games. He led the Panthers and was tied for third in the NHL in playoff scoring with 24 points (11 goals, 13 assists) in 20 games.

Florida is not expected to have defensemen Aaron Ekblad and Brandon Montour on the ice for the start of training camp; each has been rehabbing from offseason shoulder surgery. Tkachuk said they may not be back until around Christmas.

[tendaysofrain]

“Three Poems for the End of the Year” (歲晚三首) Translation

(Happy Spring Festival/Lunar New Year/Chinese New Year to all!  I thought this series of poems was a good introduction for certain traditions and customs surrounding the festival, so here they are, please enjoy!)

Three Poems for the End of the Year

By Su Shi (Song dynasty, 1062 AD, 11th century)

Exchanging gifts at the end of the year is called “gifting the year” (1); inviting others to feast together is called “sending off the year” (2); keeping vigil through the night of the eve is called “watching over the year” (3).  Such are the customs in Shu (4) (5).  Since I am now a government official in Qixia (6) and cannot return home at the end of the year, I am writing these three poems here for Ziyou (7).

Gifting the Year (1)

Each household’s harvest is now done, which will aid in the yearly event (8).

Worried about missing out on the festivities, people exchange presents freely.

The contents vary according to their place of origin, the poor gives little while the rich gives plenty.

An enormous carp lays across the plate, within the cage rests a pair of rabbits.

The wealthy displays extravagance, their embroidered silks glowing in lustrous hues.

The poor cannot afford the luxury, and opted for small gifts of pastries.

The official residence doesn’t have familiar faces, while the celebrations continued in the alleys.

I wish to celebrate with the customs of my hometown, yet there's nobody who will join me.

Sending Off the Year (2)

Faraway lives my old friend, reluctantly do we part.

Though people can return to visit, the years never will.

Where have the years gone?  To the ends of the earth.

Off chasing the east-flowing waters (9), and into the timeless seas.

The neighbor to the east has the well-aged wine, and the neighbor to the west owns the fattened pig.

All for a day’s festivity, to compensate for the melancholy of the ending old year.

But never be consumed while mourning this loss, lest you forgo the fresh new year.

If one looks back while moving forward, old age and infirmity shall catch up.

Watching Over the Year (3)

The year shall soon end, a long snake swimming towards the gloomy depths.

Its slender scales already half out of view, who can hide its intention to leave?

And if one wishes to tie up its tail, though diligent this is still in vain.

Trying their best to fight off sleep, children play merrily into the night.

Wishing the morning rooster won’t crow, my anxiety grows amid the urging of the geng drums (10) (11).

Sitting through the night whilst petals of ash drifts from the lamp (12), the Big Dipper already askew when I stand up.

Will the New Year be absent next year?  I fear what’s on my mind will be delayed again.

The youth who can cherish this singular night, their will and spirit are praiseworthy indeed.

—————————-

Notes:

“Gifting the Year”/饋歲/馈岁:  refers to the custom of exchanging gifts at the end of the year.

“Sending Off the Year”/別歲/别岁:  refers to the custom of feasting on the 29th day of the Twelfth month in order to “bid farewell to the old year”.

“Watching Over the Year”/守歲/守岁:  refers to the custom of staying up through the entire night of the eve and the early hours of the first day of the new year; lamps and candles are also kept on or lit through the night so the light can rid the residence of all evil, pestilence, and illness in preparation for the new year.

Shu/蜀:  name of a region; the archaic name of the region known today as Sichuan/四川.

The first two sentences in Su Shi’s introduction here are a direct reference to the records of New Year’s customs from the Jin dynasty (266 - 420 AD) book 《風土記》 by Zhou Chu/周處/周处.  In fact, Su Shi’s description here is a paraphrase of the same information in 《風土記》:  ”蜀之風俗，晚歲相與餽問，謂之餽歲。酒食相邀為別歲。至除夕，達旦不眠，謂之守歲”.

Qixia/岐下:  refers to the foot of the Qishan/岐山 mountain in Shaanxi province/陕西省 today.

Ziyou/子由:  courtesy name of Su Shi’s younger brother Su Zhe/蘇轍, the recipient of this letter.

Yearly event/歲事:  implies the New Year’s festival, colloquially called “passing the year” (Guonian/過年/过年 or Dusui/度歲/度岁) or “yearly festival” (Nianjie/年節/年节), now known more widely as “Spring Festival”/春节 (this name came about in 1914 from an official document), “Lunar New Year”/农历新年, or “Chinese New Year”.

East-flowing waters:  a common Chinese literary motif that refers to the passage of time; this is because both Yangzi River and Yellow River flow eastwards.

Geng drum:  a drum carried by night watchers, called Gengfu/更夫; gengfu will sound the drum every Shichen/時辰/时辰 (1 shichen = 2 hours) during the night while he is patrolling the streets and on the look out for potential dangers like fires or robbers.

It should be noted that in the old times, age is calculated as “1 year old” at birth, and increases by 1 every New Year’s festival (the resulting age number from this traditional age calculation method is now called Xusui/虛歲/虚岁).  This is reflected in the character sui/歲/岁, which means both “age” and “year”.  This also means that in the old times, everyone has a birthdate, but there are no annual “birthdays”.  Now we can understand Su Shi’s anxiety while waiting for the old year to end:  he will be considered “1 year older” after the eve ends, which reminds him that he’s aging.

Petals of ash:  refers to the ash left by the burning candle wick.

—————————-

Original Text (Traditional Chinese):

《 歲晚三首 》

[宋]  蘇軾

歲晚相與餽問為“餽歲”；酒食相邀呼為“別歲”；至除夜達旦不眠為“守歲”。蜀之風俗如是。餘官於岐下，���暮思歸而不可得，故為此三詩以寄子由。

《 饋歲 》

農功各已收，歲事得相佐。

為歡恐無及，假物不論貨。

山川隨出產，貧富稱小大。

置盤巨鯉橫，發籠雙兔卧。

富人事華靡，彩繡光翻座。

貧者愧不能，微摯出舂磨。

官居故人少，里巷佳節過。

亦欲舉鄉風，獨唱無人和。

《 別歲 》

故人適千里，臨別尚遲遲。

人行猶可復，歲行那可追。

問歲安所之？遠在天一涯。

已逐東流水，赴海歸無時。

東鄰酒初熟，西舍彘亦肥。

且為一日歡，慰此窮年悲。

勿嗟舊歲別，行與新歲辭。

去去勿回顧，還君老與衰。

《 守歲 》

欲知垂盡歲，有似赴壑蛇。

修鱗半已沒，去意誰能遮。

況欲系其尾，雖勤知奈何。

兒童強不睡，相守夜歡譁。

晨雞且勿鳴，更鼓畏添撾。

坐久燈燼落，起看北斗斜。

明年豈無年，心事恐蹉跎。

努力盡今夕，少年猶可誇。

[howlingtides]

A concerned Chuuya finds a drunk Dazai in the bath (Chuuya's POV) - Part 1/2

tw: scars, suicidal ideation, implied self-harm, drinking

tags: hurt/comfort, soukoku's version of fluff, drunk Dazai

Part 1 / Part 2

"Oi, Dazai." Chuuya pounded on the door.

It was nearly 3 am and Chuuya should be in bed sleeping - it was his day off - but instead he was here, standing outside of shitty Dazai's apartment, waiting for that histrionic mummy to open the goddamn door.

Dazai had called him.

Dazai never calls him.

And at this hour?

Chuuya had woken up to the sound of his phone ringing, had just missed the call. He'd be lying if he said his stomach hadn't dropped when he checked the caller ID. He'd also be lying if he said his heart hadn't begun to race when he'd tried calling back multiple times to no avail.

If it had been anyone else, he would've gone back to bed and tried again in the morning. Whatever it was, they could figure it out.

But this was Dazai.

And that's what scared him.

"Dazai," he called again, jiggling the door handle, "if this is some sort of elaborate prank, I'm gonna throw your phone into the river and strangle you with your own-"

The door opened as Chuuya pushed. Oh. It was unlocked. "-bandages," he finished to himself.

It was dark as he stepped inside, all the lights were off save for a light that was coming from around the corner.

Coming from the bathroom.

"Dazai?" Chuuya's voice softened as he walked towards the light, stopping in the bathroom doorway.

Dazai was in the tub. It was filled to the brim with water, and he was naked, arm draped over the side, swirling a glass of whiskey in his hand. A bottle of whiskey sat on the tile floor next to him, about half empty.

And he wasn't wearing his bandages.

Chuuya's breath caught.

Scars littered his arms, his neck, his chest, some deeper than others, some larger, some smaller. Chuuya knew they were there, had seen one or two of them before at the slip of a bandage from time to time, but seeing them all at once like this?

His chest tightened.

Dazai lifted his head from where it was propped against the tile wall. His hair was wet, pushed off of his face, showing off yet another scar on his forehead, just beneath his hairline, that was typically hidden beneath dark bangs.

He brought the glass to his lips and spoke as if he was speaking to no one in particular, though Chuuya was pretty sure he knew he was there, had to have heard him, had to have known by now that he wasn't alone.

"Do you think this is what Oda meant?" he asked before taking a sip. He swallowed, licking his lips. "To be on the side that saves people."

It ended as more of a statement than a question, and Chuuya wasn't sure what to say.

Dazai continued, keeping his eyes forward. "I might have fucked up, Chuuya."

The use of his name caught Chuuya off guard. So Dazai was talking to him.

He stepped into the bathroom, pulling off his hat and setting it on the counter. "You only just realizing that now?"

The sound of Chuuya's voice made Dazai jump a little as he turned, looking at Chuuya for the first time since he'd been there.

His eyes were red.

"I've been fucking up my whole life," he said with so much sincerity that Chuuya couldn't help but believe him. "It's no secret. A scar for every fuck-up. For every time I couldn't..." His words trailed off as he took another sip of whiskey.

Chuuya slipped out of his jacket, hanging it on the corner of the door. "If you're looking for pity, you're gonna have to try a lot harder than that."

The corner of Dazai's lip curled upward ever so slightly as he turned to face forward again.

Chuuya considered it a win.

"Why did you call me out here?" Chuuya said, crossing his arms.

"I didn't call you out here," Dazai said, because he had to correct Chuuya, because he always had to be right no matter what kind of self-destructive mindset he was in.

Chuuya sighed. "Why did you call me?"

Dazai thought about it for a moment, staring down into his glass. "You're the only one who understands," he said so matter-of-factly that it hurt before he downed the rest of his whiskey.

Shit.

What the fuck was Chuuya supposed to say to that?

He stood there for a moment, trying to decide how he was supposed to feel or what he was supposed to think or what he was supposed to do. His brain was fried and his soul was tired and he didn't have the energy to feel right now.

He'd been asleep a half an hour ago.

Fuck it.

He moved forward, grabbing the bottle and taking a swig, the whiskey burning his throat as he sat on the floor next to Dazai. He was suddenly bothered by the fact that he hadn't taken his boots off, and he handed the bottle to Dazai as he unzipped them, kicking them off.

Dazai refilled his glass. "So disrespectful," he said.

"Sorry I didn't think to take off my shoes when I came over to make sure you weren't dead," Chuuya spat, immediately regretting it.

He grabbed the bottle from Dazai and took another drink.

Dazai's eyes widened. "You thought I was gonna kill myself?"

"I didn't know what to think," he said, raising his voice. "What kind of asshole calls someone at 3 am and doesn't leave a message or text and doesn't answer when they try to call him back or-" He caught his breath, running his fingers through his hair. "That was such a shitty fucking thing to do, you suicidal prick."

The room went quiet for a moment as Dazai thought again, and Chuuya took another drink.

"You're right," Dazai said eventually. "That was a shitty thing to do." His eyes met Chuuya's. "I'm sorry."

They stayed like that for a minute, eyes locked onto each other until Dazai moved, turned his body in the tub, water sloshing as he raised his other hand and brought it to the side of Chuuya's face, holding his cheek.

Chuuya froze as Dazai leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. "You don't deserve that, Chuuya," he whispered into his hair. "I don't deserve you."

Anger boiled in the bottom of Chuuya's stomach as he covered Dazai's hand on his cheek with his own, squeezing it tight. He pulled back, just enough to look Dazai in the eyes.

"Don't," he said, shaking his head. "Don't you say shit like that to me."

To be continued...

[kashimos-hajime]

—𝟐𝟐 - 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 | 𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐲, 𝐢 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮

pairing: getou suguru x fem!reader

summary: anonymous musician, kogane, had been dropping non-hints of who they were since they first began releasing music to the students of tokyo metropolitan technical college nine months ago to the frustration of everyone ever.

getou suguru, long-time (arguably #1) fan and campus heartthrob with a reputation is determined to find out exactly who they are before he graduates, and he has no idea where to start. that is, until resident idiot and best friend and roommate, gojo satoru, points him in the direction of you, the musical genius behind kogane

word count: 11.3k

a/n: hey yall!! i’m here with one of the most important chapters of the series. for reference for the song that *spoiler* suguru and y/n dance to, it is house of cards - full length by bts. i recommend you search up the translation of the lyrics if you do give it a listen because it has a lot of foreshadowing (also it’s a certified banger)

[9:30 AM]

You get up with a sense of trepidation. 

You spent all of last night picking out what to wear, and making sure you had everything you’d need so you wouldn’t rush in the morning, and as you leave the apartment while Maki still asleep, you can’t help feeling like your stomach’s about to spill out of your body.

A date. Your first… real date in a long time. Are you insane? As you check your reflection in your phone camera, you can’t help but scrutinize every aspect of your face. Every imperfection. What is going on through his head? What… what made him suddenly ask you out?

No. He might not even have meant it like that, you tell yourself firmly, turning off your phone screen and slipping it back into your pocket. Despite what your friends said, you have to keep a sane head about you. Not to mention, all that talk about Sukuna…

There’s no space for him in your head today of all days, and you firmly try to shut down that thought before it can branch any further.

He’s waiting in front of the building, looking around, and the way your entire body seems to lunge forward at the sight of him makes you burn in embarrassment. He’s dressed in sweats and a hoodie, a windbreaker pulled over that, and his gym bag is slung across his body, but he looks handsome as always, and he lights up when he spots you coming over.

Your heart cramps in your chest.

“Good morning. Sorry if it’s too early,” is the first thing Suguru says as you approach him. 

“If it was too early, I would’ve came later. I need to get work done anyway.” You push your glasses up your face, and fish out your student card from your pocket. It’s attached to a lanyard, and you loop your wrist through it. “I need to stop by the recording studio first really quickly before we head to where you needa go.”

“Yeah, sure.” They walk to the door, and you scan your card so they can head in as he adds casually, “You look nice.”

Your ears warm. “What?”

“You look nice,” he repeats. “I like your cardigan.” You look over at him just as there’s a beep, but he’s already moving to hold open the door and he sweeps his arm, gesturing for you to go in first. “After you.”

“Uh. Thanks.” Maybe it’s the memories of the last time you’d seen him flashing in your head, but your entire mouth blazes and you duck your head to walk in first, leading the way. 

The building’s pretty confusing if you’re a newcomer, but it’s one of the most comfortable places you’ve ever been in. Equipped with many rooms for recording music, practicing instruments, rehearsing for dance, it’s a place where many of those majoring in such studies have to be in for up to twelve hours a day. Your work space is the third floor, and Suguru follows close, just a half-step behind.

In the elevator, you glance up at the numbers.

“How’re you and Mina?” you ask as nonchalantly as you can. “You said you guys weren’t friends?”

“I stopped seeing her,” he answers. “Just not interested anymore.”

“She got boring?” You frown, surprised. It’s harsh of you to say, but Suguru’s been seen hanging onto her since the party. You’d thought that whatever had occurred to him was nothing more than water under the bridge and she was… she’s prettier than you, and bubblier. Very kind. Friendly. Hard to find someone like her boring.

Suguru shrugs. “No. She just wasn’t my type.”

“She’s not your type? But she’s beautiful and really nice, too.”

“So?”

“Well, if that isn’t your type, I don’t know what is.” The doors open and you walk ahead. He trails after you after a beat, and your mind wracks for what could possibly be the reason Suguru decided to drop someone like Mina so suddenly. Not interested in dating? Then why was he with her for the past week? And he hadn’t denied the rumours surrounding him earlier when you had asked him before yesterday.

Men are so fucking confusing. 

You shake your head.

The studio you’ve unofficially designated as yours as one of the senior music students is the one closest to the lounge room that houses a small kitchen unit, big couches, and even a TV that is hoisted onto a wall. 

You explain, briefly, about the lounge: “There’s even a gaming system that someone donated a few years back.” Unlocking the door to the lounge for him, you turn to Suguru with a faint smile. “You can wait here,” you tell him. “I just needa grab something next door.”

“I can’t come with?” he asks and you shake your head. “Why not?”

“It’s a surprise.”

“Surprise?”

A track that you’d been crafting for a while that you want to upload later in the year, but you’re not about to tell him that so you just smile. “Mhm.” Suguru pouts playfully, and you shove him into the room, promising you’ll be back soon. “I’m sure you can entertain yourself. I’ll just be next door.”

“But I wanna see your studio.”

“You’ve seen it before.”

“I know, but it’s been a while.” 

“Suguru.”

“I missed you,” he sniffs, nose scrunching and a playfully childish expression on his face. You roll your eyes, and he inches closer, as if to walk past you towards your studio himself. You grab his arm, and he grins toothily. “I want to spend time with you, (Name).”

“Can’t you last two seconds without me?”

“I think I’ll die,” he affirms, and you can’t help your own foolish smile. He tilts his head, catching it, but you merely turn away, taking the arm you’ve grabbed and throwing it towards the lounge door. “Wait—“

“Stay put, baby,” you drawl, and his eyes widen. Ears beginning to pink, he opens his mouth to argue but you simply shove him deeper into the room and close the door on him. 

Scampering to your studio, you swipe your card and slip in. Taking your laptop out of your bag, you hook it up and begin to transfer a file you wanted to insert into the track. It’s a pretty old audio, from a recording of when you were a new student on campus, and now that you’re in your last year, you thought it would be right ro release a graduation song. A last farewell. It includes your voice back then, too, and you cringe at your own singing as you listen to it playback through headphones you shove onto one ear.

As soon as it’s done, you click through to make sure it transferred properly before sighing and unhooking everything. You try to keep your school laptop pretty empty, consisting of only new works in progress and other school files, which means all your music on the side has been shoved into USBs scattered across everywhere you live, other computers. One day, you’ll be glad that you can strip this laptop bare and have it focused solely on producing your tracks and not stress out about anything else.

You slip your laptop back into your bag and head out, migrating back to the lounge room. Inside, Suguru’s laying on the couch, his legs draped over the back of it as he scrolls on his phone, but at the sound of the door opening, his eyes dart up to meet yours.

“Look who came crawling back,” he teases, drawing himself up, and you shake your head, moving to check on the fridge. There’s a lot in here surprisingly, but you think a lot of it comes from people working at restaurants and them bringing their leftovers when they can. You sigh, rifling through it to make sure nothing’s spoiled. It stinks up the entire floor if someone’s not on top of it so most of the senior students keep up to date on the inside. “Woah, you got a lot of food in here.”

You jump, head snapping to the sound, and you jerk back when you find Suguru’s face mere inches away from yours. Heat flashes across your face as you straighten up, backing up. He observes you quietly through squinted eyes, and then he leans over the fridge door that barricades them from each other, smirking. “Did I scare you?”

“The food is for all-nighters. Need coffee and food to stay awake when you’re working at 3 AM,” you manage to say, pulling away from him as quick as you can without it being weird. Dark eyes bore into yours, and you reach to close the fridge. It seals itself shut and suddenly there’s nothing between their bodies. For some reason, it makes you feel very vulnerable. “And no. You didn’t scare me.” 

He clicks his tongue with a wry side smile. “Tch. Dang.”

Running a thumb underneath the shoulder strap of your laptop bag, you begin to walk away. “You’re annoying.”

“And yet, you keep me around.” He follows.

. 

You’ve only been to the uni’s dance studios once or twice, but Suguru leads you to one you’ve never been in before. It’s on the top most floor, and has a good view of the rest of the campus. When they go inside, the blinds are down, but Suguru tells you to make yourself at home and heads to pull them up, revealing so much sunlight pouring into the room it makes you squint. One wall is all mirrors to the left of the windows, and on the right are ballet barres, which you situate yourself under so you’re near the center back of the room. 

“You comfy there, baby?” he calls, and you look up on instinct, nodding before registering what he called you and you look down, pulling your laptop out hastily. He walks back over to you, sliding forward onto his knees with a hand planted on the ground and his leg bumps into yours as he flashes you a smile. “If you get hungry or anything, tell me. We can stop whenever.”

“Okay. But you’re working on something, too, right?”

“Mhm.”

“What is it?”

“Just workshopping some things,” he answers. “I hope you don’t mind me playing music.”

“I got my headphones,” you reply, pulling them out. He tilts his head, eyes flickering to it, before back up to you, and you blink, brow furrowing at the soft smile that flits across his face. He sighs, sets a hand on your head and pushes himself off.

“You’re cute,” he mutters, shaking his head. You scowl but he’s already turning his back, and you’ve lost your chance to spit something out in retort. 

This is so weird.

Is this a date or not?

It certainly doesn’t feel like one. They haven’t seen each other in a few days, but it feels just like it did when they hung out before. The heat, the way you feel so self-conscious around him. He gets close to you, and something in you wants to freak out but you can’t even fucking tell if you want to freak out in a good way or a bad way, and then he’s gone and the entire opportunity has melted away.

Suguru’s got rid of his jacket and hoodie in favour of a loose white tee, and now that he’s just in socks, he begins to roll down his body, stretching and slowly warming up with a lo-fi music playlist that you’ve just noticed beginning to play. His eyes are closed so he can’t see you looking, but when he lifts his arms up above your head, a flash of skin makes you avert your gaze.

You should not be staring.

Firmly placing your headphones on, you open your audio mixing program and bury yourself into the work. The sunlight warms your skin pleasantly, and you begin to forget where you are, finding a comfortable slouch as your mind begins to run like an engine humming, searching for new nooks and crannies in the score that you can fit or adjust another aspect of the instrumental. You haven’t finalized lyrics or anything, but there’s a certain sound that’s missing, and you’re not sure what it is.

It’ll have to be saved for later. You can never be satisfied with what you make. It’s probably one of the worst aspects of being a perfectionist, you think. You can’t let loose ends be. It’ll dog at you until you force yourself to give it up, but until then, you’ll keep trying to craft the perfect goodbye.

Replaying a segment of the bridge, you adjust your legs, stretching them out in front of you and resting your computer in your lap. Your eyes glance to the top right corner to check on the battery, and you roll your neck under a palm as you fish out your charger from your bag blindly. Fingers wrapping around the looped cord, you look up.

And what catches your eye makes your entire body freeze, soften, melt. Your eyes widen as you watch Suguru dance. He’s beautiful as he moves, his hair unbound, his body a singular flowing being that pushes and pulls with the pulse of sound. Your heart lurches into your throat as you dumbly slide the headphones off your ears just to hear what he’s hearing.

You’ve seen him dance before—of course, you have at year-end festivals and other presentations. In short bursts when they were talking about the project. It’s not an unknown fact that Suguru is one of the most talented dancers in the program. 

But there’s something different here. It doesn’t feel like a performance, more it’s like you’re watching something you’re not sure you should be seeing.

The purest expression of human emotion in the way his body is impacted by each note, Suguru bleeds something… vulnerable. Something raw. It’s a pain that echoes and your legs twitch, as if you want to join him, and it takes all your impulse control to stay down.

You’ve never been so close to Suguru while he was immersed fully in his choreography, and when his feet shift, when his arms stretch into those languid lines that are honed with practice, you can’t help but feel something swell in your chest. It hoists the two broken halves of your heart like a balloon, and mends the sharp edges with soft, buttery rubber that wanes under the grace of his pirouette.

You feel soft, and warm, and cherished as you observe art. You don’t know if this is how other people feel when they watch him dance, but this is how you feel. It might be because you have feelings for him, or maybe it’s the way his eyes are barely open, letting his instinct guide him, letting his heart lead his body to extend into the most beautiful lines, but in the sunlight pouring through the wide, tall windows, you are sure that Suguru’s pale golden figure swaying to the song pouring from the speakers is as close to an angel as you will ever get.

The song begins to climax, and Suguru prepares himself for a sharp spin. Your breath hitches and the world begins to slow as he pushes off his foot. Leg out to the side, he begins to pull it in with a control you can’t even fathom. As he turns faster and faster, though, his balance falters, and he stumbles out of the turn four rotations in.

Collapsing to his knees, Suguru lets out a frustrated noise, and he rolls out and lands spread-eagle on his back. He slaps his hand on the floor before it curls into a tight fist, and he throws an arm over his eyes. When the track completely finishes, he flips himself onto his hands and knees, and pushes himself up to his feet again, eyes dark and a displeased scowl plastered across his mouth. It’s so dark it nearly takes you aback, but you know exactly the feeling.

“I like the song,” you offer quietly as the music starts again from the beginning of the track. Suguru’s gaze snaps to you, and you meet his stare head on, offering a half-smile and a shrug. The tension in his face melts away, and the corner of his lip pulls up. Using the bottom of his tee to wipe the sweat from his face, he sighs, and turns around, staring at himself in the mirror and letting his arms swing out, shaking the excess tension out. “You’re a beautiful dancer, Suguru.”

“Thanks. If I could get this turn, maybe I’d be even better,” he adds the latter in a softer, more venomous tone, and you shake your head.

“It looks difficult.”

“I guess.” He shakes his head and sets himself into the prep stance for the turn again. His shoulders square off, and he shifts his weight testily on his back foot. Arms out, he stares at his own reflection, and he’s about to go when he drops his limbs, turning around to look at you. “Don’t watch me.”

“Why?”

“It makes me nervous.”

You can’t help but laugh. “Me?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because when pretty girls watch me, I get shy,” he drawls, hands on his hips. His tee sleeves have been folded up as a make-shift tank top, and his posture’s slouched as he cocks his head, still catching his breath. He wipes at his nose with the back of his hand. “Turn around, (Name).”

“I literally will not do that,” you reply. “Staring at the wall is stupid.”

“For me?”

“What on earth makes you think that would make me change my mind?”

He sighs dramatically, and you can’t help your smile growing as he turns back around. You return your focus to your laptop, but watch through your eyelashes as he sets himself into his prep stance once more. One attempt. Two. Four.

You can’t tell if it’s getting better or worse. You have no expert eye, but when Suguru falls onto his back and runs a hand raggedly through his sweaty hair, pulling on the ends, you know for sure that he isn’t feeling his best. You sigh, putting all your stuff down and getting up. He doesn’t raise his head at the sound, and your heart swells in sympathy at the fierce scowl twists his face.

Descending to your knees, your lips press together, and he tilts his head towards you. An arm has been tossed over his eyes again, and he lifts it a bit higher when he realizes you’re so close.

“This is embarrassing,” he admits. “I wanted to impress you with how unbearably talented I was at dancing, but I’ve been stuck on this part of my routine for weeks. To be honest, I thought the extra motivation would help.”

“Perfectionist,” you mutter, surprisingly fond. His face softens, and you help him sit up. He shakes his head, and you let your hand rest on his elbow as he hunches over, sighing. “Maybe you’re in a rut because you’re so focused on it.”

“You think?”

“Mmm, that’s how I feel when I compose something. If there’s sections that aren’t connecting the way I want, I just keep working and go back to it.” Sitting back on your calves, you shrug. “I get frustrated really easily, but I have a pride thing about it, so it’s been a hard road of figuring out that giving your brain a break actually helps see the solution clearer.”

You feel cold compared to the heat radiating off of him. When he offers a hand, you let go of his elbow to take it, and together, they stand. Your heart is pulsing at a mellow pace, but it oozes warm honey everywhere through your body, and it makes your limbs feel lethargic. Your mouth opens, and you wonder what you would’ve said, but Suguru merely grins and it silences you.

“You always know what to say, huh.”

“I’ve been freaking out about a lot of things long before I met you,” you answer, and he laughs. Suguru squeezes your hand before letting go and heading to where his phone is hooked up and you grab your fingers, the tingling that buzzes over your skin making you uncomfortable in your own skin. “What are you doing now?”

Pausing the music, he scrolls on his phone, and you’re about to head over, curiosity piqued, but he holds out a hand, concentration overtaking his features.

“Hold on one second… trying to find it, ah—here it is.”

He presses play and piano begins to flow through the speakers before a strong, hearty string accompaniment joins the instrumental, and Suguru begins to saunter over to you as vocals kick in. You barely hide your smile at the over-exaggerated way he bends his knees as he swaggers over, his body swaying like a piece of silk flowing through wind.

“What are you doing?”

“Convincing you to dance with me with my uncontrollable appeal.”

You laugh. “You’re doing a terrible job of doing it.”

“Am I?” He finally arrives within arms length, and his fingers reach for your forearms, trailing down to your wrists. Leaving trails of cold fire that cause your spine to shudder, you let him pull you into him, and you shake your head as he guides your hand onto his shoulder. His other hand clasps yours in a firm grip you can easily slip out of, and his eyes are on yours the whole time, gauging for any sort of discomfort that could flicker across your face. 

His concern is touching, but you can’t imagine even deciding to run now as his arm tentatively rests on your waist. You step closer, and his Adam’s apple bobs. A tiny nod to himself, Suguru adjusts his feet, shifting his weight in a easy, simple move to the music. 

“Maybe you’re not so bad,” you admit, tilting your head. Your hand on his shoulder runs down the curve of it, and you watch the sun hit his smooth face that’s not lost its pink tinge ever since you’ve come close to him. “You know how to lead.”

“I’m an excellent dance partner,” he informs you, and you roll your eyes.

“Don’t let me convince you otherwise.” 

You have never danced with someone like his before. It’s completely out of your comfort zone to be this close with someone who you aren’t already close with, but Suguru tells no lie in regards to his passion for dancing. You can’t deny you don’t feel out of place as Suguru turns them around the room to the beat as the music begins to pick up in the chorus. 

His feet are placed smoothly, and he guides you without you needing to glance around, but you’re not quite sure you could’ve looked away from his dark eyes either way. Dark, affectionate, his watchful gaze does not stray from your face for a moment. Hair nearly falls into his eyes, but every time, you brush it back behind his ear, and he smiles when you touch his face—not a full smile, but that one he does that pulls at the corner of his mouth teasingly. Like a secret shared between two people. A secret between the sun and the moon.

He lifts his hand to turn you a few times, and he always catches you as they disappear in between the violin, the sound of the singers breathing through their notes in heavenly harmonies, the consistent pattern of piano chords that you can hear as clear as you can feel your blood in your ears. 

Music is your life. You can’t deny it. That, and the intrinsic link it has to dancing. The expressions of the soul. Oh… Suguru. You cannot help but think of the poeticism of it. The romance of it all. Your rose-tinted glasses shift, catch the sunlight, and you can’t help your smile grow bigger as the music begins to fade. You and Suguru still step to their own tune that’s been strung into their bodies, and as he guides you into another spin, you realize then that you trust him entirely.

You trust Suguru not to drop you—or, at least, to break your landing when you fall for him.

Whether it’s to reciprocate your feelings, though you doubt it, you know that through everything he says, everything he does… he cares about you. You’re not stupid enough to deny that he has some sort of affection for you, and that he only has your best intentions, and you have to tell him. You have to tell him everything. Sukuna. Your feelings. Everything. It bottles up inside you, shakes so suddenly like a boiling kettle, that you think you might explode.

He stops your turn, and their fingers find each other easily this time, interlacing. Suguru’s smiling at you, and you lift your hand from his shoulder to brush a few stray strands back away from his face. He turns his face into your knuckles, and you poke his brow, pushing him back.

“You’re so clingy,” you mumble, secretly pleased, and he laughs. Nerves twist your stomach as you let your hand return to his shoulder. “What’s gotten into you?”

“I missed you. We haven’t spoken at all in person this week since the party.” His hand on your waist does not let go, and you let go of his hand in favour of draping your arms over his shoulders lazily. His free palm settles on your other side and they toddle, sway to a panel of sunlight where it’s warm. Suguru hums, slowly stopping their rocking rhythm so they can just stand in the golden beam. “You’re a good follower. If you were in our program, so many people would want to partner up with you.”

“It’s not hard to be a follower. The lead does all the work.”

“That’s not true,” he corrects. “It’s hard to let go of control and trust someone like that, especially people you don’t know that well. The lead has to know where they’re going most of the time and physically hold up their partner, true, but the follower has to let themself flow with the lead. If they resist, it makes everything impossible. They support the lead just as much as the lead supports them.”

“But I do know you. That’s why I trust you,” you reply. “If it were anyone else, I wouldn’t even let them touch me.”

“Hah. Now, that, I have some experience in.”

“So, you’re happy that I’m letting you so close to me, now?” Something playfully malevolent possesses your tongue and you nearly regret your next words as they fly out: “Nanami wasn’t this close to me at the Halloween party, if you’re still keeping score.”

He groans. “Don’t bring up my stupid lapse of judgement, (Name).”

“I think I’ll bring it up as much as I’d like,” you retort, grinning. “You got so jealous over nothing.”

“It wasn’t nothing. He likes you and you guys spent nearly the whole night together.”

“Well, whose fault was that? I wanted to spend time with you, but you decided to be all grumpy, but don’t worry, I haven’t seen him since.” You narrow your eyes at him. “Are you jealous again? He barely even exists to me.”

“I know, but—“

Exasperated, you shake your head. “Suguru. Why do you care so much? And I know I asked you this before, but… but Nanami’s not here. He’s not even—I don’t even have any way to message him,  and it’s not like he reached out, so why does it still bother you?”

“Because it’s stupid.”

“What is?”

“How much I wanted to be where he was,” he confesses. Each word presses against your skin in a plush, soft breath, and your heart shoots forward as he tilts his head, his nose brushing against yours. Stomach tightening, you swallow, lips parting. Suguru lets out another pained sigh, “Oh, fuck.”

His eyes find your mouth.

When Sukuna kissed you for the first time five years ago, it had been your very first kiss. You hadn’t known, truly, what it would spiral into. You couldn’t really see his eyes at the time, and in your dreams, they are swallowed by his shadows. In reality, his room had just been too dark to make out anything more than the shape of his nose, his chin, his lips, outlined by the light of his laptop screen. You couldn’t even watch it happen. It just happened. 

One moment, you were watching a show, the next, a mouth had pressed against yours softly, and you submitted to him. For years, you have wondered if the lights had been on, if you would’ve still been there. If the lights had been on as a witness to what your body was doing, would your brain have screeched to a stop?

You think of this now.

Not because you want to think of him. You don’t. You just look into Suguru’s face, and you think of Sukuna, who you can barely recall at this very moment, and you watch it happen this time. 

There’s so much sunlight in this room it’s almost spilling out of their skin, and you can see the way Suguru’s eyebrows twitch together. You watch his thoughts like a one-way glass; you can see into him, and he can’t see a single thing into you, and as he searches your eyes, your mouth, your face for the answers to questions you’re nearly certain he’s silently asking, a sinking feeling begins to rise into your stomach at how long it’s taking. Sukuna had been near instantaneous. You had initiated last time at the party.

But they’re both sober right now, in broad daylight, and they’re both more than aware of what’s going to happen. You’re aware of every atom in your body—the placement of his hands on your body, your arms over his muscled shoulders. You can see the pores in his cheeks, the small acne scars from when he was a teenager you didn’t know existed.

Wasn’t this how a kiss went? Don’t they just go for it?

“If you kissed me right now,” you mumble, feeling more and more uncertain the longer the moment drags on, “I wouldn’t be mad at you or anything.”

Yet, he still doesn’t move.

Why?

Because he won’t do it.

No.

Because why would he? 

You’re right.

Why… would Getou Suguru ever kiss you when he’s sober?

“I can’t,” he finally utters, and the little voice in your head crows in triumph. You draw your hands back until you’re holding onto his shoulders, but even that feels like too much and you step far enough that his hands fall off your body too. 

Oh… but you expected this, didn’t you? 

Fucking shut up.

A boiling oily feeling coats your nose and cheeks as Suguru scowls at the floor, fists clenching and unclenching. His knuckles blanche, and you stare at them, trying to ignore the burning in your eyes. The back of your neck prickles as he curses hotly. “Fuck. Fuck me.”

“What?” you intone, lifting your head with a deep breath and pasting a smile on your face. His head jerks to you, but you only keep that wry half-smile on your face. “Taking the rejection harder than me or something?”

A horrified expression seizes his face, and he grabs your arms suddenly, his mouth opening to explain in a rush. “No, no. (Name), wait—“

“Suguru, it’s fine if you don’t want to kiss me,” you tell him despite the ache in your heart. Gently pushing his grip off with the side of your palms, you pull away. Your face is burning with shame, but you swallow your injured pride in favour of appearing unaffected. It’s better if people don’t know how they hurt you. It’s embarrassing when others figure out that they can hurt you like that. 

After all, you’re supposed to be cold, closed off. Untouchable.

Except, you had decided you would tell him anyway, didn’t you? You’d tell him all about the hurt that has festered and rotted in your heart in hopes that it’ll clear a space for him to settle in.

Except, when Suguru reaches for you again so insistently, tentative shaking fingers at your wrists, you don’t feel as invincible as you’d like.

You’re a book open for his perusal. You’ll tell him. You will. He’s already denied you one thing, but if you want to be friends with Getou Suguru, you must be as honest with him as he has always been with you.

“Actually,” you finally manage to say, “this is probably a good thing. It was stupid of me. We both said we weren’t looking for… for anything, so it’s better not to complicate things with that sort of stuff. I get it.”

“(Name).” His thumbs stroke your wrists and you want to curse his name. “(Name), no, No, it’s not that I don’t… you don’t understand how stupid I feel knowing I said all that shit about you not being my type and here I am standing, wanting nothing more than for you to kiss me. Or let me kiss you.” He laughs nervously, and draws your hands closer to his chest. You can feel his heart thumping swift like a river against your knuckles, but you can only blink in response to his own words. “It’s just… I need to tell you something before I dig myself too deep a hole that I can’t get myself out, y’know, I—”

“I like you, Suguru,” you blurt out, and when those words leave your mouth, you feel so relieved you think your heart might float out of your body. Suguru’s mouth drops open and you twist your hands to take hold of his own, squeezing painfully. “I like you… a lot. Like in a ‘I want to date you’ way, which I know you don’t exactly fuck with, but, y’know, I can’t help it. Fuck, it feels good to tell you, but I have to tell you, I’m fucking mortified right now because I’m pretty sure I’m just digging myself a deeper grave.”

“(Name)… I…”

“And you don’t have to do anything with that knowledge. You probably have people telling you that all the time, so I just thought I’d toss my two cents while I’m here because it’s good to be honest, right? We promised to be honest. I’m not feeding your ego again after this so you might as well take this while you can,” you ramble, that smile digging deeper and deeper into your lips. He watches you with a sympathy that makes you hate everything as he lifts a hand to cradle your face. You recoil, turning your head away but he grasps your chin, forcing you to meet his eyes. “What?”

“Can I tell you a secret, (Name)?” he asks softly, and his thumb stretches up to rest just underneath the swell of your bottom lip. He regards you in a way that makes you shatter, and when he smiles, you think that a rotten part of you that died five years ago breathes to life—swells with blood, oxygen, knits together unnaturally to the side of you like a tumour. But it’s just you. It’s just your heart. “I tell every person that they’re not my type to let them down as gently as I can.”

A beat. “That’s not gentle,” you point out, strangled, and he hums.

“I know. I… it’s the best way I can put it. It’s rarely ever because of them, though.” As if that excuses it. At your silence, Suguru explains himself with a quiet tint of shame: “It’s… just I couldn’t think of someone who could change my mind on relationships, and there was all these people wanting something I couldn’t give them. I never wanted to date because it never felt like it would be worth it to open up to someone, y’know, and then break up with them and start over. There wasn’t anyone I wanted to get to know like that again. It was just a waste of effort.”

“Suguru…”

“I know. There has to be some deep-rooted fucking psychological problem with me because who thinks about the end before it begins, right? I never want to miss anyone ever again.” He chuckles mirthlessly and your brow furrows, your frown grows. “Then at the party, the idea that Nanami could have you drove me fucking crazy.”

“We don’t have to go over this again,” you tell him hastily. “I was just joking about it.”

“No. We do, because I don’t want to lose you to someone else more than I don’t want to miss you.” He strokes your bottom lip, and his face softens. In the sunlight, his eyes are clear brown, as if you’re seeing through crystals, and you reach up shakily to touch his cheek. He smiles as soon as your fingers brush his skin. “I was lying when I said it would be lame to care about it. It’s not. It’s actually so fucking not lame that I feel… I don’t know. I don’t want any other person looking at you, or talking to you the way I want to talk to you, but I was afraid you’d freak out if I told you, but I can’t not tell you when I get so irrational about it because I fucking like you.”

You inhale sharply. No. This has to be a joke. “You do?”

He nods. “I do. I’ll swear to whatever you want me to swear on that I do.”

“Y-you… you don’t have to do all of that,” you murmur, and he chuckles, touching your face everywhere, looking at your eyes, your nose, your brow where sunlight is dancing across your skin. He carefully pulls your glassess off, tucking them into his sweatpants pocket, and his fingers dust over your eyelids. Cupping your jaw, Suguru hums, amused, and you don’t know what to do with your hands. One of them is still on his cheek, the other over his shoulder, and although the silence swallows them, you think your world has stopped.

Getou Suguru likes you.

Getou Suguru likes you back.

This hasn’t all been for nothing. Your heart tripping in your chest, you try to figure out if he’s lying or if he’s joking so he can try to scam you for sympathy points, but as soon as you think it, a pulse of disgust rises up in defense of the boy. 

Suguru would never hurt you on purpose. Not like this. He knows. He has just as much on the line as you.

“Can I have my glasses back?” you demand quietly, and he laughs.

“You’re so beautiful.” His breath kisses your skin, and your lips part before you remember yourself, pressing your mouth into a thin line and swallowing hard. “So… so beautiful. I can’t stand it.”

“Stop talking nonsense.”

“‘M not,” he mumbles. “I wanna kiss you so badly. You drive me crazy, but I always feel like I’m finally a little bit more sane when I’m around you.” Your shoulders sink and he pulls away just to stare at your face. His thumb touches your under-eye, and he sighs. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you haul him into a hug, one he accepts fully with his arms encircling your waist. “I haven’t felt sane in a long, long time.”

“Suguru…”

“I need to tell you something, (Name),” he murmurs, one hand cradling the back of your head, the other wrapped around your waist. His heat seeps into your body—he’s wearing a freshly washed shirt, and he smells like his cologne and a hint of sweat. Every inch of him is soft, pliant, and when he tucks his head into your shoulder, silky strands of his hair fall through the crevices of your hand when you card your fingers through. “I don’t want to lose you.”

“I need to tell you something, too,” you whisper. 

“Okay. Okay.” He withdraws, and holds your face in his hands, before smiling. It doesn’t reach his eyes, but his effort shines through the dimple that pokes his cheek, and you touch it. You’d never noticed he had dimples before. “You tell me first.”

.

You sit against the wall underneath the barre. That’s where Suguru finds you when he returns with drinks from the nearest café on campus. Handing you a matcha latte, he grins at your glasses back on your face, and he reaches down to fiddle with them. You smack his hand, scowling, and he chuckles, sitting down beside you.

“How much was it?”

“I dunno why you even try, baby,” he says around a sip of his own coffee, and you roll your eyes, crossing an arm over your stomach and taking a stubborn taste of your own drink. Your lips twitch into a faint pleased smile, before you set it down beside you and look over at him. “So… we got drinks. Do you wanna talk about it or do you want a little more time?”

“No. I had time to think about how I wanted to say it,” you mutter, although you won’t look at him. He frowns around his drink. A part of him is secretly dreading what you’re about to tell him. It’s hard to decipher, especially when after that whole sunlight dance, you had detached yourself so robotically, and asked him to give you some time alone to organize your thoughts. Suguru can’t read your every thought, even though he likes to flatter himself with thinking he can read you better than most people, so he sits there, nursing his drink as you pull your knees to your chest, resting your chin on your knees.

“There was a guy in high school. He was my… first everything, I guess,” you utter at length. “He was sort of everything I wasn’t. I was a band kid, y’know, choir. Smart-ish. He was kind of like the bad boy. But popular, and it was sort of annoying because I didn’t really get it. He had all these girls trying to ask him out, but he was mean to them, so why the fuck would they want him?” A hint of a laugh makes his heart ache. You sound so nostalgic, so young, then. “But… then we became desk mates. It’s stupid, but I liked him because he wasn’t ever mean to me and I felt special. He was a bit rude, but he wouldn’t insult me over stuff I was insecure about, and he was really patient when I was dealing with things. We were friends, sort of. I guess. Friend circles didn’t mix, but we shared classes.”

Suguru thinks he has an idea of where it’s going as you unfold yourself, crossing your legs and leaning back against the wall. You stare at some far off distant point in the floor, but he only has eyes on you.

“I liked him a lot in my second year of middle school, but then nothing ever happened, and we drifted apart. I guess we were just too different, but there’s that feeling, I don’t know if you ever… but it’s like when you have these people in your life, and you look at them, and you think, ‘oh, I could fall in love with you so easily if I had the chance.’ He was like that person for me. I thought if I ever tried even a little, I could really like him again, and maybe I just never stopped liking him, because I wasn’t really interested in anyone else besides him.”

“Did anything ever come out of it?” he asks softly.

You nod, swallowing. A bitterness curves your lip. “In my second year of high school, we somehow… I don’t even remember how anymore. It just happened we reconnected somehow, and we decided to hang out, just the two of us. I feel like it was me who initiated it, because I feel so stupid about it.” Wistful: “It was winter. Not snowy. It was just beginning to melt, actually, and I thought we were just friends just going out for lunch. I thought… I thought he wanted to hang out with me because we were friends.”

His heart drops. A premonition of dread begins to grow darker and sharper in the back of his mind. “(Name), you don’t have to—“

“He invited me back to his house,” you whisper, trembling. “And we were just watching some show that we were talking about earlier. I don’t know how it happened. I just kept saying yes because I wanted to, I really did, and I thought he liked me. That he had sex with me because…” You cannot continue the sentence. Instead, you inhale sharply, and let out an agonizing exhale. “When he dropped me off at my house after, he texted me that he loved spending time with me, but he didn’t have feelings for me and that he just wanted to be honest so I didn’t get hurt further down the road. Isn’t that funny? It makes me laugh because I had to sit there, holding onto my phone, and pretend that my heart wasn’t breaking reading his texts. When he said he cared about me, but he didn’t want a relationship with me because we wouldn’t work out in the long run, he could see it, and that all we did… that all of that was pretty much… nothing to him. Man, I felt so.... so disgusting and used.” 

Raging anger shoots through his system as you shake your head and let out a quivering breath. “It hurts so much, in here.” A hand against your heart. Your eyes are closed, head tilted against the wall, and your lips are pulled into a grimace as if you’re holding back tears. Suguru’s entire body feels hollow as he watches your face scrunch up at the memory. “Why did he do that if he always knew he didn’t want to be with me?” You don’t wait for or want his answer. “And the worst thing is… I can’t ever bring myself to hate him. I can’t. I fell in love with him over the course of that day, and I… it’s so hard to get over someone you never even dated, Suguru, you have no fucking idea.”

A beat of silence. You inhale deeply, lifting your head from the wall to look at him blankly, and it clicks. The way you tried so hard to avoid his touch, your aversion for a relationship. You had given yourself to someone before, and they had discarded you like nothing.

“Something must have happened between him dropping him off at my house, and driving back to his own,” you continue with such a strong conviction that it makes Suguru’s heart ache. “Maki thinks he was just a fucking douchebag, but none of my friends knew him like I did. It’s been five years, and sometimes I think I can’t move on, but then I met you, and…”

“Do you still love him?” he asks tentatively, and your smile grows fonder, your eyes fall to half-mast as you regard him in that way of yours that makes him feel like he’s the only thing you see. Suguru looks down between them, his mind a swirl.

He already knows what he’s decided: he can’t tell you. He can’t tell you the truth. Not after this. Shoko can kill him for all he cares, but if she knew what he knew, she would fucking understand.

“When I first started liking you, I was so afraid that everything that happened with him would happen to me again, but you make me feel willing to try.” Your fingers stretch to touch his hand, and he takes hold of you immediately. “I’m telling you because it’s important, and I want to explain everything. Why I can’t move fast—why this is a really big deal for me. Suguru, please, look at me.” He sets down his latte and does so. “It still affects me. It still scares me, but I want to try. Do you… do you want to try?”

You’re so beautiful. Tentative with your heart in his hands, but open. You want to give him everything. You want him, and Suguru is a selfish boy with a liar’s tongue. He can’t hurt you now. Everything he wanted to tell you, the courage he’d been building up since he asked you out last night, crumbles to ash.

Because to say Getou Suguru is not a lover is not entirely true. He wants love. He needs it. But he is not built for love—not designed to be a capsule for it where it can age and ripen and grow into something warmer and hearty and healthier. He is a sieve. Everything will fall through no matter how fine, how big, a particle is, and he can do nothing but watch.

And you want to love him, but he remembers Riko, and Nanami, and now there is another figure in the corner of his eye that looks like a stranger, and you are in front of him, surrounded by all this shadow, untouched, pure in the light. You are the sun, unmarked by the noxious miasma that fogs his brain. 

His throat tightens. 

Riko’s youthful face is just like he remembers, flickering by your shoulder and smilling, completely unaware of anything happening as she speaks to someone. He hasn’t seen a mirage of her in so long. Not since she died. He used to see hints of her in the halls of the school, wisps of someone who used to be alive, and knows this is just a residual memory playing in his mind. 

An everlasting reminder.

But you would’ve liked her, he thinks. You are both too sunshine-like to not get along.

Because you are the sun. Hidden behind a cloudy, stormy exterior, Suguru has never seen someone shine quite so brightly as you when you finally let him in.

“Suguru,” you whisper presently, reaching to touch his face, and he blinks, head jerking to you. When had he even drifted away? “Are you still there?” Your fingers touch his cheek. “You look a little… lost.”

“I want us to work,” he insists, and his eyes close. “Sorry. I just was thinking…”

“You’re here,” you tell him softly. “And I’m here, if you want me to be.”

“Okay.” He nods. “Okay, I’m okay.”

“You’re okay,” you repeat, and he lets out a soft sigh, opening his eyes. “Let’s get up, and find something to eat.”

“I’m sorry. I’m all distracted when you told me all this stuff. I promise, it’s not because it’s not important, it’s because—“

“You’re thinking about Riko, aren’t you,” you murmur, and his eyes flash to you. “I can tell.”

“You can?”

“Relationships are a big commitment, and you’re… you’re sort of scared of commitment, Suguru. Dunno if you can tell,” you murmur, voice edging on teasing. It diffuses the heat inside him, and he slouches as you chuckle, coming closer. He lets you, fingers wrapping around your wrist to hold your hand against his face. Kissing the palm of your hand, he closes his eyes. “Could be because of her.”

“It probably is.”

“I mean, I’m not a psychiatrist, so…” you drawl playfully, and he lifts his head again, glaring at you in faux irritation. You smirk. “What?”

“You’re too smart.”

“Why else would you like me?”

“Do you want me to whip out my notes, again?” he asks, pulling away, and you scoff. “I can do it. I’m gonna do it.”

“Do not—“

“I’m getting up to do it.” Pushing himself to his feet, he begins to walk back to where he left his phone and you call his name, annoyed. He doesn’t listen though, content to walk like there’s a breeze beneath his feet. He just about reaches the table when something grabs his hand, pulling him backwards. His muscles contract, hauling you close as he turns around, and he catches you before they can knock heads.

“I don’t wanna hear about your weird lists,” you snap, eyes narrowed, but you don’t try to escape, and he chuckles, leaning in closer and rubbing the tip of his nose against yours teasingly.

“Why not, baby?”

“Because it’s embarrassing,” you mumble, turning your face away. He lifts a hand from your bicep to tilt your face back towards him, and he leans in close. “Stop,” you whine. “You make me feel so stupid.”

“What’s so embarrassing about me having feelings for you?” he utters softly, and you inhale, shivering in his hold. “Should’ve known as soon as I made a list of all the things I knew about you in my notes app that I was a goner.” 

Your eyes meet his, and he’s struck by the glow in your eyes. It’s not something physics can explain. Something more innate than science ignites Suguru from head to toe and he feels like he’s been ushered into a warm room after nights spent out in the winter night. 

You swallow, lips parting to speak, but he rushes to cut you off: to say you’re beautiful, you’re the prettiest girl he’s ever fucking known. But what comes out instead is: “Shit.”

You frown. “What is it?”

“Is it okay if I kiss you?”

Your eyes widen, and you struggle to formulate a sentence, before settling on a nod, your breathy ‘yes’ just barely reaching his ears.

Suguru lifts his hand to remove your glasses, setting them blindly on the surface behind them. He cannot take his eyes off you. The sunlight is just barely hitting your face, giving your skin a warm glow despite the coming winter.

And there’s that tiny little frown again, the one he adores so much. He needs to kiss that pouty mouth or he thinks he’ll starve.

Suguru kisses you, and his entire body cannot help but meld into yours. He pulls you even closer until you’re flush against him, his hands immediately cupping your jaw as soon as he feels your body against his. Your fingers wrap around his wrists gently, your mouth parting, and he feels your gasp in his body as his tongue tentatively slips against yours, warm and soft and velvety. 

You let out a soft keening noise, and a hot surge pulses through Suguru’s core, but he suppresses the desire and pulls back. Sucking in a deep breath, he returns with lingering, but chaste kisses, and your fingers dig into his wrists tightly as you push up against him, almost chasing him. It makes him grin against your mouth, and he draws back fully, thumb brushing the swell of your lip.

Your eyes open slowly, dreamily. You look so happy that Suguru wants to eternalize this moment. He doesn’t want to let another thing hurt you in this life, in this world. Not when he’s still here by your side. He wants to swear it, but he can’t, and all of a sudden, his heart cramps in his chest so intensely it’s like it’s reminding him that it’s still here, and still beating, still alive. 

He’s been here before, or something that looks enough like it. His mind reeling, his eyebrows knit together as he thinks back to earlier this week, to when he had said he couldn’t be your boyfriend. All the events leading up to that moment, even the positions their bodies had been in as he said it, are unclear blobs of colour vaguely resembling their costumes, but when you shift your body, his stomach tightens and he sucks in a soft breath.

They’ve been here before. Arms around each other, eyes shining with all the adoration a human being can possible encompass. Your legs wet against his from the hot tub. Your mouth burning from the alcohol as you kissed him senseless. His hands on your body, the sneaking glances when they’d returned, concealed by drunk giggles.

You burrowing into his hoodie as you fell deeper asleep on Satoru’s couch, relaxed and at peace in the remnants of their party.

Did you have feelings for him then? How far back did they go? Do they go as far as he’s willing to acknowledge his own? Or did they come closer to today, where they stand now, body to body, nose to nose. He wants to know. He wants to know everything. 

“Suguru? What is it?” you whisper presently, derailing his thought train. Their illusion is slowly breaking, and the golden bubble is rapidly disappearing as you frown. Suguru meets your eyes tenderly. Oh, you are the most precious thing, and he is weak at the knees.

“You’ve kissed me before,” he informs, scarcely audible. You flinch away from him, but he doesn’t let go of your waist, squeezing reassuringly. “I’m not mad. I’m just—“

“I thought you didn’t remember.” Horrified, you duck your head. “Shit. I—I didn’t want to tell you in case it didn’t mean anything. I… I thought you didn’t remember.”

“I didn’t. I just remembered.” Then, testing: “Do you remember anything?”

Your shoulders sink and you shake your head. A swell of relief tides in Suguru despite the guilt prickling in his gut. So you don’t remember what he said. That’s good. It’s simpler if you don’t remember stupid things he’s said.

Don’t get him wrong. He was honest with you back then when he said he couldn’t be your boyfriend, but that had been drunk thoughts, insecurity, and the secret of it all threatening to spill out of his chest. He couldn’t wasn’t the same as he shouldn’t or he wouldn’t. 

You regard him warily. “Are we okay?” 

Suguru blinks, and there’s that distinct feeling from his youth growing up side by side with someone like Satoru; that feeling of not being quite able to catch up. Mouth dry, he affirms, “Of course. I just wish you told me. Then, I wouldn’t have had to waste this week trying to figure shit out.”

“Yeah, well, I was scared it didn’t really matter to you. It was just a kiss, after all, and I didn’t want to ruin something over a thing I might’ve blown out of proportion when you probably didn’t care, so I… I don’t know. Y’know, I take that stuff kinda seriously.”

“Well, it wasn’t just a kiss to me,” he says. “You kissed me. The girl I like kissed me. I would’ve been fucking elated if I remembered.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah. And then, maybe today wouldn’t have been an elaborate, subtle, kind of vague ploy to get you to go out with me, and we could actually be going out for real right now.”

Your eyebrows shoot up. “Was this supposed to be a romantic date?” you ask curiously, and heat rises to his face as you carefully wrap your arms around his neck. He puts on a smile and shrugs carelessly. “Stupid.”

“Have you been on better dates?”

“Considering what I just told you, no. So, granted, you’re winning so far,” you tease. He opens his mouth to apologize, but you shake your head. “I get to make fun of it. It’s okay.”

“Are you sure?”

“Mhm. Five years, and I’m getting over it. Enough to like your sorry ass.”

“Well, sorry you fell for my good looks, charisma, and natural talent for everything.” You shove him away, scoffing, and he laughs, grabbing your hand again, and squeezing it. “C’mon. Something to eat, right?”

“You’re driving us somewhere, then.”

“Demanding me of something already and we’re not even five minutes into this relationship,” he jokes. Your gaze darts to him warily, and you cross your arms over your chest. He catches the shift, and he straightens up, smile shrinking. “What is it?”

“That’s what this is?” you ask quietly. Your fingers dig into your own biceps as you look away. “A relationship?”

He frowns, hesitantly asking, “Isn’t that what you want?”

“I… I do want it,” you admit, “but now that it might happen, I don’t know if I can do it. If I can just go out in public and say, hey, I’m dating the guy everyone wants to date. That’s just not me.”

“We don’t have to make a big announcement out of everything. We can just… see how it goes, can’t we? Play it safe and slow,” he murmurs, but you shake your head, looking doubtfully at the space between their bodies. “Hey, hey, hey. It’s really no big deal to me how you wanna go about this. I really do like you, and if you want to date, fine, if not… that’s fine, too.”

You deliberate this for a moment.

Then: “I’m just gonna this first before we go further that you’re not gonna fuck me.”

His body goes stiff. Not from disappointment, but just by the sheer amount of ice in your tone. “What?”

You turn to pick up your glasses from behind you. “We’re not having sex or anything today. If that’s what you’re looking for, tough luck.” You slide them on, trying to move past him, but he grabs your elbows insistently, keeping you rooted before him. You try to fight it at first, begrudging attempts at trying to rip yourself away, but Suguru is stronger. When you finally don’t try to run, he lifts an index finger to your chin, guiding your gaze back to him, and your face contorts, anguished and cracking apart at the seams. 

“Don’t ever think that. I’m not here just so I can have sex with you, (Name).”

“I know it’s out of left-field but most guys expect that, don’t they?”

“Yeah, but I don’t,” he insists firmly, trying to keep the irritation out of his tone. He knows he’s not annoyed at you and he doesn’t want you to mistake it that way. He’s pissed that you think like that, sure, but you have every reason. Fuck, if he could just… somehow heal that part of you, he’d give anything, but you’d hate his pity. Gentler, he adds: “I don’t like you just because I think I can sleep with you,” he says, appalled. “Do you trust me?”

“I do. I do trust you, I just I can’t…. I can’t put myself there without feeling gross, Suguru, and a relationship normally progresses that way, and I don’t know if I can do it now, or soon, or whatever your timeline is, so please, don’t ask that of me.”

“I won’t,” he assures you, as sincere as he can be. “I don’t need that kind of stuff. As long as you’re comfortable with everything we have going on, I’m happy, okay? And if you want to sleep with me, okay, if you don’t, all good. I like you, (Name). I always have. That’s not gonna change just because I can’t do something as trivial as sex.”

“I wish it was that easy for me,” you mutter, but he shakes his head.

“I like that you take this stuff seriously. I think it’s admirable, and romantic, and I like that about you,” he murmurs. “Believe me, it just inspires me to woo you even more.”

“Woo me?” you echo, sarcasm inked into your words, but your tone lightens. Suguru’s heart lifts, too. “How are you going to go about that?”

“Well, first,” he drawls, tilting his head to press a kiss against your cheek, “I take you out to dinner.” A kiss to your other cheek. “And then I take you to the beach.” Your eyes meet his, and he grins. “Hopefully there are fireworks.”

“So, it’d have to be a special occasion.”

“Mmm, and we could dance on the beach.”

“That sounds nice, actually.”

“You could lead me, too, and dip me over your leg to kiss me,” he suggests much to your dismayed expression, and he chuckles. “Just kidding.” He sneaks a peck, one that has your eyes closing, and you swallow, letting out a long exhale. 

When your eyes open again, they’re filled with a renewed vigour. 

“Suguru, you’re really sure about this? Boyfriend, and all?”

“If I wasn’t sure, I wouldn’t still be here. Believe me.”

You bite your lip and nod. “I’ll try.”

“Good enough for me.” Stepping back, he extends a hand towards you, fingers outstretched, and when your hand slips into his, it has never felt more like two puzzle pieces finally finding one another. 

You run to catch up to him, and your face is cupped by his free hand briefly, his lips seeking your forehead. You pause, feeling his lips brush down your temple, and your cheek pulls. He can feel your smile against his lips as he finally touches your lips with his own in a soft, lingering kiss.

Three words threaten to push against his tongue, but he pulls away, surprised at the urge to blurt out something he’s not even sure exists, so he simply settles on kissing your forehead again and pulling away.

“I can keep calling you baby, right?” he checks, and your nose wrinkles as you laugh, shoving his face away.

“All that, and that’s what you want to ask me?” A beat. “Yes, you can, baby.” You grab his chin, kissing his jaw, before letting go of his hand to gather your things.

“Well, I might wanna try other names.”

“Yeah? Like what?”

“Honey. Dear. Sweetheart. Flower.”

“I like baby, I think.”

“Baby?”

“Yeah. I’m just used to it.”

“Okay.”

You hoist the bag ont your shoulder. Suguru grabs his bag, too, grabbing everything he needs. Thoughtfully: “Flower is a strong contender.”

An idea springs forth, and he glances over his shoulder. “How about sunshine?” You’re adjusting your glasses, but you’re hiding a smile behind your hand as you meet his gaze. He thinks on it. “Sunbeam.”

“That doesn’t suit me.”

“Yes, it does. Go argue with a wall.” You walk up to him, and a faint smile graces his lips as he catches your phone camera sneaking a picture of him. Quirking an eyebrow, he leans over to see what you’re doing, but you turn away. Suguru peers over your shoulder, and a heat blooms from his chest when he realizes you’re changing his profile picture.

“You just changed it a few days ago,” he points out as you adjust the position of the picture. You look up at him, and he shimmies closer to watch you save the image. It’s slightly blurry, but it looks distinctly charming. Maybe because you took it. Resting an arm across your shoulders, he presses his nose against your temple. “Sunbeam.”

“Yeah?’ you mumble, distracted. You’re swiping through notifications on your phone, now, and he averts his gaze, focusing on leading you to the door. His hand slips into your free hand, and you finally look up when he closes the door behind you. Flattening your bag strap, you rub at your face. “Sorry. Got distracted.”

“’S long as I’m still your boyfriend,” he says, and the word settles so easily on his tongue he wants to say it again. Announce it to the whole world. He’s a boyfriend now. Getou Suguru is a boyfriend. 

He doesn’t think it would’ve ever sat right if he was someone else’s boyfriend—anyone else’s but yours. Because you roll your eyes, and you try to pretend it’s not a big deal to you and say something about how Maki’s going to hate his guts, but when they walk to his car and you climb into his passenger seat, you shyly press a kiss to his mouth before he pulls out of the lot, and sneak your fingers between his on the centre console.

There’s a soft melody playing from one of his CDs you picked. 

He squeezes your hand as he passes an intersection. You squeeze back, looking out the window, but in the reflection of the glass, he can see the curve of your smile.

a/n: thanks for sticking around and reading all the way to the end! please leave a reblog/comment if you enjoyed :)

tags: @thelameless @lucyrocks86​ @kentospet @id-rather-be-an-outsider​  @ys2800​ @tuzuis4thwife @pidwidge​ @xbookmanx​ @kaitlyn2907​ @butterfly-skinnylegend​ @rumi-rants​ @bloombb​ @mykyoon​ @waterlily502​ @hanabihwa​

[whumpywinterbun]

i need you closer. 2/2

Trying to talk about your problems doesn't always suck, Bucky. Especially with the person you like. A little too much. Or: Bucky Barnes smokes and talks about feelings and maybe gets the love he deserves.

Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader (something something somewhat around tfatws?) 

Part 2 of this 

(emotional) hurt/comfort (comfort. mostly comfort.), still a teeny bit whumpy?, mutual pining (idiots in love), istg this is fluffy 

Warnings: talk about panic attacks & hallucinations, smoking 

a/n: Part 2 is up! Thank you to the people who read Part 1 and might read this! Please tell me what you think of it, I haven’t written in years before putting this out at like 4am during my internship so... comments or asks would be appreciated!!! And also just in general I am nice I swear lmao

The sun shone through the curtains, bathing the room in a warm glow. You woke up under a blanket you don’t remember covering yourself with. You were reaching for Bucky’s side of the bed, blinking the sleep away when you realized that it was left, empty and cold. You got up, swinging your legs off Bucky’s bed and slowly making your way through his apartment. You called for him but answer came, so you looked around before entering his kitchen.

And there he was, standing behind the small island, pouring hot water in a mug. “Morning Buck.” Bucky looked up, a nervous half-smile on his lips before pointing at his mug. “You want some coffee?” You nodded, leaning against the door frame. He moved his head in acknowledgement, before turning around and taking another cup. He was scared, of you bringing up last night, of your reaction, you maybe finally realizing how messed up he is.

You were slowly making your way forward, joining Bucky at the kitchen island, opposite him. “How are you feeling?” you asked. “I’m... uh…fine. Yeah.” He couldn’t even look at you, keeping his eyes trained on your mug with knitted brows.

“Be honest Buck.” “I am honest.” “Okay.”

He sighed. “Listen. Whatever happened yesterday, I am fine. Okay? There-“

Your eyebrows raised. “Whatever?” Bucky tapped against his head, his lips a thin line. “You don’t remember?” Bucky shook his head.

“Well, at least not everything. I’m aware of some stuff but…it happens. I’m used to it.” He shrugged his shoulders before taking a sip from his coffee, hiding behind the large cup.

“You hallucinated blood, Bucky. You thought the floor, the bathroom, you thought that you were covered in Sam’s blood.” He froze. “You scratched yourself bloody trying to wash it off. That’s not something to shrug your shoulders over.” That’s not how you had planned to start this conversation. You wanted to sit down with him, carefully bring up what you saw and try to talk to him, not serving it with a cup of morning coffee.

Silence. Bucky’s mouth opened and closed again. He swallowed and put his cup down. “It just happens sometimes; it’s no big deal and I am really sorry you had to witness all that but-“

“No. No buts. Stop it. Stop pretending like it’s normal and okay for it to happen!” You slammed your hand on the island. Bucky’s eyes widened. “I- I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have yelled at you.” you stammered, hiding your face behind your hands, your lower lip trembling.

Bucky brushed his hand across his face. He didn’t want to have this conversation. He was aware that he needs to, if it’s not for his sake then at least for yours. What you saw and heard was a lot harder on you than on him. And it deserved some explanation.

Bucky grabbed the cigarette pack on the island, taking one and putting it between his lips. “You want one?” he asked, holding the pack up to you. You looked up from your hands, tears brimming your eyes. Bucky’s heart ached seeing you like this, because of him. You rubbed your eyes before taking a cigarette and following him. Bucky opened the window onto the fire escape, climbing out before holding his warm hand out to help you out.

The sun was shining, the last bits of the summer’s warmth enveloping you. You both sat down, Bucky pulling out a lighter and lighting up your cigarette before his. He took a drag. You took a drag. Somehow this felt a little like the night where you both first met, but you weren’t on the roof and you weren’t just getting to know your neighbor in the middle of the night.

“I’m sorry.” Bucky turned to you, searching for something in your eyes. Any sign in your pretty eyes that he didn’t mess this up.

“For what?” you asked.

“Making you cry, messing up, pretending like I wasn’t home. having you see the fucked up shit my brain does. Everything I guess.”

“You didn’t mess anything up, Buck.”

“Ah well.” He cocked his head to the side.

“Can you tell me what happened? I mean what…triggered… this.” you tapped ash out on a tray Bucky kept on his fire escape. A pastel pink one you gave to him after getting the confession out of him that he actually really liked the color.

“We were given wrong intel on the mission and I couldn’t stop myself from following through. We got some important information anyways but there was this ambush and- Sam got hurt. Shot.” He sniffed.

Your brows knitted in worry. “But he’s okay right?” Bucky nodded.

“He’s in hospital, doing better and is allowed to leave today or tomorrow but I don’t- I can’t- I don’t think he wants to see me. I wouldn’t want to see me if I were him.” Bucky looked at the ground.

“I don’t think Sam’s upset, Buck.” you reached for him, carefully putting a hand on his shoulder and you felt him ever so slightly leaning into it. “If you felt like not retreating was the right choice, there must have been something telling you to keep going. I’m not part of this…world you are in and how things work but it comes with an immense number of risks and every mission could end up like this for a number of reasons. I am just glad he’s alright and that’s all you should focus on for now.”

“I can’t really focus on any positives if there aren’t any.” He pressed the cigarette bud out.

“You are both alive.”

“Well, that could have looked a lot differently… because of me.” Bucky’s voice got smaller with every word, until it was barely a whisper.

You knew Bucky felt a lot of guilt, constantly, at all times. There’s guilt over wrong words, wrong decisions, wrong actions. It didn’t really matter to him if his actions were actually his, if his decisions were actually what he wanted to, not what he had to or, horrifyingly, was made to do. Sometimes it felt like guilt was the only thing keeping him going because without guilt, he could barely be a person. He would search for guilt in the smallest things life threw at him, because what, or who, was he without and what was he supposed to do if not feel guilty?

“Did you talk to him since?” you asked, gently stroking Bucky’s shoulder, where his skin connected to the vibranium. “Kind of. We talked for a bit a day after but I just couldn’t pretend like this was some lousy work accident like Sam did so I left. I’ve been at the hospital almost every day since but I just can’t bring myself to enter his room. I feel like any moment the bomb would drop and he would tell me to go to hell. I can���t lose him. Not him too.”

“Listen Buck…I know there are so many voices inside telling you that’s not true but I genuinely don’t think that Sam’s angry at you.” You were speaking softly, trying to get to him and somehow, maybe, worry less. Your eyes were searching for his blue ones, trying to get him to look at you.

“I’m just scared of losing him. To a bullet or the fact that I’m terrible to deal with.”

You grinned. “Ah…you are not THAT terrible.” Bucky snorted.

“You are a horrible friend to tell me that now.”

“No.” you laughed.

“Yes. Absolutely.”

“Na-ah.”

“A very, very horrible friend, bun.” Bucky leaned back, his back against the wall, the sun warming him. He looked at you, his mouth curving into a smile. Bun. The small nickname stuck, and what was first meant teasingly and made you cringe now gave you butterflies. You too leaned back, resting your head against his shoulder. “Sam loves-“ he grimaced. “Yes, Bucket, Sam loves you. You two can’t go a day without annoying each other because you can’t live without the other. If he were angry at you, he would have told you. Like. Right at the hospital.” He sighed.

“I mean…yeah. You could be right.”

“I am.” You looked up at him, seeing his eyes on you.

“He could also just wait until he’s out to kick my ass.”

“Not likely, Buck.”

“You sure?”

“One hundred percent.”

“Nice.”

Bucky took your hand into his and you two sat in silence for a while, looking at the city below you. His gaze kept wandering to you, wondering how he deserved you. Life was scary and for someone his age, he was terrified of living. But maybe, you, and Sam, made it all worth it. But while Sam was his best friend, his brother, he wished he could call you his. His bun.

Fuck it.

“Do you know why I like that ashtray so much?” He pointed at the small, pink thing next to you. “Because you, a very intimidating, tall, broad, old man, happen to like pink?” “Because it’s a gift from my favorite person, in their favorite color.” You moved your head, looking at him. His face flushed. “I’m your favorite person?” He nodded. You smiled at him.

“I…uh. I’m not really good at this whole thing.” Bucky sat up, suddenly looking a lot more nervous. You didn’t really know what to anticipate, but it surely wasn’t what you hoped it was.

“But I am glad to have you in my life. I don’t deserve you and yet you are still here and I don’t think I could imagine my life without you. You are possibly my first thought when I wake up and the last before I go to sleep and I want you to- I want-“

Your heart was jumping. Doing cartwheels. What was he-

Bucky took a deep breath. “I want you beside me instead of on my mind. In the morning. And at night. All the time, actually. ” He tensed up. You are going to leave him. Right now. This is the worst timing to confess your stupid feelings James and you are now going to get rejected and never see her again because you just could not be happy with how it is right-

Silence.

Oh.

Oh.

“I would love to.” You returned, beaming. Bucky’s tense shoulders finally relaxed.

“So that’s what it feels like to get your feelings reciprocated.” You chuckled, hiding your face in the crook of his neck. Bucky laughed, stroking your hair.

Feeling Bucky’s left arm wrap around you, you looked up. His right hand stayed on your head, slowly making its way towards your face. He put a loose strand behind your ear. He whispered. “Can I kiss you?” “Uh-huh.” He bit his lip before pulling you closer, his breathe on your lips.

Except Bucky’s phone rang.

You both snorted. “Sorry.” He apologized. “It’s okay, go get it. Could be important.” He got up, almost tripping while hurrying back inside. Bucky looked back, embarrassed and laughing, before picking the phone up without looking at the caller’s name.

“Hey Buck, would you mind getting me from the hospital?” Bucky looked at you. “Sam?” you mouthed, looking over the window. He nodded quickly before answering. “Yeah sure, give me…10 Minutes or so.”

“Alright. And Buck?”

“Yeah?”

“I know you were visiting me, we’ll talk about it later, you self-loathing dumbass.”

[thelov3lybookworm]

When Shadows Ward Off Darkness (Part 3)

Chapter 3

Prologue Part 1 Part 2

Summary: Making up and New revelations are in order

•○●⛦●○•

A/n: this part is again, a lil boring, if i say so myself, but its picking up, so im happy

next part will be fun to write 😏

@acotargiftexchange

•○🌑○•

During the whole time Gwyn and Draven had been friends, they had explored hidden and secret places in the kingdom and turned them into their secret haunts, some of them being a dilapidated building, a forest rumoured to be haunted, though Gwyn could not find a single troubled soul other than herself and Draven in that forest.

Unless they were the ghosts people were talking about, then the forest definitely was haunted.

The small strip of land walled off from the rest of the beach was one of their favorite places to spend time at.

The sun nearly singed Gwyn's skin, but she pushed on, determined to get to the beach and take a dip in the cool, calming waters.

All she could do was hope that she didn't encounter him there.

The beach was one of the places where Gwyn found peace, something about the waters calming her soul, and Draven simply followed her around as if he had nothing else to do.

Which, considering he was a prince, checked out.

But her luck had begun being cruel to her lately, and she found him pacing along the cliffside, kicking up sand in his wake, his obnoxious cloak fluttering behind him, and just watching him wear such heavy clothes, Gwyn felt the urge to rip off her own skin, the heat and sweat drowning her more than the sea ever did.

She decided to step forward, and then instantly cursed whatever part of her brain had decided that.

He whipped towards her, his throat bobbing as he swallowed.

"Gwyn."

She ignored him, beelining straight for the water glittering under the harsh sunlight.

"Gwyn! It was not that big of a deal, okay? You are mad as if I killed your cats with a stick." He yelled in frustration, following behind her.

She turned back to him, gaping. "I would stab you to death with the same stick if you killed them. And it was that big of a deal, because now I don't know what was real and what wasn't, Draven." Then something occurred to her. "Is Draven even your name? Or is that another lie?"

He sighed, massaging his forehead. "It is my name. In a way." Before Gwyn could ask the question, he answered. "It's my middle name."

"And what is your actual name?"

"Azriel. Azriel Draven Black."

Gwyn rolled that name around in her head, admitting to herself that it was a beautiful name.

"Will you listen to me now?"

Gwyn lifted her chin, huffing. "You have exactly two minutes."

Draven's- Azriel's- jaw tightened, but he nodded. "Fine. You wanted to know why I didn't tell you I was a prince. It was because I knew you hated royals."

"I still had the right to know who I was becoming friends with."

He gave her a look. "You really want me to believe that you would not have kneed me in the balls the moment I let it slip that I was even distantly related to the King and Queen?"

Fair enough.

"Look Gwyn, I did not ask for this life, and everyday I try my best to be worthy of it."

Gwyn nodded, not knowing what to say.

"Also, I am not a real prince. I was not born in the royal family."

Gwyn's jaw slid to the ground. "You really were picked from the garbage then?"

He blinked, his lips twitching. "Yes, Me and Cassian were, technically, picked from the garbage."

Her cheeks reddened. "Sorry. I did not mean to say that."

He grinned slightly. "Come, I'll tell you more."

•○🌑○•

It had been a few days since Gwyn forgave Azriel, and everything was going a little too well.

Something was bound to happen.

That morning, Gwyn found out that she was a half breed.

Half human, half merfolk.

She had been shocked, but not as much as she would expect to be.

She guessed it had something to do with the blood in her veins, how the way her body knew how to move before she did in water, how she knew how to swim before she even knew how to speak properly.

Currently sitting on the dining table opposite her uncle and next to her sister, Gwyn wondered how she had not figured it out earlier.

Catrin squeezed her hand, offering a small smile, and Gwyn knew she was pretending to not be affected by this information so she could be strong for Gwyn. But the disbelief in her eyes and her shaking hands stated otherwise.

"Why are you telling us this now?" Catrin questioned her uncle, who leaned back in his chair, sighing.

"Because according to the laws of the mer people, you and your sister have now come of age, and that means you must visit the queen, your mother, and stay in the kingdom for atleast a year. The queen will then decide if you get to leave."

Gwyn took in that information, her head reeling. "Why have we been living with you then?"

"The merfolk are a people who prefer to have the females in power, the goddess they follow dictating that females are pure and fertile, giving them the gift of life and having them rule justly and in a way good for the people. The males are either brought up by the blessing of the queen, or outcasted. Bearing a male child is a disgrace to the goddess, and despite it being rare that a mal is born, not many mer females like to raise the male child. The children who are removed from the mer society either die, or they are taken in by the mer people that worship the devil and live on the outskirts of the underwater kingdom."

"And how do you know about all this?"

Their uncle gave them a look. "I was one of the few half breeds, since humans are hated by the mer people, despite the half breeds proving to be more useful than a normal mer." He grumbled something under his breath that sounded suspiciously a lot like fucking mer standards. "Your mother, my distant cousin, sent you two to me to take care of until you were of age."

Until you were of age.

That did not sound like a blessing.

"And now what?" Catrin mumbled, her hand tightening on Gwyn's. Apparently she had come to the same conclusion as Gwyn had.

Their uncle smiled ruefully, standing and turning away to walk into his room. "You will be meeting your mother soon."

•○🌑○•

Taglist: @bubybubsters @eos-princess @nightless @harrystylesfan2686 @cassie6392 @bibliophiliaxvignette

[cryptidsurveys]

Friday, August 23rd, 2024.

First thing you touched this morning? Most likely my phone or one of my cats.

Last thing you yelled at? My dad was downstairs sneezin' up a storm yesterday, so I shouted a few "BLESSIN'S!" to him.

Is your car a piece of crap? Nope. It's around sixteen years old, but it still runs beautifully.

What’s something you’re looking forward to in the next 7 days? Visiting the Mountain Park - hopefully next Wednesday or Thursday.

What’s annoying you right now? This damn headache. It's been coming and going since last Wednesday and I'm just so over it! D;

When is the last time you looked in the mirror? After my post-animal shelter shower.

Would you have a long distance relationship with the person you are with now? I'm not in a relationship. In general, I'm not entirely opposed to a temporarily long-distance relationship, but I would make it very clear from the beginning that I'm not going to be the one uprooting my life in order for us to be together.

Who was the last person to make you really mad? Probably my mom during the initial stages of our reconnection. I didn't let her see the full extent of it (I mostly went home and grumbled to my dad about it), but I did eventually speak up and she's been a lot better about certain things since.

Where is the last place you had sex? Home.

Who is the last person you had sex with? A past partner.

Do you enjoy watching porn? No.

What’s your favorite drinking game? I've never played a drinking game.

Do you cry often? I would say regularly but not excessively.

Do you think someone is thinking of you right now? It's definitely possible.

Choose one to have (beer, cigs, or weed)? Cigarettes. An unfortunate habit I still haven't kicked. I quit smoking weed several years ago; the few times I smoked after that left me feeling dizzy, so I don't think I'll ever go back to it. And when it comes to alcohol, I have to be careful because it's very much a slippery slope. I try to keep it to rare/special occasions only.

Do you wish on stars? I wished on 11:11 earlier because I just want this headache to go awaaayyy.

Are you a big flirt? No.

What is the most disgusting prank you’ve ever done? Probably those stupid prank phone calls I made when I was a kid. It was the one and only time I was ever grounded for something, lmao. I was totally out of hand.

What would you do if you became pregnant? Ugh.

When did you last make out with someone? Was it good? Years ago.

Do you like your body? I've been pretty happy with it lately. It's becoming increasingly toned due to animal shelter work, and the way I carry myself is changing too. I'm starting to look more laidback and confident instead of hunched and anxious.

Are you a likeable person? Yeah.

Who did you dream of last night? I don't remember last night's dreams. I'm also falling so behind on my dream journal… Maybe later I'll try to jot down any recent fragments I can recall.

Whose body do you wish you had? I'm fine with my body. I just wish it didn't get so many migraines. Or ANY migraines.

What is the first thing you are going to do when you get home? I am at home. I showered. Then I laid in bed for a bit and listened to a YouTube video.

When is the last time you saw your mom? Yesterday. My parents and I went out for lunch at Pizza Ranch.

Have you ever been so in love, you wanted to get married? Yeah. Lol that yearning feels so unserious now. I truly loved those people, but I was so naive.

Did you get lucky on prom night? I didn't go to prom.

Is there a song that makes you cry? There are songs that have that potential.

Are you normally a horny person? No. I'm actually afraid of that feeling.

Where is your self-esteem from 1 (low) to 10 (high)? It's pretty decent. I'd give it a 6.5.

What color are your eyes? Hazel.

Plans for tonight? Just chillin'.

Plans for the weekend? Volunteering. I think Saturday will be a full day and Sunday might (?) be a half day - it just depends on who's going to be there. If they're short staffed, then I'll probably stay all day.

[mortwig]

Flowers In Your Hair

Entry for the amazing’s @wicked-remarks​ ‘ “Kink or Treat”! 

18+ EXPLICIT [minors DNI] - Peter Parker/Spider-man fanfic

Words: 4,8k

Pairing: fem!OC* x Peter Parker (based on TASM!Peter but flexible)

Summary: Flower Shop + Sex Pollen + (kind of) Professional Rivals

Tags: 18+ explicit, mostly strangers to lovers, smut, nudity, vaginal sex, mild praise kink, oral sex (both F and M receiving), no bed in sight, some fluff, all characters are 18+.

Song inspo: Flowers in Your Hair by The Lumineers

Moodboard: here

*[I say OC because it’s written in the third person, but can be read as reader because she uses a codename the whole time and her physical appearance is barely described]

The bell over the door rang for the third time that day, and Peter barely had the energy to look up. It was probably someone “just looking” or a tourist hoping to take some aesthetic shots for their travel log. Slow days like this made him want to close the shop and swing himself far far away from here. 

He had been trying for a good hour to focus on the physics problem due for tomorrow evening’s class. Frustrated from the lack of inspiration, he finally looked up to see a young woman admiring the carnations displayed near the door. 

“Good morning!” Peter said in his best customer service voice, stifling a yawn. “If you need anything let me know.”

“I will, thank you.” The woman shot him a smile that barely reached her eyes. She seemed focused... Too focused for a simple visit to the flower shop, Peter noticed. 

Peter’s tingle rang loudly at the back of his mind, pulling him off his stool. He cleared his throat and casually made his way to the woman. 

“They are just beautiful, aren’t they? Those yellow ones arrived only this morning.”

She hummed an approval and took a step away from him, now seemingly inspecting the coloured roses. 

“Disappointment.” Peter intended for his tone to be playfully stern, but it turned out harsher than expected. This caused the woman to turn, a mixture of surprise and mild panic taking over her features for a split second, before settling into a controlled expression of confusion. 

“Excuse me?”

“Disappointment, rejection. That’s what yellow carnations mean.” Peter smirked, leaning forward as if confiding. “But don’t tell anyone, I don’t think many people buy flowers to express disdain anymore.”

She laughed and took another step away, her hand now on the door handle. The sound of her laugh warmed Peter’s chest, and for a second he forgot he was suspecting her of… of what exactly? Of acting shady in a flower shop?

Come on Peter, get a grip, you’re just sleep deprived from the night patrols. He thought to himself.

“Let’s not give them any ideas.” And with another ring of the bell, she was gone. 

Peter stood there for a few moments, taking one last look at the yellow carnations before closing the shop for the day. 

-

It was around 1 am when Peter woke up in a cold sweat. Another nightmare. He got up to get some water. He tried to remember what the dream had been about. It was about work. Conventional work. Flower shop. But also, Spider-man? Carnations. Yellow carnations. The woman looking at the yellow carnations. What was she wearing? Wide-brimmed hat. Red wide-brimmed hat. Like that night about a year ago at the docks. Red wide-brimmed hat amongst diamond smugglers… 

Peter’s hand let go of the glass of water he was holding as the pieces of the puzzle fell into place in his brain. 

By the time the glass shattered on the floor, he already had half his suit on and was headed towards the window. 

-

It wasn’t often that criminals walked in through the door of the local superhero’s side job, Peter thought to himself. He hoped he wasn’t too late as he dropped down to the ground a few buildings away. Approaching by foot, he didn’t see anyone inside, nor anywhere around him. 

In the shop, everything seemed to be in order. He approached the carnations. He thought about the new provider who had brought them. Mrs Hernandez had said they had shown a lot of interest in getting the flowers in the shop as soon as possible. This was nothing new, one would think, in the flower industry. But even Mrs Hernandez, with 50 years in the business, thought their approach was odd. “Muy raros, Peter. But the claveles are beautiful, ¿no?” she’d said.

He was lost in thought when he heard a voice behind him. 

“Well well well. If it isn’t our friendly neighbourhood killjoy.”

Peter turned to see the now familiar red hat. The rest of the outfit was now black though, including a black cloth covering her mouth and nose. 

“Who would have known the one and only Spider-man had a side gig as a florist.” She gave the keys on the door a jingle. She chuckled as she circled the room to leave Peter between her and the door. A bold move, Peter thought. She really wanted those flowers. Why not just buy them during the day?

“I don’t work here. I just… I keep spare keys for the forgetful neighbours.” Even his tone was unconvinced.

“Yeah, sure. And you just happen to be inspecting the one flower I’m here for because your sixth sense told you to.” She rolled her eyes.

“Maybe…? Who even are you?”

“You can call me Scarlet. Logistics agent. Pleasure to meet you, Spidey.” She held out her hand but he didn’t take it.

“Black market contrabandist, you mean.”

“Depends who’s setting the terms for black and white. I only want to help people have a good time.”

“Right. Well. You seem nice enough, Scarlet, but I’m finding it hard to trust you and I think I’m going to take these flowers to the police and let them work out what could have you so interested in them.”

“I really don’t think you want to do that.”

“And why is that?”

She looked at him intently for a few seconds before responding, she seemed to be weighing her options.

“Listen. I don’t deal drugs, or arms, or blood diamonds, or anything that might hurt people. I just like bringing people pleasure in ways that may be… unconventional… but not harmful. I know we might not always deal on the same side of the law, but we don’t have to be enemies. I’ve been seeing you all over the news, and I know you hold your morals above the law. So if I told you these flowers could be a big problem if handled incorrectly, will you please let me go my own way so I can take them where they won’t be a problem?” 

Peter didn’t answer, so Scarlet went on. “Or are we going to have to fight? You’re really too cute to fight.” She was bluffing. She had a fair amount of martial arts training, but she was certainly not skilled enough to take on Spider-man. 

“Tell me more about them.” Peter said, and Scarlet wondered if he was just curious.

“That’s a terrible idea.”

“The police it is then.”

“Okay, okay. These are “carnations of life”, they look like common carnations but they hold some very… interesting properties. They grow only on a small island off the coast of Croatia and people all over the world pay exorbitant prices to enjoy the side effects of their pollen. The thing is, they must be transported at night, or else they wither immediately. But it is also during the night that the pollen works its magic. So what I’m going to do is put them in this container that I have in my bag, neither of us is going to breathe for about two minutes while I do it, and then I’ll disappear and we won’t meet again for a while, okay?” She was already opening the lid to the big glass jar and reaching for them. 

But Peter moved to intercept, now standing in the narrow space between her and the flowers, almost touching them. “Wait a second. You said you didn’t deal drugs. This sounds a lot like drugs to me.”

“Be careful, Spidey! If you even brush them the pollen will go everywhere and we’ll be in big trouble.”

But Peter didn’t move, Scarlet sighed but didn’t take her eyes off the yellow blooms. 

“These give you a temporary high of sorts but are not considered a drug because they are not addictive and they have no side effects past the initial reaction. Because there is a very small production of these flowers worldwide, the people who do know about them are very secretive. I doubt even the NYPD has ever heard of them.” 

“Why should I trust anything of what you’re saying?” 

“Oh, you shouldn’t… But wouldn’t it be fun if you did?” Peter could see the smirk in her eyes, as she leaned forward to whisper in his ear: “Oh I do wish we could try this pollen together, but I’m afraid the money I’m getting from this transaction is worth way more than a night of fun with Spider-man…”

The words and sensual tone sent a wave of arousal through Peter’s veins, and his eyes went blurry for an instant. Just enough for Scarlet to reach behind him and grab the flowers. They were already in the glass jar when Peter’s tingle kicked in and reflexively swatted the jar out of Scarlet’s hands. He saw everything in slow motion: Scarlet’s panicked eyes, the jar hitting the floor and cracking into four pieces, the carnations flying off into five different directions, the pollen turning glittery with the sudden movement and spreading all around them…

Scarlet knew better, and Peter should have as well, but the sight of the sudden million sparkling specks of dust flying around them made them both gasp in awe. Neither of them had ever seen something so beautiful, so mesmerising. And that one gasp was enough.

“Fuck.” That was all Scarlet managed to say before she felt the rush through her veins.

Peter was already stumbling backwards, gasping further for air as he felt his lungs heat up like embers. He pulled his mask off, asphyxiated. He saw Scarlet taking off her hat, mask and coat, seemingly feeling ablaze as well.

“What’s… what’s going to happen to us…?” Peter managed between heavy breaths. 

Scarlet managed to lift one eyebrow and attempted to smirk, but it turned into a pained grimace.

It took about three minutes for the pain to pass. Both of them panted heavily, catching their breaths. But Scarlet got moving quickly, drawing the blinds on the big window shop, making sure they were completely shielded from the outside. She locked the door with Peter’s key, which was still in the lock. Then, she picked up the shards of glass from the floor and put them in the bin behind the counter. With some brown paper, she expertly wrapped the flowers so they were sealed off as well as she could.

Peter felt so rattled he could do nothing but stare, confused. “Was that it?” 

Scarlet looked up: “No. I’m just making sure we don’t get hurt, or arrested, or in further trouble really. It’ll kick in any minute now.”

Peter could barely process her words. He could just look at her red-tinted lips moving, the way her hair was all out of place, some locks falling on her face. Her hands moving swiftly, red nails softly scratching the counter’s surface as she put away everything that was in her way. Dazed, he looked down in horror to realise he wasn’t just aroused, he was completely hard under his suit, which was oppressing him in a way he’d never experienced before. 

“Oh.” The pollen clearly had an effect on his reflexes as well because it took him a good minute to process what was going on. By then, Scarlet was in front of him, reaching for his neck and pulling him down into a deep kiss.

What had been confusion and delayed reactions instantly snapped into a desperate need to have her there and then. 

Peter quickly undid his suit and peeled it off, leaving him in nothing but his boxers.

Scarlet did the same with her clothes, now standing in front of Peter in a lacey red underwear set. She couldn’t help but stare at his toned figure, and Peter’s breath hitched at her beautiful form.

“This is very wrong.” He said, his hands already running up and down her sides, his dick pressing against her hip as he pulled her in close. “Is there another way of stopping it?” His words were coming out on autopilot, some better part of him subconsciously trying to do what was right. But his body was betraying him with every passing second, and his brain felt foggy with an overarching desire that engulfed every thought he had and tinted it deep red with passion. And he could not stop it even if he was really trying to. At least he was pretty sure he was trying.

Scarlet, on the other hand, was surprised, to say the least. This was her first time exposed to love carnations, but from what she’d heard, and from her own impulses at that very moment, it was basically impossible to question your actions under its effect. The superhero’s morals really were strong as steel. 

“Not that I know of.” She managed, between gasps as he sucked and bit and kissed a trail down from her chin to her collarbone. Her hands were firmly anchored to his hair in a desperate attempt to keep the balance her legs were refusing to offer.

“And you’re okay with this?” He pulled away briefly to seek assurance in her eyes as much as her words.

“Yes, please, Peter, I need this.” 

Peter stilled, confused as to how she knew his real name. Panic caused a new burn of adrenaline through his veins. His face must have shown it clearly, because Scarlet lifted an eyebrow, a cocky grin across her face, and simply said: “You had a very cute nametag on this morning”.

Some kind of relative relief allowed Peter to relax slightly. “Attentive to detail. Check.” He pointed out. 

“It’s part of the job, what can I say.” She shrugged and tossed her hair back dramatically. 

“Yeah? Well, part of my job is helping people in need. So let’s get to it.”

And with that, his arms circled her waist and he lifted her up. With her legs wrapped around his torso, and her hips grinding against his hardness, Peter’s vision blurred for a few seconds, consumed by desire now that he had the green light he needed to enjoy this. 

Coming to his senses, as much as he was able to under the influence of that damn flower, he unclipped Scarlet’s bra with one hand, while the other tentatively kneaded her ass. 

The moan she stifled against his neck spurred him on. He moved towards the back corner of the shop. Hidden under an intricate display of dried flowers, was a sofa. Once a luscious shade of green velvet, it was now faded and worn out, but it would have to do. With one arm, Peter pushed away the dried flowers, leaving behind a trail of petals and leaves which gave the sofa a new colourful covering.

He gently put Scarlet down on it, then quickly removed his boxers. Scarlet’s mouth opened slightly at the sight of Peter’s dick. But he didn’t notice because he was already pushing aside her panties, and diving his tongue into her wet core. After a few circles around her clit, Scarlet was a moaning mess, sprawled on the flower-covered sofa, one hand on the armrest and one intertwined in Peter’s hair. She didn’t even notice the roughness of the dried leaves still covering the sofa, lightly scratching her skin, or the colourful petals finding their way into the locks of her hair.

Peter’s index finger gently teased her entrance while his tongue continued to work at his clit. 

“Peter, please…” 

“Please what, pretty girl?” 

“Please don’t stop.”

And he didn’t. His finger went into her smoothly, her arousal providing enough lubricant for Peter’s middle finger to follow shortly after.

Peter’s mouth suddenly covered her whole clit and sucked, tongue still teasing her. At the same time, his fingers curled, hitting her G-spot just at the right time to send her spiralling.

Whether it was Peter’s skill or the pollen’s effects, or both, the orgasm that hit her was nothing like she’d ever experienced before. Peter’s hand carried her through it all, until she was panting and pulling at his hair. He kissed her gently, his breath heavy.

“Tired already, Spidey?” 

“No, just extremely turned on right now. So if you don’t mind…?” He held his dick in his hand, his tip stroking her sensitive clit.

“I do not.” She smirked through her hazed expression. He entered her with one smooth slow stroke, stretching her and filling her up deliciously. She moaned at the feeling.

“You make such lovely sounds for me.” He started with slow strokes, letting her adjust to his size and slowly prepping her up for her second orgasm. When she started lifting her hips to meet his thrusts, he caught the hint and started picking up the pace. Her hands travelled up and down his chest, up to stroke his hair, and down his arms, tense from hovering above her on the sofa. His grunts were getting louder by the minute, and she could feel him getting close. 

But he had other ideas in mind, so he picked her up swiftly and bent her over the armrest, her hands clutching at the old velvet while her legs opened for him. He pushed a hand between her hips and the sofa, his fingers expertly applying the right amount of pressure to her throbbing clit. He entered her once more, the new angle letting him hit her sweet spot every stroke without fail.

She gasped as she felt the wave of pleasure about to hit her.

“That’s it, come for me, sweet thing. You’re doing so good for me.” The praise was enough to send her over the edge, and her muscles spasmed around his dick. A few more strokes and he was pulling out, his cum spurting onto her back. 

He pinned his hands at either side of her on the sofa, panting into her ear. They stayed there for a few minutes, catching their breath.  

“Don’t move, I’ll be right back.” he whispered softly, before kissing the back of her neck.

About a minute later, she felt him gently wipe her back with soft tissue. 

“Thank you.” She said quietly. 

“Is that it, then?” Although he tried hard to hide it, Peter sounded almost disappointed. 

She turned around, plopping down on the sofa and making herself comfortable. 

“From what I hear, it comes and goes in waves. The effects can last anywhere between 2 and 6 hours.”

His face remained serious, but Scarlet thought she saw a glint of mischief in his eyes. 

“Better rest up before it hits again then.” He said, lying down beside her, his arm lifted up above his head tentatively. She raised her head and he put down his arm for her to rest on. He stroked her hair softly, admiring the contrast of the dried flowers against her now messy hair.

He smiled to himself. This was all so wrong, but it felt so good.

-

Scarlet didn’t know how long she’d slept for. But it was still dark outside and Peter was not cuddling her anymore. She felt odd. When she moved, she worked out why. She was soaking wet between her legs. She blinked a few times, trying to come to terms with her sudden arousal. She looked up to see Peter leaning against the counter. He must have not noticed her sit up, because he didn’t react. When her eyes adjusted to the light, she saw why. He was slowly stroking his dick in his hand, eyes closed and head thrown back.

She slowly approached him. He was so entranced he only opened his eyes when she was standing in front of him and whispered: “Do you need some help with that?”

She dropped to her knees in front of him, replacing his hand with hers. He said nothing, just looked at her with pure adoration and nodded. 

“Fuck.” Was all he could muster when she teased his tip with her tongue, her right hand moving up and down his length.

Slowly, she took him in his mouth, her hands moving to hold his thighs for balance and leverage. She started bobbing her head, hesitantly at first, but with more confidence when Peter started moaning and gripping hard at the counter’s edge. She couldn’t quite get his whole length in her mouth, though she tried to, so she focused on using her tongue to find his sensitive spots instead. It must have worked, because shortly after, Peter roughly grabbed her hair and pulled her away. “Careful, sweet thing, or you’re going to end up with a salty tongue…” 

“But what if I want to?” She pouted at him playfully.

He gulped, clearly having to restrain himself from shoving his dick back in her mouth. His hand pulled her hair back a bit more so her neck was exposed to him. “Maybe another time. But I’m stretching this out as much as possible.”

He tugged at her hair so she stood up. He picked her up and sat her on the counter. One stroke of his fingers over her entrance revealed her wetness to him. So this time, he didn’t even wait for confirmation. He went in immediately and his fast, shallow strokes caught her breath. She held on to the nape of his neck, panting heavily straight into his ear.

“Peter, you feel so good. Don’t stop. Yeah, right there. Shit.”

Sucking him off must have turned her on more than she realised, because before she knew it she was biting into his shoulder to stifle her moans, and her body went limp against his firm chest while he fucked her through her orgasm. 

He slowed down, pumping long and deep into her while she caught her breath.

“Can you do that thing again?” she whispered, hazily, avoiding eye contact. 

“Do what again?” he was clearly distracted, his eyes focused on the point where their bodies met, soft wet noises mixed with their heavy breaths. 

“Bend me over and fuck me from behind?” this brought back his attention, finally noticing the embarrassment on her face. This was the first time she’d looked insecure. He thought about teasing her, but being honest to himself, it turned him on even more (if that was even possible) and he loved that she was making suggestions.

“With pleasure, sweet thing.”

Scarlet was once again impressed by Peter’s ability to move her around effortlessly and with extreme care. She realised, if he wanted to, he could really hurt her. An odd warm feeling rose from her stomach up to her chest. She tried to shut it off, but she knew exactly what it was. How rare was it to find a guy who wouldn’t go straight for his own pleasure, even despite a feeble attempt at foreplay? Maybe losing tonight’s deal was not so bad… Maybe a night with Spiderman really was worth it...

The thought vaporised into thin air when Peter entered her, hitting that critical spot again. Her recent orgasm had everything feeling extra sensitive, so it almost felt like she was thrown straight into the rollercoaster of pleasure again. She moaned louder than she intended to, her nails digging into the edge of the counter, her toes barely touching the floor. Peter’s hands had been traveling up and down her back, stroking the sensitive skin on her sides: from the side of her breasts down to her waist and her hips. But now, he was holding her ass cheeks apart, and from the low moan that escaped his lips, Scarlet could just assume he was enjoying the view. His thrusts were getting sloppy, so she gently squeezed her walls around him. He huffed loudly, his hands landing roughly at either side of her on the counter. 

“You certainly know what you’re doing.” He breathed into her ear.

“Whatever could you mean by that?” She tried batting her eyelashes, but all she managed was a hint of an innocent smile. At the same time, she squeezed again, and pushed her ass back into him, catching him off-guard.

“You fucking tease.” He tried to laugh but it came out as a breathy moan instead. A few more thrusts and he was collapsing on her again.

-

Scarlet woke up suddenly, gasping for air. She felt disoriented, but faint sunrise light came through the shut blinds which helped her get her bearings quickly. Peter was behind the counter, holding a mug. The smell of fresh coffee, mixed with the scent of the flowers that surrounded her both on the sofa and all over the floor, was positively intoxicating… Albeit in a more subtle way than the yellow carnations still sitting on top of the register, neatly packed away.

“Hey, you okay?” He was walking towards her, looking concerned. His Spiderman suit was on up to his waist, the top half hanging loosely over his hips.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Scarlet rubbed her eyes and yawned. When he sat next to her, he offered her her clothes, which he must have picked up from around the shop. 

“Are you feeling better?” There was something in his eyes as he said so that she could not decipher. 

“Better… I think so, yes.” Her tone was unconvinced, but she didn’t know why. She did feel better. Although the sight of Peter’s bare chest was still sending a tingling to her core, and looking into his chocolate-brown eyes felt like shaking a jar of butterflies in her stomach. Although, for the latter, she doubted it even had anything to do with the carnations. 

“I’m just… very tired.” She stifled another yawn, trying to think of a good excuse to call in sick to work. 

She started putting on her underwear. She giggled softly when she noticed Peter was entranced looking at her, now clad in red lace. Peter’s eyes widened and then looked away when he realised what he was doing. He cleared his throat awkwardly while making his way to the counter quickly. Scarlet caught a glimpse of what must have been quite an uncomfortable erection, but Peter said nothing. 

“Coffee?” he asked casually, but he was still not looking in her general direction.

“No, thank you, I think I’ll go straight to bed.” 

“That sounds very sensible. I’m jealous, Mrs Hernandez expects the shop open at 9 am sharp and the only good enough excuse for her is death.”  

Scarlet was honestly surprised. She really thought Peter would try again, to get it out of his system. He was obviously still under the influence of the carnations. Even if it hadn’t been visually evident, she could feel it still running through her own veins. And she’d given him the green light last night already. However, ever the perfect gentleman, he was doing his best to act normal.

“I need to go home, have a shower, get some clothes appropriate for shop keeping, you know… Do you want me to drop you off somewhere?”

“Drop me off…?” 

“I can swing you home if you want.”

“Wow, Spidey… Are you trying to find out my address?” she smiled teasingly, adjusting her hat in place.

“What? No, no. Not at all. I could call you a cab?” He was fiddling with his mug anxiously. Against her will, she thought it was terribly endearing.

“I can make my way home. Thank you anyway. You can ask for my number though, if you want to.” She batted her eyelashes playfully. 

Peter still hesitated.

“It feels wrong, what with you being a criminal and all.”

“Depends what your definition of “criminal” is, Mr Vigilante.”

“Please tell me you don’t read that Daily Bugle crap. It’s all lies, you know?”

Scarlet laughed at Peter’s disgusted face. The sound filled the flower shop, sweetening the already scent-charged room. Peter couldn’t help but smile, and the sight warmed Scarlet’s chest. She slipped a card from her pocket and placed it on the counter. 

“I can give you intel that will help you take down real criminals if you give me leeway to continue my harmless operations.” She leaned over the counter to kiss his cheek, and before Peter could react, she was already by the door, carnations under her arm, smiling back at him. “And you can also take me out to dinner.” 

Peter’s hand lightly touched his cheek, where her lips had been, lost in thought for a few moments. He was brought back to the present by his phone alarm, reminding him he had to get home quickly if he didn’t want to face his boss’ wrath. 

He was swinging just a few streets away when he saw her, walking with purpose towards a subway station. He swung low, taking advantage of the still fairly empty streets and passed mere centimetres away from her. 

“You still have flowers in your hair!” He shouted, tossing a lock of her hair back. Her startled jump almost sent her into orbit, and Peter couldn’t help but laugh. What a shame he couldn’t hear her most-likely angry response. Here was to hoping she’d forgive him once she read his text:

7 pm Friday - Moondance Diner? Strictly (un)professional.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for not saying goodbye to my husband’s friends from childhood?

I (24F) am a white American, my husband (25M) is a black immigrant from a country in the Caribbean. Where we live, there aren’t many people from his country and he has few opportunities to speak his native language. But a family friend from his childhood came here recently and he invited the friend over for dinner. The friend and his wife said they’d come over a few days in advance and I was excited and made plans for dinner, but the day of, they canceled. I was a little annoyed because I already had all the food and everything but I was like “ok whatever.”

Well the following Saturday, I was stressed about work and stuff and in a bad mood, and was looking forward to catching up on a show I liked. When I finally sat down to watch, my husband said his friends who canceled the week before were going to be here in an hour and asked me to clean up. I was annoyed bc they canceled when I was planning on them and rescheduled last min when I wasn’t planning on hosting or spending the evening with anyone, but I helped clean up and prepare. They got here, and I tried to be a good host, but I admit while I wasn’t rude, my attitude wasn’t super warm and friendly. They didn’t want dinner so we offered juice and stuff. I tried to be present in the conversations but 1) I’m very shy and 2) they were talking about 60-40 their native language to English, so I didn’t know what was going on more than half the time. (I do love that language and am trying to learn on DuoLingo but it’s hard. I’m also glad he has people to talk it with, it just leaves me unable to participate much). Also, tbh most of the conversation was suggestive jokes and joking about each other’s sex lives and as an ace person I don’t really feel comfortable with that kind of conversation particularly with people I don’t know very well. So I kinda just zoned out, and I kind of have an RBF so I guess I looked not happy to be there. Anyway, we watched a James Bond movie I wasn’t interested in so I was on my phone a lot, then I went upstairs to get ready for bed because it was almost midnight and I was tired.

After I was ready for bed, I wanted to say goodnight to the friends, however one of them had to record a video for an online class and send it in before the deadline in like an hour. So he got on the computer and went into the stairwell and his wife got on her phone and went to the kitchen so they could record the conversation and submit it. Which meant I was stuck upstairs (unless I wanted to pass the guy in the stairwell and show up on his video) and I’d have to wait for them to finish recording the call before I could go to bed. Well, I was tired so I just lay in bed and ended up falling asleep. Around the 12:45, my husband woke me up by coming into the room and turning on the light to give the friends a tour of the house and I grumpily growled “I’m asleep! Turn off the light!”

The next morning, my husband was livid at me. He said the way I treated them was horrible and rude, I wasn’t paying attention during the movie, I didn’t even say goodbye (which greetings and goodbyes are a big deal in his culture), I growled at them when they came into the room for the tour, I was “acting like a bitch” to them the whole night, and he felt like he invited them to his house only for me to act racist and like I’m better than them. I feel terrible that my actions could be perceived that way when in reality I was just tired, shy, a little grouchy because these plans were sprung on me last minute, and out of the loop (because I didn’t understand a majority of the conversation). But I think the whole cancelation and then last minute rescheduling and expecting me to be a good, present host late into the night wasn’t cool. If it had been last week, I would’ve been prepared with dinner and also mentally, since I’d be planning on hosting people. Also would’ve been nice to be made aware beforehand that we would be entertaining guests until 1 AM, so I could be planning on it.

So AITA?

What are these acronyms?

[meggie-stardust]

20 Questions for fic Writers!

Tagging myself via @lucky-bishop because I'm half bored, half a bit loopy on benadryl... And same suggestion; if anyone else wants to do this, say I tagged you <3

1. How many works do you have on AO3? 73?! Wow that surprised me.

2. What’s your total AO3 word count? 403,636

3. What fandoms do you write for? These days, mostly Teen Wolf, but I've written a lot for Merlin, Percy Jackson, BBC Sherlock, Gundam Wing, and assorted others over the years.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos? 1. Acts of Man (Merlin/Arthur, Merlin): On the morning of their Annual pre-Christmas Dinner, Merlin is shocked to find out that Gwen thinks his boyfriend, Arthur, isn't good enough. But after a glimpse into Merlin's quirky flat, Gwen realizes that she might not have the whole story. 2. Nightmares (Jason/Percy, PJO): Percy feels lost and alone after returning from Tarartus. And if that's not bad enough, he can't sleep without having horrifying nightmares. Luckily for Percy, Jason is the one person not avoiding him, and the one person that has offered to help. 3. Looking for the Thing We Lost (Stiles/Peter, Teen Wolf): But the thing is that Stiles had already been forgotten by everyone. 4. Here I Am (Stuck in the Middle With You) (Jason/Percy, PJO): Percy and Jason's mission gets derailed when they find themselves trapped in a room with no way out. Luckily, they find a way to pass the time… 5. Know How A Man Becomes a Beast (Stiles/Peter, Teen Wolf): Peter took a steadying breath and stepped into room. He held up his hands and walked forward slowly, the way he would approach any wild animal. “Stiles. It’s gonna be ok.”

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not? Yes, I try to, even it take a while -- at least on my newer fics. I haven't gone back to things from like 10 years ago to reply to old comments that I missed, but I try to keep up. I want people to know I appreciate the time they've taken to read and react to my fic, and you never know if you're going to connect with someone new and make a new fandom friend.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? Give Me Pure Energy (Stiles/Peter): the alternative season 2 where Stiles craves some normalcy and befriends a new kid in his econ class, only to realize that maybe they both want more from each other than just a simple friendship. This is a super darkfic anyway, and has the kind of ending that's happy only if you're ok with all the awful things that Peter does during the fic... but generally, I like my angst with a happy ending so this is the best I can do.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? Oh gosh, so many of my fics have happy endings... that's how I like em... uhhh. I'm going to go with one of my all time favorites:

Stuck Between Stations (Stiles/Peter): the one where Peter and Stiles are stuck in a time-loop inside The Wild Hunt.

8. Do you get hate on fics? I have been so lucky to not get much hate. If people are talking about my work behind my back, it's not getting back to me. And aside from an odd comment or two, I've gotten through about 20 years of fandom without having to deal with random hate.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind? yes. I've written m/m, m/f, f/f, and, I think an m/m/f once... but I'm into all sorts of things and have fun writing about it

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written? I have in the past; a Harry Potter/BBC Sherlock x-over that got abandoned. I've also done a few prompt challenges that lead to crossovers/fusions like SPN meets MJN Air, etc.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen? god, I hope not!

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? Yes, I have been so lucky to have a few of my fics translated into different languages. It's always such an honor, and I give full permission for people to translate my work as long as they connect it back to mine on AO3.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? I have but it's been ages. And I think there may be someone *cough*@punchedbymarkesmith*cough* that would be great to collaborate with if an opportunity presented itself...

14. What’s your all time favorite ship? Steter it would seem. I've been reading and writing it since 2016...!

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? I fully intend to finish It's Only Forever, but I've used some of the ideas for it in other things, so I know it will be hard to get back into where I was going with it. I don't want to abandon it, but it's been a few years... le sigh.

16. What are your writing strengths? I think I'm pretty good with dialogue, especially banter. I think I'm also great at taking a small detail from canon and using that to world build something different.

17. What are your writing weaknesses? Oh, that's easy: action and mystery. I really wish I could write a good casefic or mystery plot, and I just can't. I have to distract and misdirect at the end... I have to do the same with the action, too.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic? I don't trust myself. I might confer with someone who speaks that language if it was really needed, but I would probably do something like:

"Wow, I can't believe you survived that helicopter crash," he said in Spanish.

19. First fandom you wrote for? Gundam Wing, followed my Newsies and Harry Potter.

20. Favorite fic you’ve written? I already gave a call out to Stuck Between Stations above, so I'm going to have to go with:

At This Truth We Have Arrived (Stiles/Peter): Five years after the death of Laura, Peter returns to Beacon Hills only to be confronted by the truth that the pack has moved on without him. But the fact that everything he once knew has changed isn't necessarily a bad thing; not when there is someone like Stiles who is so full of possibilities.

OR as my WIP notes for this fic say: "Peter is curious. They do something. Murder murder. Sex sex."

[bitbybitwrites]

specific ask game 7, 13 and 18 !!!!

7. what animal do you look forward to seeing when you visit an aquarium?

Dolphins, Otters, Turtles or any fish that has pretty colors. I'm all for the pretty things. Oh jelly fish are kind of hypnotic to watch too.

13. first thing you’re doing in the purge?

Lord, I'd probably board my house up and hunker down and try to enjoy the time not going to work and all. How boring am I.

18. your boba/tea order?

You might regret asking me this one 😂

1.) I love bubble tea. My usual go-to is mango or passionfruit or pineapple bubble tea. Black tea. Over ice and half boba/ half coconut jelly( nata de coco) . If I'm crazy and am in the mood for the dairy, I'll take a coconut milk tea over ice again with the half boba/ half coconut jelly. Taro milk tea with boba is pretty good too.

2.) I'm also a BIG tea drinker in general. I usually take it without milk and a teaspoon of honey. My usual go to first is Twinings Earl Grey . After that, these are some of my favorite blends, in no particular order:

Twinings Prince of Wales

Twinings Lady Grey

Twinings Darjeeling

Twinings English Breakfast

Twinings Blackcurrant Breeze

Harney and Sons Victorian London Fog

Harney and Sons Tower of London

Harney and Sons Lunar New Year

Harney and Sons Paris

Harney and Sons Royal Palace Tea

Stash Tea Holiday Chai

Stash Mango Passionfruit (herbal)

Stash Coconut Mango

Stash Christmas in Paris

Stash Christmas Morning

Bigelow Toasted Coconut Almond Bark

Celestial Seasonings Chamomile Lavender (herbal)

Nina's Marie Antoinette Tea ( Black tea with apple and rose from the gardens of Versailles)

Nina's The De Anges (Black tea with strawberry and vanilla)

Jasmin Pearl Tea (any brand)

I have tons more here herbal, black., green, white teas . . but if I list them all this post would be ridiculously long. 😂😂😂😂

Thanks for the ask, @kurtsascot !

If you want to play