#anyway back to rewatching the comfort seasons

[wistfulwatcher]

[waterfallofspace]

When a character has not only a canonical allergy, but a reoccurring canonical allergy >>>>>

Especially when there's no actual reason for it to occur again?? Just cause they wanted to?? An almost entirely sneeze/stuffed up driven allergy.... 🔥🔥

[marvel-spidey]

Safe and Sound

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader

Word count: 3.2k

Summary: After a difficult night on patrol, Matt comes back home feeling like he can't do it alone. Luckily, you're there to remind him that he doesn't have to. Inspired by the song "Safe and Sound", by Taylor Swift. You can listen to it here.

Warnings: Mentions of a mild panic attack. Besides that, just a lot of comfort <3

A/n: I've been rewatching Daredevil season 2 and this fic was created out of the pure and irrational urge that I have to protect and comfort this man at all costs. Also, this is my first time writing for Matt. Enjoy! - - - -

New York City felt different that night. Noisier. Louder. Matt sensed it the moment he went outside the rooftop exit of his apartment. Sirens wailed in the distance, coming from every direction, their urgency bleeding into the restless city. Screams, footsteps quickly pounding against the pavement. The sounds echoed off the buildings, rattling through the streets like a warning, setting him on edge before he even reached the ground.

He knew the city would need him that night. Nights like these reminded him why he did what he did, why he had to leave you behind, even though it crushed him every time. He knew you always waited up for him, no matter how many times he begged you not to. He knew you couldn’t sleep until he came back, because you worried, not just if he’d return in one piece, but if he’d return at all.

He hated the nights he came back hurt, knowing how scared you got at the sight of his bloody suit or the open cuts on his skin. He could always hear the trembling in your hands when you stitched him up, even though you tried so hard to hide it behind a reassuring smile. But he was so proud of you. You were getting good at this. And more than anything, he was grateful. Grateful that you were there every night, waiting for him. Grateful that, no matter how brutal the city was, he had a home to return to.

He went out that night, already anxious to return. To your touch, to your scent, to your voice, the few things that always brought him back when everything became too overwhelming.

You watched him disappear through the little upstairs window, whispering a silent prayer to whatever God was listening to bring him back safe. You did it every night.

Pulling your blanket up to your neck, you adjusted yourself on the couch and put on an episode of Friends, hoping it would distract you from the worry. It usually worked. When you started to doze off, you got up to make yourself a cup of tea, a way to keep your body moving before sleep fully took over. Some nights, it was exhausting trying to stay awake. But you did it anyway. Because you wanted Matt to know that when he came home, there was someone to clean his bruises, to stitch his cuts, to help him out of the suit when his body was too sore to do it himself.

After two cups of chamomile tea, countless Candy Crush matches and several Friends episodes, you were startled by the sound of heavy footsteps coming from the upstairs area of the apartment. You let out a quiet sigh, relieved that at least he was back. You shifted your body into a sitting position, ready to examine his every movement and assess how bad the damage was tonight. 

You watched Matt come down the stairs in silence, his red suit reflecting the purple glow of the obnoxious billboard outside. You waited for the usual “I’m back, sweetheart” he always said to you, but tonight, there was nothing. Only the sound of his boots against the floor. You noticed that his head hung slightly low, shoulders tense, plump lips pressed into a firm line. Even with his helmet on, you could still see it, the tension in his face, the weight he carried.

Something was wrong.

He muttered a low “I’m back, you can go to sleep”, offering you a forced smile before crossing the living room and heading straight to the bathroom. He usually showered right after patrol, but tonight, your gut told you to follow him.

You slowly got up from the couch and made your way to the bathroom, bracing yourself for whatever you might have to deal with. You just hoped he wasn’t seriously injured and trying to play it off like it was nothing, because that wouldn’t be the first time.

Standing in the doorway, you quietly observed Matt in the dark bathroom. Only a faint neon light seeping through the small window. He stood at the sink, both arms braced against the counter, head hanging low. His breaths were deeper than usual, like he was trying to calm himself down. He was still in full gear, the red uniform clinging to his tired body. 

“Matt”, you said softly, careful not to startle him. “Is everything alright, honey?”

He took a slow, deep breath, exhaling through his mouth before answering.

"Yes, sweetie," he replied, offering you another half-smile. "I'm okay. I'm just…" he paused, gripping the sink harder. "The city was so loud tonight. So many people needed help, and I- I couldn’t get to everyone. I couldn’t-"

You sensed his anxiety and immediately stepped into the bathroom, placing a gentle hand on the exposed part of his face, in an attempt to ground him. You had seen this before. He was overwhelmed and overstimulated, both by his heightened senses and his emotions.

"Hey, how about we take that suit off?" you suggested, gently guiding his face toward yours. "You'll be more comfortable." Slowly, you lifted the helmet from his head, feeling the heat of his skin, his body still in panic mode.

His hair was a mess, and you smiled, hoping to lighten the mood. Leaning in, you pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, the faint scratch of his stubble against your lips.

"There we go," you whispered as you pulled away. "Much better, isn’t it?"

He closed his eyes and took a breath again, unconsciously relaxing under your touch.

You helped him out of his boots and unzipped the rest of the suit until he was left in just his black boxers. Tossing the uniform onto the bathroom floor, you noticed his breathing was still heavier than usual.

You took the opportunity and scanned his body, looking for any possible injuries. “Are you hurt?” you calmly asked him, worried if there was something you were not seeing.

"Not tonight," he replied, lifting his right hand to gently cup your face. You realized he didn’t want to talk, not right now. He just needed to feel you, feel your warmth and your skin, something real to ground himself.

You kissed the palm of his hand gently, trying to give him the physical comfort he needed right now. You took his other hand and placed it on your heart,  knowing he was probably already focusing on its rhythm anyways. He always told you he liked listening to your heartbeat, that the steady sound calmed him like nothing else.

“It’s okay, Matt. You’re here, you’re home” you murmured, hoping to help his body understand that whatever had happened out there was over now. His palm was warm against your chest, and you placed your hand over his. You watched as he closed his eyes again, trying to shut out the noise, both outside and inside his head.

"Is my heart beating fast or slow?" you asked, using the familiar tactic of simple questions to help pull him away from his anxiety.

“Slow”, he answered, with his usually velvety voice.

"Can you feel how warm my skin is?"

"Warm... and soft. As usual," he said, his large hand grazing your collarbone before trailing up to your neck. His sweet comment made you smile.

You took a small step closer, lifting your hand to trace the shape of his nose. With your index finger, you touched his forehead, then slowly ran it down the bridge of his nose until you reached the tip. You always did this when he couldn’t sleep, or when you just wanted him to feel relaxed. Now, you hoped the familiar gesture would help him relax enough to talk. As much as he seemed a little calmer, you still needed to know, what had happened tonight? What had left him so overwhelmed?

"Do you feel better?" you asked softly, still tracing his nose before slipping your arms around his neck.

"A little, yes. Thank you, sweetheart," he murmured, his hands settling gently on your waist.

"Did something happen tonight? You don’t have to go into details, but you know I can’t help but worry about you out there."

You recalled what he had said moments ago, how the city had been especially loud, with too many cries for help at once, and how he hadn’t been able to answer them all. You could already guess he was drowning in guilt, as usual, but you needed to make sure there wasn’t something more.

He directed his gaze somewhere close to your chin, taking a few moments before answering, trying to gather his thoughts into something that would make at least a little sense to you.

You placed a gentle hand on the nape of his neck, fingers threading through his soft hair, a silent reassurance that you were here, listening to whatever he had to say.

"The city was so loud tonight, (Y/n). It always is, but tonight... It was too much. Sirens, gunshots, screams, everywhere. Women screaming, children screaming, all at once. Every time I tried to focus on one direction, there was another cry for help pulling me somewhere else”

You felt his heart starting to race again, and you put one of your hands on his chest, trying to remind him that he didn’t need to continue.

"There was a woman getting beat up by her husband while her little boy watched, begging his father to stop," he continued, his voice heavy. Even as you noticed his hazel eyes glossing over with unshed tears, you knew he needed to let it all out. For once.

Tears began to slip down his face, and you reached up to wipe one away with your fingers. It broke your heart to see him like this.

"At the same time, there was a girl being dragged into an alley because... because some lowlife decided her bag and her body were his to take." His voice wavered, frustration and sorrow mixing in his expression as more tears fell.

You cried with him, heartbroken by all this weight he carried alone.

"How am I supposed to make a choice like that?" he asked, his voice cracking, though it felt more like he was questioning God than you. His face was soaked with tears.

"How am I supposed to choose who gets help and who doesn’t? Who lives and who dies? I’m just one man! I can’t decide that. I can’t."

"Matt," you interrupted softly, cupping his face between your hands. "Matt, listen to me." You wiped his tears away with your fingertips, though your own vision was blurred by your own.

"Yes, you’re just one man. A man that has the kindest, most selfless heart I have ever known. You risk your life for people you don’t even know, do you hear me?"

His body shook with silent sobs, his head hanging low as he finally let all of his guilt and sorrow spill out. It hurt to see him like this, but you knew it was necessary.

"Listen to me," you urged again, tilting his face up to meet yours. "You’re not out there to make impossible choices, you’re out there to do what you can. It is your purpose, and you already give more than your best. All these scars on your body? They’re proof of that, Matt."

This time, it was Matt who wiped your tears, his silent way of thanking you for saying what he so desperately needed to hear.

"I’m here every night stitching you up, disinfecting your wounds, icing your bruises. So if anyone can say that what you do is more than enough, it’s me, okay? Please don’t take this burden on alone, it's too much for anyone to carry."

Matt pulled you into the tightest hug, burying his face in your hair as if he could physically hold onto your words and make them real. You held him close, rubbing slow circles on his back until his breathing steadied and his tears finally slowed.

“It’s over now, okay? This night is over and you did the best you could.” You made sure to remind him, while smoothing his messy hair to the side. “I know, but.. even here, even now, I can still hear the city. It doesn’t stop.” His voice was low, exhausted.

You took one of his hands in yours, pressing a soft kiss to his bruised knuckles. "So what do you need from me, Matt?" you asked gently. "Tell me."

He was quiet for a moment, his free hand reaching up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. His touch lingered for a second longer than usual.

“Will you sing to me?” he questioned shyly, facing you with the most loving look on his eyes. The request surprised you, but more than anything, you felt honored that he trusted you enough to ask for this. 

"You know I love your voice," he added, while holding your chin. He was trying to make you feel less self-conscious, which he knew was how you felt every time he asked you to sing more around him.  

You let out a small, fond sigh, while taking him by the hand. "Oh, what I wouldn’t do for you, Murdock… Come here."

You led him to your shared bed, climbing in first and urging Matt to follow. Noticing the exhaustion on his face, you felt reassured that bringing him to bed had been the right choice. You hoped to soothe him enough for sleep to finally take over.

“Come here,” you called softly, patting the spot beside you. You sat upright, your back resting against the pillows at the head of the bed.

Without hesitation, he lay down next to you, instinctively resting his head against your chest.

He inhaled deeply, taking advantage of the position to drown himself in your scent. He rested his arms around your waist and back, feeling the silky touch of your summer pajama set. You always made sure to wear clothes that were gentle on his senses.

“You comfortable?” you asked, making sure the position was good for both of you. You could already feel the weight of his muscles relaxing against you.

He only answered with a groan, indicating that he was so comfortable he didn’t even want to speak. Words felt unnecessary, just being there, feeling your warmth and steady heartbeat, was enough.

“What song should I sing?”

“Anything. I just want to hear your voice.”

You searched your mind for a song that could show him everything you felt, but could rarely say it to him. A melody that could show him how your heart ached in your chest every time he stumbled through that door battered and burdened, or every time he blamed himself because he wasn’t fast enough to save someone who needed his help. You wanted him to know that if you could, you would shield him from it all, the same way he so desperately tried to shield this city. He was always the protector, always the one worrying, always the one putting himself between the world and its darkness. You wanted to do the same for him, to take even a fraction of his pain, to be his refuge the same way he was for you and for so many other people throughout Hell’s Kitchen.

You took a deep breath, steadying yourself. Your fingers absentmindedly ran through Matt’s hair, feeling the soft strands beneath your touch. You knew he was waiting, waiting for your voice, for the comfort he had asked for but rarely allowed himself to receive.

So you sang.

I remember tears streaming down your face When I said I'll never let you go When all those shadows almost killed your light

Your voice was soft, a whisper against the noise of the city outside.

I remember you said don’t leave me here alone But all that’s dead and gone and passed tonight

You lowered your head, pressing a lingering kiss to his forehead, a silent reassurance, a vow without words. His arms tightened ever so slightly around you, as if grounding himself in the warmth of your presence.

Then, softly, you continued into the chorus.

Just close your eyes, the sun is going down You’ll be alright, no one can hurt you now Come morning light You and I’ll be safe and sound

Your fingers traced soothing patterns along his back, feeling the slow rise and fall of his breath. His grip on you loosened just a little, the tension in his muscles melting away with every note that left your lips. You felt Matt’s lips press against your collarbone in a quiet, wordless thank you.

Don’t you dare look out your window Darling, everything’s on fire The war outside our door keeps raging on

You continued, raising your hand to caress the stubble on his face, tracing every line of his features. It wasn’t often that you got to admire him like this, without the bruises and blood demanding your attention. Just him, safe in your arms.

Your thumb brushed over his cheekbone, down to his jaw, committing every inch of him to memory. The way his eyelashes fluttered slightly at your touch, the way his lips parted just the slightest as he melted further into you.

For now, he wasn’t Daredevil. He wasn’t a hero burdened with impossible choices. He was just Matt, your Matt. And you would hold him for as long as he needed.

Hold on to this lullaby Even when the music’s gone Gone

The steady rhythm of your fingers through his hair guided him away from the chaos of the city.

Just close your eyes, the sun is going down You’ll be alright, no one can hurt you now

At this point you realized he was starting to drift off to sleep. You adjusted the blankets around the two of you, making sure his exposed back was covered. You felt the rise and fall of his chest begin to slow, the tension in his shoulders finally melting away beneath your touch. His arms remained around you, looser now, more trusting, like his body had finally surrendered to rest.

Your fingers found their way back to his hair, lazily brushing through the dark strands as your song faded into silence. Outside, the city murmured like it always did. Distant sirens, cars, honks, but in your shared little world, everything was still.

“You still with me?” you whispered, not expecting an answer.

No answer. Just his breath, calm and deep. He was finally asleep. You looked down at his peaceful features and smiled with a tenderness that welled up from the deepest parts of your chest.

“I’ve got you, Matt. Always.” you leaned down and pressed a kiss to the top of his head, like sealing a promise with your lips.

You then rested your head back against the pillows, your arms still wrapped around him. His warmth and his scent lingered in the air around you, grounding you just as you had grounded him. Outside, the familiar sounds of Hell’s Kitchen filtered through the windows. You hated it for all the ways it hurt him. You loved it for all the ways it had led him to you.

With his steady breath against your skin, the weight of him safe in your arms, you finally let yourself close your eyes.

For now, he was here. For now, he was safe. And that was enough.

.

Thanks for reading! Feedback and comments are always welcome! ❤️

[happy74827]

You Must Be Haunting Me

[Brian Moser x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: Even after a year, you’re still haunted by the Ice Truck Killer.

WC: 2643

Category: Angst, No Comfort {TW: Not Proof Read 😞}

I did another one!! Are you guys proud of me? 🥹

So, rewatching the season, I forgot how sassy he was so I wanted to really show off that aspect in this one. Then my patience was over it, so the ending is just kinda… bland. But it’s okay because it’s Brian (he seriously needs more attention FOR REAL).

Anyway, for those 14 Brian fans… this one’s for you 🫶

『••✎••』

The dark circles beneath your eyes. The way you can barely stand on your feet, your body so exhausted that you can hardly lift a finger to defend yourself. You’re like a walking corpse, and he's the one responsible for putting you in this state.

It started one year ago. One year ago, you moved to Miami and became the victim of a killer. It wasn't until his brother came along and put him six feet under that you began to heal and get back into the normal, everyday routine. But then he showed up.

It was one of those nights where you’d randomly get a jolt in your sleep. You sat up straight, the sheets pooling at your hips as you looked around the room. Your breathing was shallow, and sweat was beading on your brow. You felt a shiver run up your spine as you slowly laid back down.

"You sleep soundly."

His voice caused your heart to stop. You knew who it was, the same man who had terrorized you, who made your life a living hell. Slowly, you turned to your side, staring wide-eyed at the dark figure at the end of your bed. Your hands began to shake and tremble as you reached for the lamp on your nightstand.

"Oh, don't bother."

In an instant, with the sound of fingers snapping, the lamp's light went out. You could hear a chuckle coming from the intruder, and you were paralyzed, afraid to make a move.

I mean, it couldn’t be him, right? It was just some sick joke. He was dead. He couldn’t be here.

He couldn’t.

But, god, he looked the exact same. The curly dark hair, the pale skin. He was just a silhouette in the darkness of your room, and yet, you could tell that the grin he wore was the same grin that he had on the day you met him.

"You look like you’ve seen a ghost." He mused, moving closer towards you. His weight caused the bed to dip slightly, and you could feel the fear begin to take over your body. "Should I start saying boo?"

Your throat was dry, and you couldn’t speak; all you could do was stare at him, frozen in place. He lowered his head in amusement and chuckled, leaving his lips once more.

It was when his eyes weren’t on you that broke you out of your daze. You shot up from the bed, nearly tumbling over yourself as you ran to the dresser, grabbing the nearest thing you could find and throwing it at him. It was a vase, one that held a bouquet of flowers, that shattered against the wall, causing him to look up.

"…Was that supposed to scare me?" He asked, raising a brow as he tilted his head, an almost bored expression on his face. "You’ve got the aim of a blind man."

"Get out of my house!"

The sound of your own voice startled you. Anger wasn’t necessarily the emotion you normally felt, but now it was the only thing that was running through you. Anger and adrenaline.

He stood from the bed, taking a step closer to you, the broken glass crunching beneath his feet. You didn’t care; you took a step back, holding your hand out as if it would stop him from coming any closer.

"Get away from me, you psycho."

He laughed. He actually fucking laughed.

"Psycho?" He repeated, "That’s a new one."

"Stay back." You hissed, feeling the tears well up in your eyes.

He took another step.

"Don't touch me!"

Another. He was only inches away from you now, and the thought of him being so close made you want to vomit.

The annoyed sigh he let out when he noticed your hand trembling was enough to set you off. You didn’t think twice; the only thought in your mind was to get him out, and so you did.

When he was walking towards you, your mind remembered the small kitchen knife that you left on the counter. Quickly, you ran past him, dodging his hands as he reached out to grab you, and grabbing the knife, and in one quick motion, you turned and stabbed him.

"That’s not going to—"

It went right through his chest. He stared down at the knife, then up at you, with that all-knowing expression.

He sighed again, "…work."

What the fuck?

In the next moment, he vanished, and the knife fell to the ground, the clattering against the linoleum floor echoing through the house.

For a minute, you thought it was a dream. That is, until he appeared in the chair beside you, his arms crossed, his eyes boring holes into your face.

"You can’t hurt me." He said, his tone flat, his eyes narrowed, "I can’t either. Not physically, anyhow."

You stared at him. He stared at you.

"I can fuck you up, though." He continued, "In many ways. Mentally, emotionally… The possibilities are endless."

"What the hell is this?" You questioned, your brows furrowing, "Are you some kind of— of, what, demented Casper?"

His expression was unreadable, but then again, he always had that look on his face.

"Casper? Wow, seriously? You remind me why I don't watch movies." He groaned, shaking his head.

"You didn't answer my question."

"And you won't like my answer."

"Try me."

"You’ve lost it." He shrugged, "Completely off the hinges, you know? And that's saying something, considering who you’re talking to."

"I don't—"

"Have a mental disorder."

"What?"

"That's what it's called. When someone has delusions of grandeur, where they think someone is after them. Someone, of course, meaning me." He explained, a grin spreading across his lips. "But, no. It's all in your head. Just. Like. Me."

The words sank in, and you stared down at the floor, your mind processing everything he was telling you.

"No, I'm not crazy." You murmured, mostly to yourself, but loud enough for him to hear.

"You're not? Well, how else would you explain me being here?" He asked, cocking a brow, "I’m dead, remember? My dear brother made sure of that."

"I—"

"And you know damn well I’d never wear this out of the office. It's not exactly the most flattering."

It was then you noticed what he was wearing.

He had his lab coat on. His entire outfit was the same thing he wore the day he met you. You were with Debra to question him about Tucci’s recovery and, god, if he didn't make the biggest impression.

It was pretty hard not to like him when he was giving one of his patients, a little boy, a lollipop from his jar and making a joke.

You remember telling Deb, 'What a nice guy'.

Oh, the irony. The fucking irony.

"What a nice guy." You found yourself repeating before looking him up and down, your lips curling in disgust. "You were just fucking with me the whole time, weren't you?"

He shrugged, "What's it matter now? I'm dead."

"It matters to me."

"Would you like me to apologize? To beg for your forgiveness?" He asked, a mocking tone in his voice, "Would that make you feel better?"

You were silent.

"Wouldn’t do anything." He continued, "And it certainly wouldn't change a thing. But, hey! By all means, you go right ahead and play pretend. Maybe then, you'll sleep better at night."

You scoffed. He was such a piece of shit.

"How much are you gonna torture me, huh?" You asked, crossing your arms over your chest, "Torture me like you did, Debra? Like your brother? Are you just going to follow me around like a bad smell? Make my life a living hell, like you did theirs?"

"I didn't torture him." He stated, a hint of malice in his tone, "He's my brother."

"Like that means shit."

"He was just like me. A lot like me, in fact." He went on, his eyes flickering over to you. "I could see myself in him."

"Well, he killed you." You countered, "That doesn't really seem like brotherly love."

"He did what he had to." He shrugged, "That Harry… he was a real piece of work, wasn't he?"

You were quiet again.

"And Debra?"

"A pain in my ass. Always sticking her nose in places where it doesn't belong." He replied, shaking his head. "But, then again, that was her job, wasn't it?"

"You broke her. You tore her apart." You snapped, the memories of the past year filling your mind. "She really loved you. She really did."

"I know."

"You don't care."

"Not at all." He said, the faintest hint of a smirk appearing. "Not in the slightest."

"Fuck you."

He laughed, his laughter filling the room before it faded out, leaving the both of you in a heavy silence.

He had a different aura around him this time. It might be the aura of a dead man, a hallucination. But he still felt so… present. Even his mannerisms were the same—the way he moved his hands, the way he tilted his head. His eyes still had that glint of mischief. It was so real.

So. Fucking. Real.

"If your just in my head, why can’t I just kick you out?" You asked, finally breaking the silence, "Make you go away."

"Because, even after a year, I still affect you." He answered, his voice low. "Even though you try to ignore it and push the memories back, I’ll always be there. In the back of your mind."

"Why couldn’t you be my dead childhood dog or something? Why do you have to be some crazy serial killer that ruined my life?" You said, shaking your head.

"I'm not boring."

"Neither was my childhood dog."

"Rocky didn't have a single interesting thing about him. All he did was drool and lick himself." He countered, his lips pursing.

"How the hell do you know— oh, fuck this. Just go away." You groaned, rubbing your temples.

He didn't respond, and the room was quiet. For a second, you thought he actually listened. Then, you heard him hum.

"Hm. No."

"Jesus Christ."

"Now, that's really a name I haven't heard in a while."

This was how it became. For months, you would have these random conversations with him, and no matter how much you tried, he would never leave. Everywhere you went, he was there.

Work.

Shopping.

Even at the damn bar.

You had no idea what this was. You didn't know if this was a side effect of the trauma you went through. Whether it was your mind trying to cope or just the result of a lack of sleep. Whatever it was, it was draining the life out of you.

You felt like a shell. Your coworkers knew something was wrong. The way your eyes were dull and lifeless, the dark circles, the slump in your shoulders.

They were concerned—except Debra. She was too concerned about the case to pay attention to anyone else.

You weren't really sure what day it was. Or month. Time was going by, and you were slowly dying mentally, as he put it.

"Is this because I can't sleep?" You asked him one night, staring at the ceiling, your voice hoarse, "Because I can't go to sleep without seeing your face? Or is it because I don't have the energy to live?"

"I would say both."

You groaned, throwing an arm over your eyes, "What did I do to deserve this?"

"It's not what you did." He replied, his eyes locked on yours, "It's what I did."

"Yeah, well, thanks."

"Don't mention it."

The two of you sat there in silence before he cleared his throat.

"How are things with my favorite bloodhound?" He asked a curious tone in his voice. "Is he still sleeping with that cute blonde, or did he wise up and break it off?"

"Rita. Her name is Rita." You corrected him, shaking your head, "She’s his girlfriend, not his flavor of the week."

"Hm."

"And, for your information, they're fine. Great, actually."

"How disappointing." He scoffed, leaning back in his seat. He genuinely looked upset, which caused a snicker to leave your lips. "What's so funny?"

"You are." You replied, looking over at him, "You're so pathetic."

He blinked.

"You're a dead man. Dead. How can you be disappointed about his love life?"

"I'm his older brother." He stated, his jaw tightening, "I want what's best for him."

"Really? Then why aren't you in his brain, harassing him?" You questioned, a smile coming onto your face, "You know what? I bet he's sleeping great. He doesn't have to deal with this. Not like I do."

"I would love to give him a good old-fashioned night terror. It'd be easy, too. He's not exactly the most stable." He replied, his eyes narrowing slightly. "But his brain is too messy. He's always been that way."

"I guess he takes after his brother."

"He took after our father. The one thing I did was make him forget about it." He retorted, his tone harsh, "Notice how he never talks about the old man? Or the past? Now it’s only me. That's because of me. I took him from that shitty childhood. I gave him a better life. A better everything. I could’ve given him the world."

You were quiet.

"Instead, he killed me." He spat, the venom in his voice obvious. "Because of that stupid, half-witted sailor mouth."

You honestly had to give your brain props for this one. He was too realistic. He was too Brian.

"You know what?" You began, sitting up, "I really am feeling a lobotomy."

At that, he actually laughed. Now that… that was different from the chuckles and snickers, this was a full laugh, something you haven't heard since you met him. It was loud, it was obnoxious, and it was the only thing you could hear.

It was the last thing you heard before the most amazing thing happened.

You fell asleep.

In the morning, you woke up to a pounding on your door and an annoying ringing. Groaning, you pulled the pillow over your head, hoping the noises would disappear. Instead, they only got louder, and you had no choice but to get up.

"Coming, coming!" You shouted, shuffling out of the bedroom and towards the door, the banging and the ringing still going on.

When you opened the door, you saw Debra.

"Good. You're up." She greeted, her expression annoyed. "Where were you last night?"

"Sleeping. What are you, my mom?"

"I called you. I even sent someone by your house. You weren't here." She stated, a slight bite in her voice, "And I'm not your mom, but if I were, I'd spank you."

"For what?"

"We have a meeting in five minutes." She said, checking her watch, "Get dressed. I'm waiting."

"Shit."

In record time, you threw on some jeans and a shirt, and within the next three minutes, you were out the door and in the car with Debra.

But as she pulled out of the driveway, he appeared directly in front of her.

"Hey, watch—"

But he only winked at you before disappearing. And at the time, you found it nothing but him being a prick. But, later on, you would realize.

This was the last time you would ever see him.

A month went by. And another. And another.

Then, a year.

The visions of the past still came. The thoughts of him were still there. The memories were still fresh. And sometimes, if you listened closely, you could still hear that laugh.

But you weren’t afraid anymore. You had no reason to be. And so, you moved on. You continued living because that's what he would've hated. And that made you smile.

Because, now, it wasn't him haunting you.

It was you haunting him.

[mantafail]

★彡 𝘎𝘰𝘩𝘪𝘯 𝘹 𝘔𝘢𝘭𝘦!𝘗𝘳𝘦𝘺𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 彡★

!!!THIS IS A ONESHOT!!!

AUTHOR NOTES:

Alright so... Beastars Season 3 is coming! I was rewatching the show and, yknow, kinda remembered the massive crush I have for Gohin. There should be more fanfics with him PLEAAAASEE

This oneshot does not contain any NSFW content. The closest you'll get to that is a bit of making out and roaming hands, but not much else.

I tried to make this oneshot work with any prey species (avian, mammal, etc.), so I decided to write it in second person rather than first. Please enjoy!

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The moon shone high above the sky of the city as the black market sellers were getting ready to… well, sell. The strong scent of fresh, raw meat of all kinds started to waft through the air as the market came to life.

For most animals who worked at the black market, it meant another long night of dealing with stupid and young carnivores. That also applied to Gohin, but… in a different way.

“Alright… time for work.”

The burly panda thought as he walked towards his office. He eyed all the strangers around him as he strolled, trying to spot anyone that had lost control and let their instincts take over.

Unluckily for Gohin, though… his boyfriend was tagging along. Said boyfriend was just someone he had met a while ago, saved his life after almost getting devoured by carnivores, and they just… clicked.

Why was he coming with Gohin, though? Well, the panda wasn't going to leave his “little guy” alone and wander through the dangers of the night.

“... this place reaks…”

The small prey complained, half of their face covered by a face mask Gohin had gifted to them to cover the smell ever so slightly… not the meat's smell. His smell. If a carnivore without control smelt the scent of an alive prey… that wouldn't be good.

“Stop complaining. We're almost there.”

The panda gruffly replied back quietly as they finally turned towards a dark alleyway. Said alleyway leads directly to the tall building where Gohin works.

“I'm sorry if this is a bother, Gohin.” The prey apologized. “I don't mean to annoy-”

“Save your breath, cute stuff. I was the one who insisted for you to come along, anyway.” 

Gohin didn't let his boyfriend finish his sentence.

“... alright, then.”

-------------------------------------------------------------

After settling in the office, the couple started to do their own work. Gohin was focused on his laptop as he checked what patients he had to deal with today, smoking a cigar as usual, while his boyfriend sat on the couch and looked around the apartment, finding the faint scent of incense in the air quite comforting.

It was clear that this place brought back some… memories in the herbivore’s mind. The black market. Gohin knew that it wasn't ideal, but still. It was much better than leaving him alone.

“How… How long do we have to stay here again?”

The herbivore asked, his voice slightly more quiet than usual. He really didn't seem comfortable here, but… Gohin's presence helped a bit, at least.

“Just until I finish this. I'll drop you back home before any of my patients arrive.”

Gohin spoke without even turning to look at you, his eyes glued to the laptop in front of him. That was until he heard you sigh shakily…

“... hey, hun, you okay?”

He asked with genuine concern, standing up from his office chair and sitting next to his boyfriend, wrapping an arm around him.

“Yes, I'm alright… I just don't like the black market…”

“Hmph… I know. We'll be out of here before you know it, alright, little guy?”

Gohin was surprisingly good at comforting… especially after taking in account how he acts with some of his patients.

“Okay… just… can you stay next to me for a moment, please?”

The prey begged, looking up at the panda with those adorable, wide eyes of his. Gohin couldn't say no to that cute face.

“Alright, alright… but I still need to work. Make this quick, will ya?”

Gohin sighed, the smoke from the cigar finally leaving through his nostrils before he picked his boyfriend up and placed him on top of his lap.

This sudden and… slightly intimate position caused an adorable reaction on the prey, a pink blush covering his fluffy cheeks.

“... I sometimes forget how warm you are, big guy…”

The prey chuckled bashfully as he looked up at the massive panda. This position always got him a bit turned on, but he's going to hold back on those urges for now. At least until they get home…

“Can it, cute stuff. Just smother your face on my chest as always.”

Gohin smirked mischievously and, before the prey could even reply, the panda pushed his boyfriend's head right into his furry, white chest. His massive arms enveloped the smaller animal in a tight and warm hug.

“Mmph!”

That adorable little surprised noise that the herbivore made always sent chills down Gohin's spine. Seeing him so flustered and cute like this made him feel good.

“There ya go, honey… Nice and warm…”

Gohin said in a teasing tone, knowing the effect he was having on the smaller animal.

After a little while of those comfortable cuddles, the prey finally raised his head back up, their fur (feathers, scales, whatever they had) messy after nuzzling so much.

“Feeling any better?”

Gohin asked, that smirk never leaving his lips as he continued to take long and deep breaths of his cigar.

“Y-Yes… but-”

“Ohhh no, here's the ‘but’.” Gohin spoke gruffly, his arms not leaving his boyfriend's body just yet. “What else do you want out of me, hm?”

“A kiss would be nice…”

The herbivore spoke nervously, his blush only growing by the second. It was truly endearing to see him like this.

“Heh, such a needy little critter…”

Gohin chuckled before putting his now almost gone cigar away, smoke still coming out of his mouth after he did so.

Before his boyfriend could even retort, Gohin pulled him into a deep and passionate kiss. He knew the little guy liked it rough, but he couldn't go too rough without the risk of hurting him… so there had to be a balance.

Still, the kiss was incredibly enjoyable for the both of them. After just mere seconds of kissing, said kiss went from just regular and passionate to outright making out.

Gohin's tongue crept it's way into the smaller animal's mouth as the kiss continued, both of them let their hands roam over the other's body.

During the passionate haze they found themselves in, Gohin enjoyed all the adorable little reactions and sounds he got out of his boyfriend. He really loved this little guy…

[oofmybad]

Hellooo I don't really know how recommending fics works cuz I've never done it soo I hope this is the right place😝

Anyway I saw this modern family clip where Gloria was asking her husband if he wanted to join her in the shower and he said something like "you know there's a 🔫 in the closet, if I ever say no to that question I want you to use it on me" and then like yeah Billie x reader shower can be fluffy or smutty IDC

and totally fine if you don't wanna do this xx

I want you to use it on me

thank you for the request, my love. i adore modern family so this was fun! i’m even rewatching it rn - on season 6 again :P

warnings: billiexfem!reader, joking discussion of guns (very mild), suggestive fluff

a/n: for the sake of this story, billie is the type to own a gun.

~~~~~~~~

today has been a long day, you’ve been at work for most of it. billie too.

you leave your car parked in the drive, locking it behond you with the key. as you approach the front door, it swings open before you even have a chance to unlock it. your beautiful girlfriend is stood there, arms wide, ready to welcome you home.

“hi, princess!” billie exclaims, a wide grin on her face. you trudge over to billie, bags in hand, and slightly collapse into her hold.

“hi, baby” you let out with a sigh. clearly exhaused from the day, billie rushes to comfort you.

“you tired? hmm?” she questions. you give her a simple nod against her chest before pulling back to put your things down.

you place your handbag down on the coffee table and kick your mary jane heels off with it. hooking your keys on the rack, you say to billie, “i’m so stressed out, i need this case to be over already.”

“aw, my love. is there anything i can do to help you?”

a smile creeps on your lips, the best kind of stress reliever coming to mind. but you play coy, shaking your head - the smile never leaving your face.

billie raises an eyebrow at you before blowing it off and stepping away from you - giving you space to settle down.

you shut the door behind you and walk towards the stairs, beginning to rid yourself of the tight, formal clothes that are now overwhelming your body.

“bil?!” you call out to her, not bothering to look behind you.

“hmm?”

“i’m gonna have a shower” you say as you pull your oxford shirt down your arms, leaving your torso in only a bra, “care to join?”

billie quickly walks up behind your body, her hand wrapping around your waist - creeping up to your chest - and says, “y/n, there’s a gun in the safe upstairs. if i ever say no to that question i want you to use it on me.”

you giggle, your ribs shaking against her hand. “deal” you say, before climbing the stairs as you pull billie’s hand with you. she’s not far behind - eager to help you relieve the stress of the day.

[aviawrites]

when we were teenagers (challengers)

pairings/relationships: tashi duncan x sister!reader, patrick zweig x fem!reader, art donaldson x fem!reader

summary: Tashi Duncan’s younger sister, Ava Duncan, never gets a chance to be seen past her sister’s shadow. When Ava gets injured and Tashi starts gaining fame, the two become more and more at odds with each other. Tashi juggles Art and Patrick while Ava struggles to keep up. When over a decade passes and a peace isn’t reached, either the Donaldsons or Zweigs, either Tashi or Ava, has to come out on top. (7.2k)

a/n: you know the movie was good when you have to rewatch so you have all the info for the fic🥴 with that being said, the dates and stuff may be a little off but i did my best with what wikipedia had to offer. regardless, im a patrick zweig stan 4L. anyway, as always, ur interaction is greatly appreciated, ily<3

warnings: description of injury, allusions to sex/almost a smut scene, swearing

in this story, yn is: Ava Duncan

March 16, 2006 //📍home, 9:35pm

The goofy grin on the brunette’s face and the blond’s childish giggle replays over and over in your head. Your mother’s muffled snores mix with Art’s laughs as a smile grows on your face, your eyes closed. 

You’ve found yourself in this position too many times, imagining what could’ve been if the cute guys were eyeing you rather than your sister. But you’ve experienced it enough times to not even be hurt by it anymore. No guys approach you at volleyball events, especially not hot ones. So if anything, you find some comfort in lying upside down on the corduroy couch making up scenarios in your head. 

The click of the front door forces your eyes open, sitting upright and perking up like a dog as your sister tip toes through the door.  

“So…” You rest your chin on your fist, “Which one was it?”

“Shh,” Tashi smiles, pointing to your mom’s closed door. “Which one was what?”

“Come on,” You continue as she stands in front of you, “Which one did you…Y’know.”

“Oh my- Neither of them, Ava.”

“What!?”

“Shh!”

You lower your tone, “Seriously? You were alone with them both and didn’t make a move?”

“It wasn’t like that.” She laughs, “They’re like…I dunno, they’re weird.”

You scrunch your face up, “What, are they gay?”

She pauses, cocking her head.

“They’re actually gay?”

“No, no they’re not.” She giggles, “I just didn’t do anything with them. I mean we kissed but that’s it.” 

“Did you kiss the blond?” You interrogate, “I really like the blond…”

“His name is Art and I kissed them both.” She smirks.

You roll your eyes, “Whatever.”

Tashi laughs at you, plopping next to you on the couch and resting her legs across yours.

“They did ask for my number again.”

“What’d you tell them?” You stroke her leg.

“I said whoever wins the match tomorrow gets it.”

“God, I wish.” You sigh, throwing your head back. “I’d kill to see Art just one more time…”

———

May 15th, 2006 //📍home, 6:00pm

You wince as your mom tightens the brace, covering your face in frustration.

“It’s okay, baby.” She kisses your head, “You tell me if you need anything, okay?”

You nod as she presses one more kiss onto your hair before walking out, leaving you alone with your thoughts. 

Almost every athlete you know has been injured before, half of the girls on your team are covered in braces and tape all season. A torn ACL seems more like a right of passage than a serious and life changing injury. But when you heard the pop and felt the ligament rip, it was almost immediate; The realization that you very well may never play again. You’re not sure if yours was worse than others or if you’re just weaker, but the trauma of the blistering pain has turned you away from getting back on the court for the last month. 

You already can tell who’s on the other side of the door from the lack of a knock. You internally sigh, wanting to be left alone, as Tashi sits at the foot of your bed. 

“Hey, I was thinking we could go to the courts today. I could practice with you.” 

“Tashi…”

“I know you haven’t been wanting to go but since you just hit a month I was thinking, you know, maybe you’d want to start working again.”

You shake your head, “Tashi, I don’t think I’m ready.”

“When will you be?” She asks, her voice stern.

You stare at her, “I don’t know, Tashi. Why?”

“I’m just saying Ava, it’s not good to stop for this long. Some people never get back out there and you have to at least try.”

“I am trying.” You raise your voice, “My insides tore apart. Sorry if I’m not eager to put pressure on myself again.”

“There’s no pressure I’m just asking you to get up and at least walk on a court again.”

“What if I don’t want to?”

“Why the fuck not?” 

“Because I’m fucking scared, Tashi!” You shout, tears falling from your eyes. “I’m fucking scared of it happening again! I am not ready!”

She stares at you, a look that you can only describe as disgust on her face.

“…You don’t even want to drive out there just to see-“

“Get out.” You cover your eyes, a headache creeping up on you.

“Ava, I’m not going to let you waste away in here-“

“Get out of my room or I’m calling mom.” You stare back at her, “Go.” 

She stands, giving you one last look of disapproval before leaving, slighting slamming your door behind her.

———

September 18th, 2006 //📍Stanford Tennis Courts, 5:00pm

“Passing…Down the line…Cross…”

Tashi’s grunts echo throughout the court as you throw shots at her, a pile of green tennis balls forming behind you. It took a few weeks but she got you back on the court, just not the volleyball courts. You’ve watched Tashi’s practices long enough to know the game, so when you reluctantly offered to help her train, she jumped at the opportunity.

You zone out, robotically tossing the balls as Tashi dashes across the court. You silently hope for a specific someone show up. Patrick Zweig had your sister in his phone and occasionally in his bed, but Art Donaldson was a free man. The only Duncan in his phone was Ava, an achievement that you pride yourself on even weeks later. 

Sure, the two of you aren’t a thing, not the way Tashi and Patrick are. But you’re happy to be anything with Art, so the talking stage that you seem to be stuck in doesn’t bother you at all. You can only pray that it’ll blossom into something. Something meaning you being Ava Donaldson in the near future.

As if you summoned him, a very familiar blond boy opens the wire door, locking eyes with you. Your heart skips a beat when he waves at you, your hand immediately dropping the ball and waving back.

Your sister turns around to see Art, a smile growing on her face as she walks over to him. She wraps her arms around him, pulling him in for a hug as you watch. They barely pull away before Tashi begins chatting, her face too close to his for your liking. 

Across the court, they’re too far for you to hear their conversation. But judging from Art’s hand draped over her waist and her arm resting on his shoulder, you see enough to be angry. You can only look down, waiting for the conversation, along with your humiliation, to end. 

After an abundance of giggles, Art turns and walks away, giving you another wave. 

“I’ll see you.” He smiles.

You purse your lips, terribly embarrassed as you nod, “Yeah. Good seeing you, Art.”

The door shuts and with it, your smile drops. Tashi gets back into position like nothing happened, waiting with her racquet. Playing along, you throw her the ball. Only, you don’t call the drill. You throw with a little more force and much more unpredictability as the anger in you rises. 

“Ava…” Tashi calls, frantically chasing the ball. 

It’s only when the ball flies past her head, barely missing her, that she stops.

“Ava, what the fuck!?”

She walks toward you, meeting you at the net.

She shrugs, “What’s up, what’s going on?”

“Are you serious?”

She only looks at you, confused.

“Tashi, come on. You were literally all over him.”

“Wh- Art?” She deciphers, “Oh, Ava my bad I didn’t mean- I really didn’t mean to.”

“Yeah, sure you didn’t.”

“Seriously, I didn’t. He’s my friend I was just saying hey.”

“Saying hey with your arms around each other? That’s bullshit, just say you still like him.” You look down, mumbling. “It’s fine, it’s just annoying that you go after every guy I like knowing they’ll choose you.”

“Hey…” Tashi softens her tone, stepping over the net and nearing you. “Ava.”

“What?” You look at the ground.

“I didn’t mean it like that…” She insists, “I’m just stressed with school and stuff, he’s the only one who gets it.”

“Right.” You roll your eyes, not in the mood for ‘I’m stressed,’ to be the excuse for going after your guy. “It’s not like I go to school too or anything.”

“No, I know you do. It’s just…Stanford’s different, you know?”

“Whatever.”

“Ava,” She lifts your chin to look at her, “I’m sorry, okay?”

The two of you ogle at each other as she waits for an answer. She always does this, almost forces you into accepting her apology which you do not.

“We good?” She asks.

“…Yeah, sure.” You shrug, pulling away from her, “It’s whatever.”

Tashi just looks at you once more, seemingly satisfied as she steps back over the net. She gets back into position as you pick up another ball, a look still on your face.

“Down the line.”

———

December 21st, 2006 //📍Stanford Dining Hall, 12:00pm

“How many?” The employee asks.

“Umm, can I have three?” You lean on the counter, “Or four, actually.”

She reaches under the counter before handing you four mayo packets.

“Thanks.”

You start the walk back toward the table, Patrick having picked the one in the far back. He clearly hasn’t returned from the bathroom as you see Art and Tashi still sitting alone. As you near them, you catch a glimpse of their conversation.

“Don’t you think you deserve it?” Art asks, his eyes so focused on your sister that he doesn’t see you walking up. “I mean, who wouldn’t be in love with you?”

Tashi doesn’t respond, only angrily stands and walks away, nearly knocking you over. She passes you, smoke practically coming out of her ears. You watch her go before sitting where she was, handing Art the packets.

“Thanks.” He smiles, “Patrick still in there?”

“I guess so.” You laugh, insecurity lacing your voice as you simultaneously try to decode the conversation they were having.

“I’m so not surprised.” He takes the bun off of his burger and tears open the white packet with his teeth.

You watch him, hesitant to speak. Though, your words spill out before you can stop them.

“Do you ever wish Patrick let you win the match?” You ask.

Art looks up at you, mid squeeze. He cracks an unsure smile.

“What kind of question is that?” He laughs.

“I don’t know,” You do the same, tragically self conscious. “Maybe you wonder what it’d be like to date my sister or something. I don’t know, it’s stupid.” You look down, fiddling with your fingers.

Art pauses, putting his burger down and placing his hands on yours.

“Hey,” He grabs your attention, “I’m here with you today. 

You smile, “No, I know. It’s just…She’s like better than me in every way so I wouldn’t blame you.” You chuckle.

“What? I don’t think so, I think you’re great.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t get in to Stanford. Nor do I win all of the tennis tournament or-“

“Ava,” Art stops you, shaking your head. “You’re just as good as Tashi.”

Your eyes tread on each other as you try your hardest to believe him. But you do realize that this is the exact same way he looked at Tashi on the courts. 

The two of you are snapped out of it as Patrick returns, taking his seat next to Art.

“Sorry, they had like no toilet paper.”

“Oh good, thanks for letting us all know you took a shit, bud.” 

“Whatever. Ava doesn’t give a shit, right?”

“No,” You laugh, “You’re all good, Pat.”

———

📍Tashi’s dorm, 2:00pm

“So if he’s seeing other girls I won’t even fucking know now.” Tashi vents, stretching for her match.

You scroll on your phone, sitting at her desk. “It sounds like he was just trying to be nice, Tash. He was trying to help you out-“

“No, he’s not nice. Nothing about them is nice, Ava. They’re fucking weirdos, both of them. Art just hides behind this persona that he’s so caring and team Duncan when really he wants the same thing from me as Patrick.”

‘He wants the same thing from me.’

You sigh, tired of hearing the same things and watching her run back to them minutes later.

“Then stop complaining and fucking leave him already.” 

Tashi stops in her lunge, “What?”

“You keep complaining about them.” You grunt, “If you really didn’t want the attention you’d just drop them both.”

“If I didn’t want the attention?”

“Yes.” 

“The fuck does that mean?”

“Exactly what I said.” You say, irritated.

“Ava…” She stands up, looking down at you. You continue scrolling until your phone is snatched from you. “Hey.”

“What the-“

“Do you have something to say to me?”

“Give me my phone back.” You stand up, reaching for it.

“No, say what you mean.”

“Really?” You grab for your phone once more but she pulls it away from you like a child, “Fuck - Okay, Tashi, all you talk about is how hard your life is. How hard training is for a tournament that you know you're going to win. How hard it is dating a famous and touring athlete. How hard it is being friends with the nicest guy who only wants to help you. How fucking hard it is to have two guys fighting over you. How hard it is to go to an ivy league. How hard it is to live the fucking dream. How about you actually do something about it instead of rubbing it in our faces that you're above us and can play with two guys at once because you're so fucking amazing?"

The two of you stand nose to nose, a stance Tashi used to always initiate in order to intimidate you.

“How long have you felt this way?” She asks, her breath shaking.

“Ever since you became the Tashi Duncan and I was left in the dust. Now give me my phone.”

“Are you fucking serious, Ava? You think I asked for this?”

“Asked for what? A great life where you succeed in fucking everything? No, Tashi, you didn't have to ask for it. We worked so fucking hard and only you survived it. I succumbed to my fate, I quit my dream, I went to a shitty college, had shitty friends, watched shitty games, and watched the boys I liked fight for my sister. But no; Please, continue bitching about your hard situation." 

You snatch your phone from her hands, walking toward the door. "Good luck at your fucking match."

———

2:45pm

You barely look up as you exit the library, occupied with connecting your earbuds to your phone. It’s only when you see a familiar black head of hair sitting in the common area that you stop. 

“Patrick?”

He looks back, taking his feet off of the Stanford branded coffee table.

“Oh, hey Ava.” He makes space for you to sit beside him on the small loveseat. “How’s it goin’?”

“Good, um…” You put your stuff on the floor and sit next to him, “Why aren’t you at the tournament?”

“I could ask you the same thing.” He smiles that same crooked smile from the night you met him.

You curl your legs up, leaving your arm on the back of the seat. “Did y’all fight too?”

Patrick leans back, looking over at you. “Yeah. Yeah, we did.” He laughs.

“What was yours about?” You pry, smiling.

“Uh,” He rubs his eye, “Just…not letting her control me. I’m my own boss kind of shit.”

“Seriously?”

“…Yeah, why?”

“That’s what our fight was about too!” You burst into giggles, “Well, not her controlling me but her controlling you. And Art, him too.”

“Shit, Art too?”

“Yeah, I mean, especially Art. You’re the only one who stands up to her bullshit.”

“Oh yeah?” He asks, “I don’t know, you seem to put up a good fight.”

“Yeah, but I’m her sister. It’s takes a brave man to break free of Tashi Duncan.”

“Oh god, did I break free?”

“You definitely broke free.” The two of you laugh.

“No but I see what you’re saying, she definitely had me whipped.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Like I remember one time,” He turns toward you, getting comfy, “The first time her and I, um…”

“Oh, Jesus.” You cover your face.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” He laughs, “But the first time we did, I remember she said she’d leave me if I told anyone. And I was head over heels, so of course I didn’t want to tell, right?”

“Right.”

“But Art’s my guy, y’know? So instead of being straight up and jeopardizing Tashi’s love, we made this stupid ass signal.” He tells in between laughs, “The way that Art serves - Like, you know how he puts the ball at the neck of his racquet?”

“Yeah, yeah.” You listen intently.

“Well, if I served that way, that meant yes, we did sleep together, And if I served my way, it meant we didn’t.”

“…And?”

“Well, I put that motherfucker right in the middle.”

“Oh my-“

You and Patrick erupt into laughs, covering your mouths as the librarian eyes the two of you. Your stomach starts to ache, not being able to remember the last time you had this kind of belly laugh.

“Well, cheers to breaking free of her.” You put your fist up.

“Oh hell yeah, cheers to that.” He bumps it.

———

3:05pm

The crowd outside thins out as you and Patrick head down the back halls and toward the parking lot. In true honor of breaking free, the two of you decided to not say goodbye. Instead, you’d go home without saying a word to your sister. 

You’re a few doors down from the exit when Patrick stops in his tracks, looking into the nurses office.

“Tashi…” He walks in. 

You enter the doorway, peeking in behind him. Inside, you see Tashi sitting on the table, Art by her side.

“No, out.” Your sister points.

“I’m sorry-“

“Get out!”

“Tashi, listen to me-“

“No, get out!”

“Please-“

“Patrick, get the fuck out!” Art shouts, standing.

Patrick stays for a moment, taken aback as he looks from Tashi to Art. If he has the same vision as you, it’s clear that it’s them against him. It’s no longer Patrick and Tashi, but Art and Tashi. 

He looks back at you before obeying, walking down the hallway. 

Now alone, you come into full view, nearing your sister.

“Tash, what happened-“

“You too.”

You stop, tilting your head. “What?”

“I don’t want you here, leave.”

“Wh- Are you serious?”

“Ava, I think you should just go.” Art says lowly, wary to step in between you too.

You ignore him, “Tashi, I’m your sister.”

You get no answer, she only looks forward. You look at Art as he stands over her like some bodyguard. 

Just as Patrick did, you back away, realizing what this is. You frantically look between the two as you wait for Tashi to change her mind, to see that regardless of what fight you had you’re still sisters. Though, it’s clear that doesn’t mean anything to her, it’s been clear for a while now. 

Now, it’s only Art and Tashi.

———

10:03pm

“Coming in from Stanford; Student and highly lauded tennis player, Tashi Duncan, took a hard hit at her match against Pepperdine this afternoon. Sources say a hard fracture to the knee has Tashi in the care of medical professionals. It is unknown if she’ll ever be able to play again.” 

The blinding fluorescent lights of the cheap fast food place burn your eyes as you and Patrick look up at the TV. 

You bury your head in your hands, groaning.

“Fuck.” 

“She probably thinks she’ll never be able to play again.”

“Please, please don’t say that, Patrick. I’ll feel so guilty.”

“Ava, there’s nothing we could’ve done.”

“We could’ve at least showed up.” You rub a hand over your head.

“Hey,” He forces you to look at him, “None of this is our fault, okay? Injured or not, she still treated us like shit. Art only gets to stay by her side because he’s whipped.”

“I just…” You sigh, “I just wish I had been there.”

The two of you stand up, leaving the restaurant. Outside, a huge Adidas billboard with your sister’s face on it dominates the sky.

The two of you get into Patrick’s car, him cranking it up and turning down the radio.

“Let’s talk about something else.”

“Okay.” He nods, looking at you.

“Like…” You think, “Your tour.”

“Oh, God.”

You laugh, “When are you set to go back?”

“Uh, next week I’m pretty sure. But if I’m being honest, I don’t even want to go. I’ve been getting my ass kicked out there.”

“Patrick, Tashi would lose it if she heard you say that.”

He leans in, resting his arms on the center console as he examines your face. “Let’s not talk about Tashi…” 

“Okay,” You hold the intense eye contact that he began, “What do you want to talk about?”

His nose is almost touching yours as you unconsciously near him, eyes flickering from his eyes to his lips.

“Let’s talk about you.” He grins, rubbing your waist.

“What do you want to know?”

“Tell me what you like.” He says, lowering his lips to your neck and softly pressing.

“I, um,” You tilt, holding the back of his head as he gets sloppier, “I loved volleyball. My team was out of California but we travelled for tournaments. We ranked…fuck…we ranked second in the country-“

Patrick cuts you off, his lips ravaging yours as he runs his hands over you. You can’t stop yourself from leaning into him, crawling over to sit on his lap. Both of your hands get more and more heavy as he pulls your shirt over your head, tossing it in the backseat.

“Fuck,” You say in between kisses, “Fuck, wait.”

“What?” He looks up at you, “What, is something wrong?”

“Is this wrong to do?” You ask, out of breath. “Should we stop? What about Tashi and Art?”

“They yelled at us to leave when we tried to help.” He reminds you, “Why should we stop when they treated us like that?”

You look at him, convincing yourself that you’re considering it when all you want to feel is your mouth on his.

And you do, pushing the thoughts of Tashi and Art far from your mind.

———

February 15th, 2011 // 📍Zweig condo, 9:30am

5 years later

At one point in your life, it would take you multiple seconds to figure out how to say the dollar amount that you and your husband had in your bank account. Now, as the number almost falls short of five figures, you feel ashamed just looking at it. 

You switch tabs on the laptop, the light from the ceiling to floor window behind it hurting your eyes. Scrolling through tournament options, the distances only get further and the prize money higher. Years ago, you and Patrick wouldn’t even consider the amount, as Patrick just wanted to play tennis; And that still holds true, only you’ve been stuck in your ways for so long that he’s forgotten how to play to win. 

Nails scratch the hardwood behind you as your golden doodle, Bear, comes barreling down the hall. Right behind him is your husband, chasing the dog around the living room.

“I’m gonna getcha, I’m gonna getcha!” He says, the dog running desperately from him. 

You chuckle, “Good morning.”

You hear Patrick give Bear a smooch before walking over to you, wrapping his arms around your neck.

“Good morning, baby.” He kisses your neck, looking at the screen. “Found anything good?”

“Not really,” You groan, frustrated. “I don’t know when these matches got so fucking far.”

“It’s okay,” He strokes your head, “I’m sure there’s one we can make it to.”

You continue scrolling, the qualifier maximum getting smaller and smaller.

“What about this one?” He points.

“Atlanta? Patrick, that’s on the other side of the country.”

“I know, I know. But we can make the trip, no? I hear some of our friends may be there.”

You turn your head, furrowing your brows at him. A sly smile plasters over his face, one that makes you realize all too quickly.

“They’re going to be there?” 

He nods.

“God, why would you want to be anywhere near them?” 

“We probably won’t even see them, baby. But if they’re there we’ll have a big crowd.” 

You think on it, the thought of seeing Tashi making your stomach turn in knots.

“…And look at that winner’s reward money.” He says convincingly.

A sigh escapes you before clicking submit, Patrick’s entry automatically being sent.

“Mm,” He kisses your wedding ring finger, “Thank you, baby.”

“Yeah, yeah.” You jokingly roll your eyes, pecking him on the cheek.

——

February 24th, 2011 //📍Atlanta, 7:40pm

Nausea consumes you as Patrick’s smell fills your senses. The aroma of the city is one thing, the aroma of your husband another, but the scent of your sister’s old perfume radiates off of him like a cancer.

You watch as he sets his coat down, coming behind the couch to kiss you. 

“Did you-“ You pull your face away, not able to let him touch you, “Did you see anyone we know?”

Patrick is taken aback, looking at you with a confused smile.

“No…Why?”

His eyes bore into yours as you search for any answer than the one you’re imagining. Though, as he hands you the chinese takeout bag and takes a seat next to you, you find yourself voiding the conclusion entirely; Your mind not willing to believe the man you love would be meeting her. 

He wraps his arms around you, watching the TV. As the smell seems to corrupt every sense you have, a tear sneaks into your cheek, the possibility still piercing your gut. Even so, you wrap your arms back around him.

As of this moment, the comfort of hiding in his arms trumps the possibilities of the truth.

——

June 3rd, 2013 // 📍Zweig Condo, 3:00pm

2 Years Later

‘Hey, I know it’s been a while. But if you’re willing, I’d love to come out and see you and the baby. - A ♡’

The ‘Read’ under your message seems to taunt you the longer you stare. Your phone screen is interrupted by a call, ‘Mom,’ at the top of the screen. You answer.

A small gasp escapes you as you’re immediately met with the smallest human you’ve ever seen. You’d know she was Tashi’s in a sea of babies. You wave your husband over, eyes staying on the baby.

“Oh my goodness.” You whisper, “Hi, baby.”

Her eyes stay closed, her hands in small fists.

“Oh, Ava, she’s so beautiful.” Your mom lowly says down the phone.

“Is…” You wipe away a stray tear, “Is Tashi okay?”

The camera flips from the baby to your mother.

“You know you could always ask her yourself, honey.”

“No, I know. But- Just tell them we said congratulations. She’s precious.”

Your mom lets out a sigh as she looks from you to behind the camera.

“Mom, who is that?” You hear your sister’s voice in the background. 

Your hands turn clammy, your heart beating faster and faster as she begins to turn the phone to Tashi.

“Um, Mom we gotta go, we’re breaking up. I love you-“

“Wait, Ava-“

“Love you, mom.” You spit out, hanging up and turning your phone face down.

You stare out for a minute, shocked at your body’s response to your sister’s voice. Sobs escape your mouth before you can stop them. You shove your face in your hands.

“Oh, baby.” Patrick holds you, rubbing your back.

“It’s been too long.” You cry, “She fucking hates me.”

“You don’t know that.” He reassures you, “She may come around. You did good.”

———

May 1st, 2019 // 📍New Rochelle, 10:00am

6 Years later

Making it to New York from home took up the rest of Patrick’s savings. The house that you downsized to is completely funded by you and your remote sales salary. Patrick continues to fight a losing battle with tennis, barely able to pay for food for himself every week. Straining your marriage was the last consequence of his money struggles. Though, it has the biggest impact on your day to day. Nonetheless, you remain by his side. In all honesty, you’re not completely sure how to continue anywhere else. 

“I’m going to see Art today.” Patrick tells you, downing a handful of trail mix.

“Art?” You ask, holding Bear’s paws on your

thighs, “Why would you do that? It’s been years.”

“I think it’s been long enough, we’re already here.” He shrugs, “I think it might be good for me.”

You focus on Bear, still not seeing a clear reason as to why he’d want to speak to Art after a decade.

“Maybe you should go see Tashi.”

Your eyes snap to him, her name barely being spoken in your house for the last six years.

“…And do what?”

He shrugs, “Might be good for you…”

…

1:00pm

Your stomach seems to twist in a thousand ways as you continuously fix your hair and outfit on the way into the far too fancy hotel. As you pass the lobby, you almost turn around and throw up. But as your sister heads for the elevator, you know this is your one chance to speak to her.

Your shoes thump against the marble floor as you jog after her.

“T- Tashi!” You whisper shout, reaching her just in time.

She turns around. Taking one look at you, she looks to your left and right, utterly confused.

“What are you doing here?” She asks, tone laced with disgust.

It’s been so long. She looks so different, her voice has such a maturity to it. But that dominating energy that she brings everywhere hasn’t changed a bit.

“Well I…” You fumble, all of your practice going out the window. “ I heard you were here, I wanted to say hello.”

“Say hello?” She looks you up and down, turning her full attention to you as she steps forward. “Honestly, I don’t want your fucking hello, Ava. Really, I don’t.”

You shake your head, “Tashi-“

"I can't believe you have the balls to be here. After what you fucking did to me."

"What I-“ You compose yourself, remembering exactly how arguments with your sister always go. “Tashi, what the fuck did I do to you?"

"Are you serious?" She asks, "You're joking, yes?"

"No, I'm really not."

"You left me for 13 years by my fucking self." She raises her voice, "I had a wedding, I had a baby, and where were you? My sister was too stuck on a grudge to ever come back into my life, you're a waste of my fucking time." She begins to walk away.

“Hey.” You follow her, grabbing her arm and spinning her back around.

“Get off.”

"Not one of those events was I invited to, Tash. Not one. If you wanted me back, if you gave a shit, you would've acted like it. But you're not going to sit here and act like I was in the wrong and I should've reached out to you. Hell, I did fucking reach out to you.”

“In the wrong?” She snatches her arm from you. “Ava, are you clinically fucking stupid? You're hung up on a situation from 13 years ago-"

"No, but it's not from 13 years ago, Tashi.” You cut her off, getting in her face. “Because you're doing the same thing right now that you did when you were 18. You're sitting here blaming the world for your life decisions. You're blaming me for being angry that you were and are a narcissist who wants someone else to be the athlete that you never were. Every time I thought of coming back l'd imagine what my sister would say and I couldn't do it. But guess what Tashi, now I see through you. I fucking see it, Patrick sees it, and when Art finally opens his eyes you'll finally see yourself for what you are."

She stares at you, a chuckle escaping her. "Ava, this is pathetic. Genuinely. Because at the end of the day, it's not my fucking fault that you gave up. Now l'm in a position where I don't have to be here. I have a life, a pretty fucking good one, outside of this. Outside of you. This Final, it's practice. It's fucking child's play for us, whereas for the Zweigs...This is it for you. Your last fucking loss.”

“Yeah. Okay Tash.” You roll your eyes, "Keep throwing insults at me to distract from the fact that you're a shitty person."

"I'm a shitty pers- You fucking abandoned your family for 13 fucking years!"

"Because my sister is an insufferable egomaniac who can't accept the fact that her husband doesn't want to do this shit anymore and her tennis life is over!” You shout back, your voices echoing throughout the hotel. “It's fucking over Tashi, give it up. That's why I left you, because you're fucking dreadful! You're dreadful and everyone knows it."

Tashi slowly nods, the hotel staff looking at the two of you.

"...Ava, do you know what your husband does late at night?"

Your eyes widen, your heart skipping a beat as she addresses the unspoken.

"Fuck you." You spit.

"I'm really asking, because from what I experienced...You're a lucky woman."

Now you’re the one with disgust in your eyes, the urge to spit in her face stronger than ever before.

“…Say hi to mom for me, Tashi." You say, your hands balling into fists.

“Happy to.” She utters, walking toward the elevator. “Tell Patrick I’m wishing him good luck.”

…

3:00pm

You only tell your husband bits a pieces of your encounter, not daring to remind him of the man he was in Atlanta.

“I don’t even know why I tried.”

“Both of them are assholes.” He agrees, “At least now we’re sure of it.”

“I guess.” You bite your nails, stroking Bear’s ears. “Patrick you have to beat him in the Final. We can’t let them win.”

“I know, baby.” He nods, on your wavelength. “I know.”

——

May 4th, 2019 // Night Before the Final, 11:25pm

“Pat, it’s really coming down out there.” You look out of the hotel window, tarps flying into the street. “What if they cancel the match?”

“They’d never do that.” He watches the TV, “It should lighten up by morning.” 

You hum, snuggling next to him as the bright screen flashes through an action sequence. Patrick’s phone vibrates, his phone brightness lighting the rest of the room.

“Oh, baby.” He shifts his body, making you sit up. “I gotta go.”

“Now? Why?” You try to look on his phone but he pulls it away, scrolling.

“I have to, um,” He rubs his head, looking stressed. “My racquet, I have to pick it up.”

“The fuck does that mean?”

“They just messaged reminding me that we have to have this certain racquet to compete tomorrow.” He stands up, rushing toward the door.

“What- Patrick,” You follow him, “It’s like a fucking flash flood out there, can you not do this tomorrow?”

“Baby, they close at midnight, I gotta go,” He kisses you, “I love you.”

“Patrick, wait-“

“I love you, I have to go!” He shuts the door behind him.

…

12:30am

You have a strange urge to cry as you scroll through Art Donaldson’s instagram. Photos of him and his seemingly perfect family are plastered all over, an ‘@Tashidonaldson ♡’ at the top of his bio.

Patrick never wanted kids, said they’d cost too much and you couldn’t care for them. He was correct about the former, but care for children, you are willing and able to do. But when you married him, he did a lot of the decision making for you. 

Now, as he’s blown all of your savings, lost his tennis touch, and been out of the damn hotel room for an hour doing god knows what , you wish you could shout at past you to get a grip. 

Though, looking at these picture now, you wish you could do the same to past Art Donaldson too. 

———

May 5th, 2019 // 📍New Rochelle Courts, 1:00pm

Final Day

The crowd’s heads robotically turned side to side as Art and Patrick dog it out in a vicious match. You sit in your assigned seat next to your sister, the endless stream of slander not ceasing, not even today.

“Is he retiring after this?” You ask, your head still going between the men.

Tashi shrugs, her expression hidden behind her sunglasses. “Maybe.”

"...I don't think Patrick will ever retire. I think tennis is all he has."

She hums, "If only he'd start winning his matches."

"He doesn't always play for the wins, Tashi."

"Yeah, he plays for the participation money."

"Maybe he does." You say, "At least he does it by choice."

She looks to you, her attention no longer on her husband’s tie breaker. "Art does it by choice."

“Like hell he does.” You scoff, “He wouldn't be retiring after becoming a Career Grand Slam if he wanted to be doing this.”

“Art is an adult, he does what he wants.” She looks back to the court.

“Art is your slave, he does what you want.”

Tashi continues trying to get to you. As Patrick sets for his next serve, he looks in your direction. Only, he isn’t looking at you, he’s looking at your sister. He returns his gaze to Art, placing his ball in the neck of his racquet.

Both you and Art freeze, staring at your husband. The men seem to be in their own world, but Patrick must’ve forgotten that you know too. The word seems to muffle around you as you stare at your husband’s evil grin at Art.

You stand on shaky legs, grasping your stomach as bile threatens to come up. 

“Hey…” Tashi calls after you, “Ava, what the fuck are you doing?”

You run to the nearest exit, Patrick’s blatant disrespect and repulsiveness making you want to genuinely die where you stand.

It’s only as you stumble to your car that it truly hits you who the man you married really is, and how he really sees you. 

Like everyone else, he thinks you’re a pawn in Tashi’s game. A piece that can be battered and bruised but will never go away, as it’s crucial to the game of Tashi. You want to vomit as you sit in your car, Patrick’s scent sending you into a violent sick.

———

May 14th, 2019 // 📍Zweig home, 12:00pm

9 Days Later

Three knocks at the door echo through your almost empty house. You pause your show, unlatching the chain and opening it. 

Patrick stands in front of you, a hysterical attempt of a sad expression on his face.

“Everything’s here.” You walk him in, pointing to the boxes full of his stuff in the kitchen. “The only things that aren’t are your racquets, trophies, cups, stuff like that. Those are in the closet so they wouldn’t get mixed up.”

“Thanks.” He says, feeling like an alien in this house.

“Yeah.” You give him a thumbs up, returning to the couch next to Bear.

He spends an hour loudly moving his things from the kitchen to his car, the sound almost drowning out your show. Regardless, you stay put, wanting him to be done as fast as he can.

“Ava…” He calls over the reality TV. You ignore him, popping another veggie straw into your mouth. 

Suddenly, his arm comes from behind you, grabbing the remote and muting it.

“Hey.” You turn around.

“I’m talking to you.”

“Okay, well I don’t want to talk to you.”

“Ava, I’m sorry-“

“Pat,” You chuckle, not being able to keep it in. “Don’t even.”

“Baby, listen to me, okay? I fucked up-“

“Patrick, Patrick!” You stand up, “Just stop, okay? Leave me be, finish getting your shit, and I’ll have the papers served to you by the end of the week.”

“Baby, no. Please.”

“Honey, there’s nothing you can say.” You shake your head, having prepared for his begging days ago. “Go beg to your mistress, yeah?”

He continues rambling, stumbling over his words. “Ava, it was such a bad mistake. I told myself it was strategy and- And because me and her have a complicated past I couldn’t see straight-“

“But nothing about us is complicated, right? We are married, we’re supposed to be a team. But you betrayed me, plain and simple.” You lay it out for him, “You’re a cheater and we’re done, now go.”

“It was a mistake-“

“Patrick…” You inhale, “I’m trying not to lose it, you need to get the fuck out.”

“Just hear me out-“

“Get out of the house, Patrick.” 

“We can come back from this, Ava. We can.”

Your jaw hangs agape in genuine disbelief. He seems to notice he fucked up again as he stops speaking. You walk around the couch, getting in his face the same way Tashi used to get in yours.

“Patrick,” You begin, “I gave everything for you. I gave up my life, I gave up my family, I gave up Art, I left it all for you. I abandoned so much to be in your corner because I was in love with you, I really was. Whether you felt the same about me, I’ll never actually know-“

“I loved you, baby. I still love you-“

“But I thought you were the one who understood me, Patrick. But somehow every time I gave you a chance to correct yourself you threw it away to be with Tashi. Over and over. She’s constantly being picked over me, her feelings over mine, her body over mine, her opinion over mine…You’re just another one of her fans. You’re just like Art- Honestly, you’re fucking worse. At least  he pretended to like me all those years ago. Now, as my husband, you just don’t give a shit. Just publicly showing that you slept with my sister.”

“…Why do you keep bringing up Art?” He looks down at you, “Do you- Do you feel something for him still?”

“Oh my fucking-“ You cover your face, composing yourself once again before continuing. “Pat, it’s been a long, long time since this all started. And if I could go back I’d change many things. But at the end of it all, I’m here because I worked for it and I endured it. You and Art can stay stuck under Tashi’s finger, that’s fine. But I know that life is bigger than that. Bigger than this weird threesome love triangle shit that you circle back to every few years. I am a grown woman who is in control of her own life so if you don’t have anymore comments, you need to get out and sign the papers when they’re served to you, Patrick.”

“…Baby, please,” He cries, his lip quivering. “You love me, we love each other. Please just think about it.”

You tilt your head, “Do you want me to be honest?”

Patrick nods, hiccuping on his tears.

“…All of this is really really beneath me.” You quietly tell him.

He lowers his head, his hands covering his eyes.

“When I was 18 I might have been broken over stuff like this but…” You shrug, “Things are very very different from when we were teenagers.” 

[berryispunk]

When Words Fail, Let Me Stay

pairing: Frankie Morales x gn! reader

notes: Detailed discussion about depression so be aware before reading. I wish I could (finally) write something happy but I can't.

tags: heavy on mental health struggles (depression), spoilers for 'Jane the Virgin', mention of loss, soft! Frankie, best friend! Frankie, comfort, hurt, fluff, no physical description of reader

summary: Trapped in your own head, you find a glimmer of comfort and connection in your friend Frankie.

word count: 1,5 k

It crept up on you. Slowly but surely, swallowing you piece by piece until there was nothing left. You should have known better—should have reacted sooner. But you stayed rooted in place, watching the waves crash around the abyss beneath you. You went on with your life, going through the motions without really being there at all. You didn’t even register words anymore, conversations growing harder by the day. Your apartment mirrors your inner mess perfectly: used plates and glasses stacked up, waiting to be cleaned, but you can’t bring yourself to do it. Even if you wanted to—even if you had a tiny bit of energy left—as soon as you saw all the work that had to be done, you froze all over again.

So the days went on, and you rotted in your bed, the only place you found comfort. You doom-scrolled through various social media apps, desperately trying to fill the void with anything. But it was to no avail. You isolated yourself from everyone. You didn’t want to be a burden to them or worry them more than necessary. Of course, the healthier option would be to at least open up to someone—anyone—but how were you supposed to untangle the mess in your mind enough to explain it? You were afraid that if you told anyone about your darkest thoughts, they’d step back—afraid of being pulled into the darkness with you. How would they understand, anyway? No one is you. Thankfully.

One evening, you lie in bed, your favorite TV show playing for the hundredth time—just background noise to drown out the voices in your head. Your phone buzzes on the nightstand. Once. Twice. You ignore it, too lost in your own haze to care.

Then it buzzes again. With an irritated sigh, you reach for it.

__________________________________________________________

Frankie Morales 🚁3 New Messages

[10:30 p.m.] Hey hermosa, what was the name of this show you liked so much again?

[10:31 p.m.] It was something with ‘Virgin,’ that’s all I remember 🤔

[10:32 p.m.] It was the one where the abuela talks Spanish most of the time and you always ask me what she said… grr, please help 🆘

Even in your current state, you can’t help but let a faint smile tug at your lips. It’s completely random—but still, you decide to reply, if only to stop him from pestering you.

_________________________________________________________

🍓: I guess you mean Jane the Virgin.

Frankie Morales 🚁: YEAH!!! That’s it. I was going crazy over here. Jane the Virgin, right.

🍓: I’m glad I was able to help. I’m actually watching it right now 😅

Frankie Morales 🚁: Oh, really? Interesting. At this point, I bet you could reenact every scene without even thinking. How many times have you rewatched it by now?

🍓: Don’t be mean, Frankie. And honestly, I have no clue anymore 😅 Maybe the 6th or 7th time.

Frankie Morales 🚁: Which season are you at?

🍓: Just started Season 3. Michael got shot after their wedding. They’re at the hospital, and Michael’s mom is being a bitch to Jane.

Frankie Morales 🚁: Oh, alright. I remember. Season 3 is so intense, isn’t it?

🍓: Yeah, but it’s not my favorite.

Frankie Morales 🚁: Which is your favorite?

🍓: You’re asking ME? That’s impossible to decide!

Frankie Morales 🚁: C’mon, you have to have some preference. I think mine’s Season 1 meeting all the characters and the chaos starting.

🍓: Oh yeah, Season 1 is definitely in my top 3. But I also really love Season 4, even though it’s super sad. The way Jane deals with grief… I felt seen. I actually started watching the show shortly after my grandma died. The dynamic between Jane, Xo, and Abuela is just so comforting to me. I miss my grandma. 😔

Frankie Morales 🚁: I’m sorry, hermosa. I didn’t know about your grandma.

🍓: It’s okay, I don’t talk much about it. Just another one of those things that makes me too sad to bring up.

Frankie Morales 🚁: That’s fair. Hey, I was wondering—should I pick up where you’re at so we can watch together? 😄

🍓: You don’t have to. You already rewatched it twice with me. I’m sure you have better things to do on a Friday night than sitting through my comfort show again.

Frankie Morales 🚁: I was actually supposed to go out with the boys, but I ditched them last minute. Just wasn’t in the mood. You know that feeling? 🧐

Yes. More than he probably realizes.

🍓: I’m the wrong person to ask, Frankie. I always prefer a night in with movies and snacks over going out. 😅

Frankie Morales 🚁: My bad, preciosa. 😂

You’re not sure why, but suddenly, you feel the urge to tell him—just a little—what’s been running through your head. It’s always easier over text than saying it to his face. Especially when he’s looking at you with those damn warm, worried brown eyes.

🍓: Honestly, I haven’t been in the mood for anything the last few days.

Frankie Morales 🚁: Oh? How come?

You sigh.

🍓: I guess my depression has me in a chokehold again.

Frankie Morales 🚁: That sucks. Anything I can do?

There it is again. His fucking attentiveness. It’s one of the things you love most about him, but in times like this, when you struggle so hard, it makes your heart ache. You don’t deserve this kind of care, do you? Not after pushing him away so many times. But the warmth in his words reaches you in a way nothing else has in a long time.

🍓: I don’t know, Frankie. I don’t think there’s much anyone can do. It’s just one of those times where everything feels too heavy.

Frankie Morales 🚁: I get that, hermosa. But you don’t have to carry all that weight alone. Maybe I can come over?

You stare at your screen, fingers hovering over the keyboard. The idea of company is both terrifying and tempting. You want to say no—after all, your apartment is a mess, and so are you. But then you think about the quiet presence Frankie brings, the way he never pushes, just stays. The way he has always made you feel a little less alone. He feels like a warm fire, bringing in light—even when you don’t want it. He may be the one person who truly understands your pain after everything he’s been through.

🍓: I appreciate that, Frankie. Really.

Frankie Morales 🚁: Anytime, preciosa. You know I mean it.

A small, tired smile tugs at your lips. Typical Frankie.

🍓: Can I be honest with you about something?

Frankie Morales 🚁: Always.

🍓: I hate feeling like this. It’s like I’m stuck in a loop. No matter what I do, I just end up back here—tired, unmotivated, isolating myself. I know I should reach out more, but I don’t even know what to say half the time. The chaos in my head is unbearable for me. How am I supposed to explain it to someone else?

A long pause. For a second, your heart clenches in panic. Maybe you overshared. But before you can spiral further, your phone buzzes.

Frankie Morales 🚁: You don’t have to explain it perfectly, hermosa. I get it. More than you probably know.

Something in his words makes your chest tighten.

Frankie Morales 🚁: You don’t have to fight this alone. Let me come over. I’ll bring snacks. No pressure. No expectations. Just company.

You exhale shakily.

🍓: …Okay.

Frankie Morales 🚁: Be there in 20. Want anything specific?

🍓: Just you is fine.

You toss your phone onto the bed and let out a shaky breath. This doesn’t fix everything. It doesn’t lift the weight in your chest or clear the fog in your mind. But for the first time in a long time, you don’t feel like you’re carrying it alone. And that’s because of Frankie—because he cared enough to reach through the silence, to remind you that someone still sees you. And most importantly, care enough to stay. To keep trying, even when you pull away. To offer kindness without expecting anything in return. It’s a small thing maybe, but to you, it feels monumental.

thanks for reading <3

my masterlist

[peachy-cheeks]

Kusakabe Atsuya A to Z

warnings: nsfw... and didn’t proofread… ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

a/n: ovulating, rewatching season 2, and kinda fixating on maybe my favorite minor male character in jjk... idk i know there are more atsuya stans out here in hiding and i'm sad that there's more fic for like... idk... naoya... than him... like stand up yall, he's excellent, relatable, has a decent backstory, and i kinda wanna give him a kiss. anyway....

Masterlist

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

Atsuya's disposition often reads as removed, cold, or unenthusiastic but I like to think of this in two ways: it's a defense mechanism and his job (unfortunately tied to his entire life) is conducive to him acting this way.

All of that to say he's likely the exact opposite one-on-one. Especially when he's completely disarmed by the comfort of his partner— he's the type to cradle and cuddle you, shower you in little pecks, gently move strands of hair out the way to get a better view of your face, and bury his face into your neck to breathe more of you in... You might have to kick him off of you to grab a towel before he falls asleep though.

B = Body part (Their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

For him, it’s his forearms. He’s grateful that they’re used to bearing a lot of weight and can still exert a good amount of strength. It also gives him a little endorphin rush to feel the palm of your hands grip onto his arms for leverage and support.

His favorite part of you is a 50/50 split between your breasts and the inner plush of your thighs. The sensation of rubbing against, gripping onto, pinching, and biting the delicate skin excites him, mostly because he knows that he can always get a rise out of you from those areas. Truly he's indecisive, but he knows that the soft warmth feels much better in his grasp than the stiff, weighty tsuka (the main source of the callouses on his fingertips) he's used to reaching for.

C = Cum (What it says on the tin...)

I mean there isn't anything really special about his cum (at least he thinks), but he does love seeing it streaked across your face, glistening in your mouth, running along your chin and down your neck. Guilty pleasure is seeing it in your hair, though he sympathizes with how annoying that can be to deal with so he tries to avoid it.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He absolutely loves when you boss him around. Not that he doesn't already listen to you or that he'd be combative, but he really can't help it if his pants feel just a little tighter every time you tell him what he "needs" to do or even get a little cross with him. Oof... and you potentially praising him for doing something right? Definitely a submissive side he has yet to unpack or even connect the behavior with, though he can totally acknowledge that you taking the reins gives him a chance to step back from the big brother/instructor role for once.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

Decently experienced and while he wouldn't divulge his past escapades with you (unless you asked), you can definitely feel the experience in how he touches you. Attentive and confident in how his hands direct your body.

F = Favorite Position (This goes without saying.)

Indecisive on this as well but he takes deep pleasure in seeing you take control. If he had to list his favorite three, it would be cowgirl, reverse cowgirl, and missionary at the very top.

I mean, he loves seeing you on top but he's a traditionalist and, efficiency-wise, he can reach where you need him most at a faster and harder pace with you under him. Missionary is also the easiest position for him to hold your cheeks between his hand to keep your focus on him.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

Again, someone who seems more serious than not. But when he's comfortable and in a non-life threatening situation between the legs of his lover, a tender side of Atsuya shows. Of course, it takes a bit of time... multiple sessions and hours really... of cutting through his reserved attitude, but after a while you find that both of your kisses, moans, and deep, vulnerable sighs are bookended by smiles and giggles. Maybe someone pulled a funny face or decided to give up prematurely on a strenuous position. Maybe you both have a moment of realization that the perfect person is fucking you and you can't help but laugh at your luck.

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

I have a personal soft-spot for this so walk with me a bit... chest, arms, legs... perfect sprinkle of hair... enough to give a very mature (ugh... dilf-esque) compliment to the toned muscles underneath. A very charming, dark happy trail dusts his lower abs and leads to a nicely trimmed yet fuller tuft of hair above his dick.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…) 

Recurring theme here... he's a secret sweetheart. Day-to-day and outside of a dangerous situation, he's a particularly dedicated, caring, and thoughtful person. There's still a reserved quality to how romantic he is PDA-wise. Hand-holding is fine, the occasional well-timed kiss— ideally away from students— is fine, he just prefers to be more chivalrous (acts of service) than overtly affectionate (touch). He's more-so worried about giving himself the ick from being a bit too forward and all over you in public (and in-turn giving you the ick.)

But... when he is all over you, the body worship makes you feel like the only person on earth. It's like he has an innate sense of how to nonverbally rectify anything you may have misread about his feelings for you (from a mix of cultivated experience and natural chemistry). Because he's constantly in minor disbelief about how you want him as much as he wants you, in bed he's very communicative, quick to learn all of your trigger points, and loves to hand out compliments:

"Mm... I remember. That spot's really sensitive... can I kiss you there?"

"Comfortable? Feel like my hands were made for holding you here..."

"Seriously don't get how someone can be as perfect as you..."

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

Oh boy... rare now since he's not away from you too often. I think prior to shooting his shot with you he had a major moment of self-discovery where you slowly became the main subject of his spank-bank.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

Something about Atsuya makes me think that he's generally vanilla but would be really into subtle power-play. Not committed to the full dom/sub relationship or BDSM as a practice, but loves a little touch of friendly roughness. A hand to his (or your) throat, hair tugging, a few loving slaps, maybe even a little spit-play.

I think shibari/kinbaku would be the furthest he'd go. He respects the beauty of it, the amount of trust and patience it takes to do it right, the learning process, and how much you look like you need him by the end.

L = Location (Favorite places to do the do)

Traditionalist... nothing can beat a bedroom. Though the shower is nice... keeping you from slipping gives him a great opportunity to lift. The kitchen table is great too since it offers the perfect leverage. The couch offers the same thing too for a few different positions. Well... I guess as long as it's at home...

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

Your smile. It’s really that simple. Seeing you express any amount of joy, let alone share it with him fills him with a type of yearning that he can’t really verbalize. It just makes him want to be as close to you as possible.

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Teacher kink... would indulge if you really enjoyed it but reminds him entirely too much of work 😭

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

He enjoys giving and isn't bad at it by any means but you swear something very repressed and primal unveils itself when he locks eyes with you on your knees, mouth open, and doe-eyed. He tries to be gentle about it at least.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

This can vary since he enjoys almost any pace as long as it's with you. With setting a pace he really keeps an eye out for what he thinks you'd prefer at the moment. I think there's always a point where he can't hold back but he strategizes around and prioritizes getting you off... depends on how much time you both have. But hey, if the pace happens to start out needy and desperate...

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

Not against a quickie, but as mentioned, defers to your mood on how to proceed. For him, the most likely scenario of needing a quickie (because he’d prefer to just be late or cancel whatever was cutting into your time) would be on campus; a taboo that he hates to admit actually excites him.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

He's willing to experiment with you and anyone he's had an extended relationship with, but frankly speaking the limits of his own risk-taking imagination run fairly short (apart from speculating on what places you two could get away with hooking up.) But if you can show him something new, he's likely game (though, nothing super bloody or violent... just not his thing.)

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

He blames it on getting older but, normally, twice in one go is maybe the best he can do. Definitely exceptions to this... say someone feels particularly giving, there's a special occasion (anniversaries, birthdays, coming back from an assignment, a nice date night), or maybe you two lucked out and have a whole weekend, unbusy and unbothered, together.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

He seems like a very simple, no-frills guy. But if you have any favorites to bring to the table, that'd likely pique his interest.

U = Unfair (How much they like to tease)

Atsuya aims to please so his teasing (just light petting, groping, and sweet whispers) is typically relegated to foreplay. Beyond this, he likes to give you very simple, sometimes curt, directions to follow while he’s fucking you. He doesn’t fully restrict you (most of the time) or prevent you from chasing your high but he likes to put small roadblocks and rules to bargain on in your way:

“Hey, look at me. Don’t touch. I’ll do it if you look at me. Mmhmm… keep your eyes here. Good... Feel good? That what you wanted?”

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

Not loud, per-say, but does have a habit of moaning into your mouth, against your ear, or just against your body in general. Maybe he’s a little too shy to moan aloud and feels safer relinquishing these rare sounds to you only.

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

Atsuya definitely has an oral fixation. He deeply misses smoking– especially a post-sex cigarette– but he doesn’t mind if you indulge. Actually, he really looks forward to seeing you have one. Over the years he’s wisened up to the fact that smoke deteriorates the body but he still finds something enticing about the act of sucking on death itself. Especially the way you do it (of course, he does want you to live a long, prosperous life…)

You always offer him a hit but he’s principled enough to look and not touch… he also keeps a few candies in a couple of different drawers around the house, so he’s covered. On the more current end of his oral fixation, he loves sharing lollipops with you. Even better when you steal a kiss with the candy caught between both your lips.

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

Tanned shaft (that he loves feeling you squeeze against), darker pink tip (that he loves feeling you suck on), wonderful shape with a few prominent veins and an upward tilt. Girth-y and not unbearably long, but even when he's not hard there's a decent chub.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

He would say he has a very unremarkably normal libido though you’d say otherwise. Again, he tries to reel back on PDA but when you’re both lounging around, cooking, doing chores around the house, getting dressed, and other regular daily activities he can get quite handsy and heart-eyed.

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Leaves a bit of space (let's say an hour... hour and thirty tops) for a sweet and short make-out, pillow-talk, and cleanup but otherwise ready to sleep like a swaddled baby and will most likely be the big spoon.

[mononijikayu]

love of my life — geto suguru.

When Geto Suguru walked through the door, you felt your breath catch. He looked both familiar and distant, the lines of weariness etched deeper than you remembered. For a moment, neither of you spoke, the weight of unspoken words hanging heavy in the air. He was still the man you loved and the man that broke your heart—he was everything to you and he was nothing all at once. And you wished, you wished you could decide what he was, truly.

Genre: Alternate Universe - No Curse (Modern Day)

Warning/s: Actors AU!, Romance, Actors in Love, Secret Romance Trope, Co-workers In Love, Friends to Lovers, Lovers to Exes, Angst, Fluff, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Pining, Emotional Hurt, Break-Up, Happy Ending, Profanity, Mention of Sexual Contexts, Mention of Exes Getitng Back Together, Depiction of Break-Up, Depiction of Alcohol Consumption, Mentions of Alcohol, Geto Suguru as a Singer-Songwriting Actor, Reader is his Muse, HE IS IN LOVE YOUR HONOR;

masterlist

song: love of my life by queen.

note: i ended up rewatching the videos by cut and im still struck by the conversation between tony and sofya in truth or drink and got inspired. i hope that they find the happiness that they always deserved and know that the love they had at one point was something else. anyway, i hope you enjoy this and i hope you guys have a good one!!! i love you <3333

YOU WERE EXCITED FOR YOUR CHARACTER. You couldn’t help but feel excitement flood through you as you read through the words across the pages over and over. You could not stop reading. The writing was really well done for this part of the manga, and so when you heard that this part of the story was finally going to make it into the screen, you were ecstatic. 

You hummed as you tried to speak a line, one after another, in different tones and textures. Often, you would bring a pen with you and write off what you think about the scene and how you want to say it. But getting this from your manager just now, you wanted to immediately dive into it and so, you neglected the pen. You’ll make a mental note about it. 

The warm aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the air as you settled into the languid table, your vibrant eyes skimming over the script. The coffee machine’s sound echoed for a moment. Your drink was done. You put down the script for a moment and walked over to your coffee machine.

You pour some on the mug waiting on the corner. Rushing over to the fridge, you take the carton of milk and pour a little bit of it on your cup. You didn’t put in that much milk. You wanted to be active as you read, the milk would make you sleepy. 

Script in hand and coffee secured, you make your way into the living room and carefully rested the mug on the coffee table. You plopped your body onto the couch once again and started to read once more. You were captivated by the story when it first came out in serialization.

But you never expected that it would grow big like this one day and even more so, play one of your favorite characters in the show. You were glad for the opportunity, when it first came around. The yes was immediate and one season and a movie — you were now here, for another season once again.

“Oh, so that scene with Suguru is happening, hm?” You gasp, your eyes scanning through the words. “Yo! Suguru, they’re not going to disappear, don’t hog them, oh my god.”

Your character was the only senior left in Tokyo Jujutsu High by that point and so, they guide them into the ropes of being sorcerers. In modern times, they’re very close, Satoru and your character. You were both left behind by Suguru's character.

But before that, there was Suguru and Suguru was in love with their senpai, but staved off for Satoru. But this scene, in Okinawa, was the moment Suguru couldn’t help it anymore and thought about making a move. You flipped another page.

“Oh baby, you’re gonna be so sad when he leaves.” You muttered under your breath, continuing to read. “Don’t start something you can’t continue!”

“Don’t start something I can’t continue?” You heard the voice echo through the apartment. Your head snaps to the direction of the door and you smile, seeing his purple eyes gleam against yours. “What do you have on hand, darling?”

“Script’s arrived!” You say, waving your own in the air. You pointed to the side. “Your manager left yours here too.”

Geto Suguru blinked, looking at where you were pointing out. “Wow, I didn’t think that it would get here this early.”

“Right?” You say as you look at the scripts again. “They really crunched the writing time this time. And it’s so good!”

“Well, they finally got the approval from Akutami–sensei fast this time.”

“I suppose they probably did.” 

He hums as he walks over to you and sits down by you. He turns to you and places a small kiss on your lips. ”Hey, love.”

“Hey, Sugu.” You whisper back. “You’re home late.”

"Sorry I'm late. The recording ran longer than expected."

You smiled up at him, feeling the familiar warmth that always accompanied his presence. "It's okay. How did it go?"

He slid into the seat opposite me, his purple eyes sparkling with excitement. "It went great. I think you're going to love the new song. It's… special."

"You always say that, Sugu." You teased, though you knew this one would be extraordinary, just like all the others.

“Well, it's because you’re the only person I write about.” He grins at you sheepishly. “And I am in love with you.”

“Hm…that’s true.” You giggle.

“Anything interesting in the script?”

“Oh, darling, you have no idea! Let me catch you up!”

The two of you spent the next hour discussing the show, your upcoming scenes, and the plans for your future projects. He told you about the upcoming releases he has for his music, if he was planning to go touring again.

It was moments like these, away from the glitz and glamor, that you think you cherished the most. You were both natural, you were just whole — together. Here, we were just two people in love, supporting each other through the highs and lows of your demanding careers.

Once you finished the other script you were going to receive in the upcoming week for a movie you were going to star in, Suguru sighed and looked at you for a moment. He often does that, trying to memorize the wonder in your face, over and over again.

He’s often away from you because of work too. And so he takes it all in. He burns the memory of you so deeply into him that it's all he remembers for weeks and months until you both meet again.

Suguru took my hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. "You know, I was thinking about our next awards show. I have a feeling you might be giving another speech soon."

You laughed, shaking my head. "And you know I'll be paying homage to you, as always."

He grinned, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "And I'll be in the front row, cheering you on, as always."

Geto Suguru is your lover. But he’s also your co–worker on multiple projects, including Jujutsu Kaisen. The beloved charismatic actor with a voice that could melt hearts, had captured your attention from the moment you first met on set. His passion for acting was matched only by his love for music. He was such an addition to the casting list, because he’d been popular since he was a teenager and he only kept getting popular with time. 

Everything about Suguru was electric. From the moment you met him, he exuded a kind of wonder that drew you in effortlessly. As your senpai in the industry, he was a bit older and infinitely wiser, but unlike others you had encountered, he didn't just guide you—he cared for you deeply, nurturing your talents and helping you grow.

He was always there with a kind word and enthusiastic encouragement, urging you to accept scripts that came your way and guiding you on how to navigate the complexities of the industry. His wisdom extended beyond acting techniques; he knew how to choose stories that would resonate with you, stories that would challenge and inspire.

"Remember, it's not just about the lines you deliver," he once said over coffee, his eyes sparkling with sincerity. "It's about the stories you choose to tell. Each role you take on is a part of your journey as an artist."

He taught you the intricacies of set dynamics, the unspoken rules of professionalism, and the importance of forging genuine connections in a competitive world. Suguru didn't just impart knowledge; he shared his passion for storytelling and his belief in your potential.

You were grateful for his presence in your life, not just as a mentor but as a friend who believed in you when doubt crept in. His kindness and enthusiasm were infectious, and every interaction with him left you feeling inspired and capable of reaching new heights.

As you reflected on your journey together, you couldn't help but smile at the thought of how far you had come under his guidance. Suguru was more than a mentor; he was a guiding light in an industry that could sometimes feel overwhelming. And for that, you were endlessly thankful.

The kindness and care Suguru showed extended far beyond the flicker of the camera lens. Alongside Satoru, the three of you often found yourselves on spontaneous trips together. When Utahime and Shoko weren't caught up in their own burgeoning careers, they joined in too. These moments outside of work allowed your bond with Suguru to deepen naturally over time.

As you explored new places together, shared meals, and exchanged stories under starlit skies, a subtle shift occurred. What began as admiration for his talent and guidance blossomed into something more profound. Suguru's laughter became the soundtrack to your happiest memories, his understanding gaze a sanctuary in moments of uncertainty.

One night, sitting by a crackling campfire under a blanket of stars, Suguru reached for your hand. The warmth of his touch spoke volumes, words unspoken yet understood between you. 

"I never expected this, you know." he murmured, his voice soft with wonder.

You smiled, squeezing his hand gently. "Me neither." you confessed, feeling the weight of truth and possibility melt into one in the air.

As days turned into weeks and months, the realization grew stronger: you had fallen in love with Suguru. His kindness, wisdom, and unwavering support had woven their way into your heart, creating a tapestry of feelings that surpassed friendship and mentorship.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon painting the sky in hues of gold and crimson, you found yourselves alone by a tranquil lake. The serenity of the moment mirrored the quiet certainty in your hearts.

"I love you, doll." Suguru finally whispered, his eyes holding yours with a depth that took your breath away.

Tears glistened in your eyes as you replied, "I love you too, Suguru." the words a promise of shared dreams and endless possibilities.

In that serene moment, under the canopy of stars and the gentle rustle of leaves, romance bloomed between you—born from shared adventures, mutual respect, and a love that had quietly taken root and blossomed into something beautiful.

After those tranquil moments by the lake, Suguru and you returned to your bustling lives, carrying the newfound certainty of your love like a secret little treasure—one that only you could find. And you were happy with that. You wanted to make the privacy continue and so did he. The world has no claim to your love, until you both were comfortable about sharing it to the world.

In the whirlwind of your demanding careers, where every moment seemed accounted for and every move scrutinized, you discovered a sanctuary in stolen moments together. Your love thrived in the secrecy of stolen kisses exchanged on secluded corners of film sets, where the world couldn't intrude. 

Backstage at glittering award shows, amidst the clamor and flashbulbs, your fingers intertwined, a silent declaration of affection amid the spectacle. Despite the challenges that you both faced, from conflicting schedules to the relentless glare of media attention, you both carved out your own private oasis, where your connection deepened, nurtured by these precious, stolen moments.

It was during one of these stolen moments, when the whole Jujutsu Kaisen cast went on a spontaneous ski trip to the mountain, that the world caught a glimpse of our budding romance.

Paparazzi cameras flashed as we laughed and skied down powdery slopes, oblivious to the lenses capturing your every move. One kiss was all it took, and it was because you were desperate, you missed him too much and he obliged you, not caring who sees you both.

The photos splashed across tabloids and social media, sparking speculation and curiosity among fans and industry insiders alike. Your management started trying to do damage control at this time, as you both were not yet ready to say anything.

For days, the two of you navigated the newfound attention with a mix of amusement and caution, unsure of how to address the public's piqued interest in your personal lives.

But amidst the frenzy, there was a quiet certainty between us. One evening, as you and Suguru sat together in his cozy cabin retreat in the countryside. It was one of the places you loved being with him. Both of you were comfortable here, and no one was harassing you both. It was a change of pace from the city and for that you were glad. You knew your lover was in distress watching you have to be followed by cameras. 

It would have been fine if it was just him, but it was hard to see you struggle with that unwanted attention. But here, at the very least, he could be reassured that no one was going to be chasing after you both to catch a scoop for the newspaper tabloids tomorrow. You were in peace, watching the stars, surrounded by flickering firelight and the hush of falling snow outside, we knew it was time.

"I think we should tell them," Suguru said softly, his gaze steady and reassuring.

You nodded, taking a deep breath. "Yeah, I think so too. It's just... it feels like the right time, doesn't it?"

Suguru's smile was tender. "It does. We've been keeping this between us for so long. It's about time we let them know."

There was a mix of relief and nervous anticipation in your chest. The decision to share your relationship with others meant opening yourselves to scrutiny, but also embracing a newfound freedom in being open about your love.

"I'm glad you feel that way," you admitted, squeezing Suguru's hand gently. "I've been thinking about how we'd do it, though. Should we just... announce it? Or maybe ease into it somehow?"

Suguru considered for a moment, his expression thoughtful. "I think a quiet announcement, something personal. Maybe a statement or a post, just letting people in a bit. Nothing flashy, just sincere."

You smiled, feeling reassured by his calm demeanor. "That sounds perfect."

Together, both of you crafted a heartfelt message to the world via Instagram. You posted pictures of you both through the years, showing the little glimpses of the two of you, from colleagues to friends, and finally to lovers. You wrote about your deep respect and admiration you had for each other, of the shared moments that had brought you closer, and the joy you found in each other’s presence. 

When the announcement went live on your social media accounts, the response was overwhelming. Messages of love and support poured in from fans, friends, and colleagues alike. The world celebrated your love story, touched by the sincerity and authenticity of your words. And people were hooked about your romance. Somehow, the world saw an it couple. People gushed over everything about you.

Over the years, Geto Suguru had poured his heart into composing songs that were not just music, but reflections of your relationship. Each song was a tapestry woven with threads of joy, resilience, and quiet understanding. No one would understand each song better than you. Each lyric was a brushstroke capturing the nuances that only belonged to the two of you.

In the private moments between tours and film sets, Suguru would often retreat with his guitar, letting melodies weave themselves around the emotions that sparked everything that made him think of you.

He found inspiration in the simplest gestures—a shared smile across a crowded room, the touch of hands entwined in a moment of quiet intimacy, or the unspoken reassurance in a glance exchanged amid hectic schedules.

His songs became a soundtrack to your lives, resonating with authenticity that transcended mere performance. Through his music, Suguru painted vivid portraits of shared laughter under starlit skies, whispered promises exchanged in moments stolen away from the world, and the profound sense of belonging that anchored us amidst the whirlwind of fame and public scrutiny.

As his compositions evolved, so did your relationship, and each new song became a chapter in a long and happy road that you both dwelled on. The world watched with fascination as your on-screen chemistry seamlessly transitioned into real-life devotion, and fans marveled at the palpable love that radiated between the both of you on and off the screen.

In the spotlight of a concert hall filled with eager listeners, Suguru stood before a sea of faces, his guitar a conduit for emotions that flowed freely from heart to fingertips. With each strum and every lyric sung with unwavering passion, he not only shared your story but invited the audience into the intimate spaces where your love blossomed and flourished.

And as he dedicated a song to someone special, his eyes met yours in the front row, a silent acknowledgment of the journey they had embarked on together—a journey immortalized in melodies that would linger in the hearts of all who bore witness to this love story.

The audience hushed as Suguru walked over to the microphone and spoke into the microphone, his voice carrying a soft warmth that filled the room. You could feel your heart pounding as he tried to find you. When your eyes met, it was electric.

"Tonight, I want to dedicate a song to someone very special." His eyes met yours in the front row, where you sat, heart skipping a beat at the intensity of his gaze. “Love of my life, up on that balcony! Doll, I love you. I hope you know that all this would never exist without you.”

As the first chords of the guitar filled the air, memories flooded back—late-night conversations, stolen kisses, moments of quiet intimacy that had woven themselves into the fabric of our lives. The world had watched in awe as our on-screen chemistry translated seamlessly into real life, and our fans often remarked on the palpable love we had for each other.

Suguru's voice resonated with emotion as he sang, each word a love letter whispered to your heart.  The world was singing songs to the words, the poems he wrote to you and only you. And you couldn’t feel any happier. Any more content, to be this loved. To be the only person that he truly deeply loves.

The lyrics painted a portrait of our journey, from tentative beginnings to a love that had weathered storms and emerged stronger. In that moment, surrounded by the melody and the warmth of Suguru's presence, you knew that this was more than a concert—it was a declaration, a celebration of a love that had transcended the screen and found its place in the hearts of everyone present.

As the final notes faded into the air, applause erupted, but all you could hear was the beating of your heart, synchronized with Suguru's, united in the melody of a love song that would resonate long after the last encore. The crowd clapped and cheered. You felt your eyes water with nothing but tears of joy.

He looked at you with that loving grin that was only for you.

The one that would stick with you for the rest of your life.

A month later, you both were in the clasp of your break up.

YOU DON’T KNOW HOW IT ALL FELL FAST. Work had always been demanding, but recently, it seemed to swallow up every spare moment. Your schedules became a maze of conflicting obligations, leaving little room for the moments of connection that once defined your relationship. As days turned into weeks without seeing each other, and unanswered messages piled up, the distance between you grew palpable.

One evening, after another missed opportunity to meet, you couldn't contain your concerns any longer. Sitting across from Suguru in a dimly lit corner of a bar, you voiced your worries, the words tinged with frustration and worry. "I feel like we're drifting apart. We hardly see each other anymore, and I miss you, Suguru.”

Suguru's response was unexpectedly calm, his demeanor unwavering. "We're fine, babe." he assured you, his voice steady but distant. “You know that.”

Frustration flared within you, fueled by the sting of his apparent indifference. "Fine?" you retorted, the words tinged with frustration and hurt. "How can you say that? We haven't even talked properly in weeks. I don't feel like my needs are being met, Suguru."

The bitterness of unspoken grievances bubbled to the surface, amplified by the haze of alcohol and the weight of unaddressed concerns. Pushing further, you demanded clarity. "When can we talk about this? When will you make time for us?"

Suguru's response was curt, his own patience wearing thin. "Not now, okay? I have too much on my plate."

The tension hung heavy in the air, charged with unresolved emotions and the sharp edges of unmet expectations. You leaned forward, voice tinged with desperation and a tinge of anger. "How long are we going to keep putting this off, Suguru? I need to know where we stand."

Suguru's expression tightened, a flicker of frustration crossing his features. "I said not now, alright? Can't you see I'm dealing with a lot right now?"

The words cut deeper than intended, slicing through the fragile thread of patience that held you both together. "I get that you're busy," you shot back, the bitterness in your voice betraying the hurt beneath. "But what about us? Are we just going to keep pretending everything's okay until it's too late?"

His silence spoke volumes, a testament to the growing distance between you. The crowded bar seemed to fade into the background as the weight of your words settled between you like an unbridgeable chasm. In that moment, the stark reality of your situation crystallized—you were drifting apart, caught in the undertow of careers that had once bound you together but now threatened to tear you apart.

The ache of longing mingled with frustration as you searched his eyes for a glimmer of reassurance, a sign that he still cared enough to fight for what you once had. But all you found was a weary resignation, a reflection of his own internal battles and the relentless demands of fame.

"We can't keep avoiding this," you finally whispered, the admission heavy with resignation. "I need more than just promises, Suguru. I need you."

Suguru's jaw tightened visibly, his normally composed demeanor cracking under the strain of your words. "What do you want from me, huh?" His voice, usually calm and steady, now carried a sharp edge of frustration. "I'm doing the best I can here. I have responsibilities, deadlines—"

"Responsibilities? Deadlines?" You couldn't hold back the bitterness that laced your retort. "What about us? Where do we fit into your grand plans, Suguru?"

The bar seemed to shrink around you, the noise of other patrons fading into a distant hum as your argument escalated. Anger surged through you, fueled by months of feeling sidelined and ignored. "I'm tired of waiting for you to have time for us. We used to make time, remember?"

His silence was damning, a stark confirmation of the growing divide between you. "You're being unreasonable," Suguru shot back, his voice rising slightly. "You know how important my work is."

"And what about how important we are?" The words slipped out like a dagger, cutting through the last vestiges of restraint. "I feel like I'm competing with your career for your attention, and I'm losing."

A wave of regret washed over Suguru's features, but his reply was defensive. "I can't just drop everything whenever you want me to, doll." he said, voice tinged with frustration. “It’s not that easy!”

"Then when, Suguru? When will you make time for us?" The plea in your voice was raw, exposed in the harsh light of reality. "Or are we just going to keep drifting further apart until there's nothing left?"

The accusation hung heavy in the air, a painful admission of the cracks that had formed in your once-solid foundation. In the charged silence that followed, neither of you seemed to have an answer, each grappling with the weight of unspoken truths and the daunting prospect of what lay ahead for a relationship once filled with promise, now teetering on the brink of irreparable damage.

Suguru's jaw tightened further, his gaze flickering with a mix of anger and hurt. "I don't know, okay?" His voice wavered, betraying the turmoil within. "I'm trying to balance everything, but it's not easy. Can't you see that?"

Frustration gnawed at your resolve, tears threatening to spill over as the ache of longing collided with the sting of his words. "I just need to know that we are still a priority to you." you whispered, voice cracking with emotion.

"I'm sorry. Suguru replied, his tone softer now, tinged with remorse. "I didn't mean for it to be like this. I thought... I thought we could make it work. We always have—”

The weight of his admission hung heavy in the air, a fragile bridge over the chasm that had widened between you. "So did I," you admitted, voice barely above a whisper. "But we can't keep going on like this, Suguru. Something has to change. We can’t continue like we always have and I just…”

For a moment, there was a flicker of understanding in his eyes, an acknowledgment of the pain and uncertainty. "Maybe... maybe we need some time," Suguru suggested tentatively, his voice tinged with resignation. "To figure things out. Cool down.”

The words landed heavily, their implications sinking in like stones cast into still waters.

Time—perhaps the only currency left to salvage what remained of your fractured relationship. In the dimly lit bar, amidst the ebb and flow of conversations that now seemed distant and inconsequential, you both grappled with the reality of what lay ahead. It was a crossroads of roads not taken.

Your heart sank as Suguru's words hung in the air, a stark reminder of the reality you both faced. Time—a desperate plea for a lifeline amidst the storm threatening to tear you apart. But beneath his suggestion lingered the unspoken truth, a truth you could no longer deny.

"I think... maybe we need more than just time, Suguru." you replied softly, each word heavy with the weight of impending sorrow.

Suguru's brow furrowed, confusion etched across his features as he searched your eyes for clarity. "What do you mean?"

"I mean..." Your voice caught, emotions threatening to overwhelm you. "I think we need to break up, Suguru."

The words hung between you, heavy and final. The air seemed to still, the ambient sounds of the bar fading into a distant echo as the gravity of your declaration settled over both of you. Suguru's expression shifted from confusion to disbelief, then to a desperate plea as he reached out, his hand trembling slightly.

"No." he whispered, his voice cracking with a mixture of anguish and denial. "Please, don't do this. We can work through this, I know we can."

Tears spilled freely down your cheeks as you shook your head, unable to meet his pleading gaze. "I don't think we can." you managed, voice breaking with the weight of your decision. "I can't keep feeling like I'm second to everything else in your life. I need more than what we have now."

Suguru's hand dropped to his side, his shoulders slumping in defeat. "But I love you, doll." he pleaded softly, voice thick with emotion. "I love you more than anything."

The pain in his voice mirrored your own, one that understands the gravity of this situation. But love alone couldn't bridge the gap that had grown between you, nor could it erase the wounds inflicted by neglect and unfulfilled promises. You can’t keep climbing on seesaws and expect no one will fall. Someone has to get down before someone hurts someone worse.

"I know." you whispered hoarsely, your heart breaking with every syllable. "But love isn't enough anymore."

With those final words, you turned away, unable to bear the weight of his gaze any longer. Each step felt like a farewell to a chapter of your life that had once held so much promise, now shrouded in the ache of what could have been.

“Goodbye, Suguru.” You whisper to him.

As he watched you leave,  Geto Suguru remained rooted to the spot, a solitary figure amidst the bustling bar, grappling with the sudden emptiness that enveloped him. As you disappeared into the night, the echoes of your decision lingered, leaving behind a void that neither time nor distance could easily fill. 

Like he was then, he was alone again. 

There were no more love songs to write.

After all, he doesn’t have a muse anymore.

IT WAS A HARD THING, POST BREAK UP. After months of deliberate distance, you had meticulously carved out a life without Geto Suguru—deleting social media, blocking his number, and meticulously avoiding any reminders of the past. It wasn't about erasing him; it was about finding clarity amidst the pain.

Yet, despite the space you sought, thoughts of him lingered, an unwelcome but constant presence in your thoughts. You hadn't wanted to discard everything you had shared—your friendship, the laughter, the late-night conversation. But the ache of heartache had necessitated the separation. And that separation, it was what you can’t do away with. Pain was always necessary to living. You can’t always be happy about things all the time.

Then came the unexpected twist: the news that you and Suguru were paired for the upcoming promotions of Jujutsu Kaisen Season 2. Your manager pitched an idea that made your heart sink and pulse race simultaneously—an appearance on a popular show where you both would participate in a "Truth or Drink" segment.

The proposition was daunting. The prospect of facing Suguru after all this time, under the scrutiny of cameras and questions designed to peel back layers you had painstakingly protected, left you torn. Part of you longed for closure, a chance to mend what had fractured. Another part feared reopening wounds that had barely begun to heal.

Deep down, you knew one thing: despite the pain, you still cared. You wanted to salvage what remained—a friendship built on shared dreams and mutual respect. The thought of facing him again, navigating the uncertain terrain of unspoken apologies and lingering affection, stirred a tumult of emotions.

As you mulled over the proposal, uncertainty clouded your judgment. Could this show be a bridge to reconciliation, a chance to mend fences and rediscover the camaraderie that had once defined your bond? Or would it unravel the fragile peace you had painstakingly cultivated in his absence?

With a sigh, you realized that regardless of the risks, the opportunity to reconnect, to confront the unresolved emotions that had tethered you to Suguru, was one you couldn't dismiss lightly. Whatever lay ahead, it was time to face the truth, whether through words spoken or drinks shared, in hopes of finding a way forward, together or apart.

You stared at the email on your screen, heart pounding with a mix of apprehension and curiosity. Your manager had just sent the proposal to Suguru's team, and surprisingly, he had accepted. A wave of emotions crashed over you—relief, nervousness, and a flicker of hope.

Days passed before the meeting was set in a quiet cafe near your house, chosen for its familiarity and the privacy it offered amidst the city's bustle. You after all preferred to live in a more down low neighborhood than most celebrities. You arrived early, hands trembling slightly as you waited, nerves building with each passing minute.

When Geto Suguru walked through the door, you felt your breath catch. He looked both familiar and distant, the lines of weariness etched deeper than you remembered. For a moment, neither of you spoke, the weight of unspoken words hanging heavy in the air.

He was still the man you loved and the man that broke your heart—he was everything to you and he was nothing all at once. And you wished, you wished you could decide what he was, truly.

Finally, Suguru broke the silence, his voice tentative yet determined. "Hey, doll." he murmured, sliding into the seat opposite you.

"Hi.” you replied softly, managing a small smile that didn't quite reach your eyes. Your nickname makes you feel weird all the sudden, after not hearing it for so long. “It’s nice to see you.”

He nodded back at you. The silence stretched between you, pregnant with unspoken apologies and lingering questions. Finally, Suguru cleared his throat, gaze searching yours with a mix of regret and longing. "I... I didn't expect us to meet like this, truly." he admitted, voice tinged with sincerity.

"Neither did I." you confessed, fingers tracing patterns on the tabletop. "But here we are."

Suguru nodded, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his features. "About that Youtube show... I didn't think you'd agree to it."

You exhaled slowly, the weight of your decision settling over you. "I... I think it could be good for us." you admitted, meeting his gaze with a mixture of vulnerability and determination. "To talk. To clear the air. There’s….a lot of misinformation.”

"I want that too," Suguru said quietly, his gaze meeting yours with a glimmer of hope tempered by caution. "To clear your name from all those nasty rumors, once and for all."

You couldn't help but feel a mix of surprise and gratitude at his words. The weight of the accusations that had circulated, tarnishing your reputation and testing your resilience, had been a burden you bore alone. To hear that one day, Suguru made the decision to take legal action against those responsible stirred a wave of emotions within you.

"I didn't think you'd sue those people." you admitted, your voice soft with both relief and lingering disbelief. The thought of confronting the falsehoods head-on had initially seemed daunting, even isolating, but knowing Suguru stood by you brought a renewed sense of strength.

Suguru reached across the table, his hand finding yours in a gesture that spoke volumes. "I couldn't stand by and watch you suffer, doll." he murmured, his gaze intense yet reassuring. "You deserve to be heard, to set the record straight."

His words resonated deep within you, a validation of your struggle and a beacon of support in the face of adversity. For the first time in months, you allowed yourself to believe that perhaps, together, you could navigate the storm that had threatened to tear you apart.

 "I've missed... talking to you." He admitted to you.

The admission hung between you, a fragile bridge over the chasm of hurt and regret that had kept you apart. For a moment, you both sat in companionable silence, the warmth of shared memories mingling with the uncertainty of what lay ahead.

"I've missed it too." you finally admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “More than you know.”

Silence engulfed you both for a moment, the weight of unspoken words and unresolved emotions lingering between you like a palpable presence. Suguru's question hung in the air, a tentative bridge over the divide that had grown between you.

"How have you been?" he asked softly, his voice carrying a mix of curiosity and genuine concern.

You took a deep breath, the question unraveling a floodgate of thoughts and feelings you had guarded so carefully. "It's been... challenging." you admitted finally, your gaze drifting to the tabletop as you searched for the right words. "Lonely, at times. But I've been trying to focus on moving forward."

Suguru nodded slowly, his expression reflecting a blend of understanding and regret. "I'm sorry, doll." he murmured, his voice tinged with remorse. "For everything."

The sincerity in his words touched a chord within you, a reminder of the bond you had once shared and the wounds that had driven you apart. "I know, Suguru." you replied softly, meeting his gaze with tenderness. "I've missed talking to you."

A flicker of relief crossed Suguru's features, his shoulders relaxing marginally. "I've missed it too." he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "It’s hard….not being able to talk to you.”

The admission hung between you, a fragile thread connecting past regrets to uncertain futures. In that moment, the bustling cafe seemed to fade away, leaving only the echo of shared memories and the tentative hope of reconciliation.

"I don't know where we go from here, after we do the show." you confessed, your voice tinged with uncertainty.

Suguru reached across the table once more, his hand finding yours with a gentle squeeze. "Maybe we start with honesty," he suggested quietly, his gaze unwavering. "And take it one step at a time."

You didn’t know what else to say to him.

But you think that you both long for the same things in life.

You wanted to stay in each other’s lives for as long as possible.

SO CAME THAT DAY. When you arrived in the studio, you didn’t know what you were going to do. But the more you think about him being there, being with you to hold your hand to talk you through it, the more you think that you might get somewhere.

You and Suguru sat across from each other, the sounds of music floating softly in the background. The line up of alcoholic beverages on the table along with shot glasses and a cup of soda for a chaser. The tension in the air was palpable, each of you unsure of what this conversation might reveal. 

Emotions churned beneath the surface, like a storm gathering strength, and the truths that might come out held the potential to either break or shatter what remained between you. Suguru and you wanted to be honest, to address things properly, but also to keep some boundaries intact. But then again, how could you, when it came to him? He was the love of your life. And you knew you were his. 

As you sat down, you smiled at him, a gesture that felt both familiar and foreign. He smiled back, as tenderly as he could, just as he always had. For a moment, you were transported back to a time when things were simpler, when the man sitting across from you was the one you fell in love with. His eyes held the same warmth, the same quiet intensity that had once captivated you.

"You know….I really don’t know what’s going to come out of this conversation between us." Suguru said, his voice trembling slightly. But he smiles, as though trying to comfort you too. “This is a new sort of conversation to have in front of the camera.”

You glanced at him, your own hands shaking. You laugh shakily. "Don’t worry. I feel that too. I don’t think that this is gonna be any easy for us.  I'm afraid it's going to be like..." You railed off, unable to finish the thought. “You know what, let that thought disappear.”

"Do you want to go... Yeah," he chuckled nervously. “Let it disappear with a drink.”

“Pour it down, Sugu!”

You watched Suguru take a deep breath, his hands steady as he poured the clear liquid into the small shot glasses lined up between you. The familiar scent of vodka filled the air, a sharp contrast to the subdued atmosphere that had settled over the table.

"You really went with vodka first?" you quipped lightly, a hint of amusement coloring your tone despite the nerves that fluttered in your stomach.

Suguru chuckled softly, the sound familiar and comforting. "It's the closest to grab!" he replied with a half-smile, his eyes meeting yours briefly before returning his attention to the task at hand.

A moment later, you both raised the glasses to your lips, the cool liquid burning slightly as it slid down your throat. The familiar warmth spread through you, a mixture of nerves and determination mingling in the shared ritual. As you set the empty glasses back on the table, a sense of tenderness settled between you. Liquid courage settled tremendously well.

"Here goes nothing, Sugu." you murmured, meeting Suguru's gaze with a mixture of apprehension and resolve.

"Nothing we can't handle, doll." he replied softly, his voice carrying a reassurance that eased the lingering doubts. 

You shake your head at him, as he smiles as you introduce yourself. "And I play his situationship in Jujutsu Kaisen." you said, breaking the ice. He laughs.

"And I'm Geto Suguru." he replied, smiling faintly. “I also play their situationship in Jujutsu Kaisen.”

"We used to date each other.” you continued, looking at him.

"Is dating the right word?" he asked, a hint of uncertainty in his voice.

"Yeah, I think it could be the right one." you nodded. "I mean, people who date also live together!" 

"For many happy years, I may add." he added, and you both laughed at the shared memory. “Those were the days.”

"I guess that's how we know each other. Then, we broke up a few months ago." You said, the laughter fading into a more somber mood. 

“That really killed the mood so fast in the studio!” Suguru laughs. “We are so sorry about that.”

“I feel like I need a penalty shot for that.” You laughed with him.

“Should I pour some whiskey for that?”

“Yeah, why not?” You say as you watched him pour the whiskey

"Okay," Suguru said, raising his glass. "Cheers."

“Cheers.” You clink your glass with his and you start drinking. 

It was your turn to pick up a flashcard, your fingers trembling slightly as you lifted it from the pile. Across the table, Suguru had already started sipping his chaser, a nervous habit that betrayed the gravity of the game you were about to play.

"Am I a better lover than who you're currently with?" you asked, your voice steady despite the sudden seriousness that settled over the conversation.

Suguru paused mid-sip, his expression shifting from casual to contemplative. "I'm not currently going out with anyone, that's for sure." he admitted quietly, setting down his glass. His gaze met yours, earnest and vulnerable. "And because of that, yes. You are a better lover. Probably always will be my best lover."

The honesty in his words took you aback, a mix of validation and melancholy washing over you. To hear Suguru acknowledge the depth of your connection, even amidst the uncertainties that had driven you apart, stirred a tumult of emotions within.

"I..." You faltered, unsure how to respond to such candid admission. The weight of his words hung between you, echoing the intensity that had defined your relationship. “That was not the answer I was expecting from you. I thought you were already dating.”

“I doubt that I could get over you very quickly.” Suguru sighs.

"Do you think they feel the same way?" a female staff voice interjected.

“Do you?” Suguru turned to look at you.

“Yeah.” You responded to him a moment later. “I’m also not seeing anyone, so…. I doubt that I could think anything of it.”

“If you were dating someone, would you feel like that too?” The staff once more interjected with a question.

You hummed. “I think…..probably. Suguru and I dated for a long time. And I was loved in ways that people can never even fathom. Only he has been able to do that.”

Suguru looked at you for a moment, as though he saw the universe in your eyes. He felt the heat pierce his cheek. “I think I need to get a drink on that.”

“Go for it.” You say, blushing just as equally bad. “I’ll drink with you.”

You both drink together, your eyes lowering at the intensity of his gaze. “You stare at me too much.”

"Can’t help it,” Suguru whispered, his voice a soft admission of vulnerability and lingering affection.

His eyes met yours briefly, a flicker of warmth passing between you before he glanced down at the flashcards scattered between you on the table. Each card held a potential truth, a shard of their past waiting to be explored.

“I guess it’s my turn,” he murmured, his fingers lingering over the cards as he chose one with a thoughtful deliberation.

As Suguru flipped over the card, you held your breath, uncertain of what awaited. The air in the cafe seemed charged with anticipation, the ambient sounds fading into a distant hum as he prepared to reveal the next piece of their shared story.

With a steadying breath, Suguru read aloud, his voice steady yet tinged with emotion. “Do you regret how things ended between us?”

“I do.” You responded to him, confidently. “I feel like I was an adult and I should have been able to be an adult in that situation with you. But instead, I acted like a child when I should have settled down too.”

“No, but I feel like I hold the most at fault for that.” Suguru says as he leaned forward, straightening his posture. “There was really no reason for me, even if I was stressed and exhausted, for me to have reacted to you that way.”

“You were exhausted that time too.” You smiled at him softly. “I don’t think I could hold it against you.”

“Just like I don’t hold it against you that you were exhausted waiting for me and trying for me to figure things out.” Suguru replied back. “You don’t deserve that and I’m glad you stood your ground and put yourself first when you needed to.”

“I was waiting for something like that from you.” You retorted back to him, your smile turning emotional. “I’m glad that you gave it to me.”

“I’m sorry it took me so long to say it.” His face softens, the hurt in his eyes palpable. 

You shook your head. “It’s alright, we’re alright.”

“It’s your turn.”

"Did you ever cheat on me, and if you did, what was the reason?” You read the card, looking at him. “Did you ever do it?”

"I've had some pretty solid opportunities, doll." he admitted to you. “But I never thought about it.”

"Is that a no?" You pressed.

"It’s a no.” He tells you, and you could see it in his eyes, he was honest. “I had you, doll. I don’t think I needed to have anyone else.”

You laughed. “Yeah, I guess you’re telling the truth.”

“How about you? Did you ever cheat on me?" Suguru asked, turning the question back on you.

"No. The fuck?" You replied, offended. He laughs. “I would never.”

“I really don’t think we had the energy to do something like that.”

You nodded, looking at the camera. “Our managers are behind the camera. When we tell you that our schedules were so packed….there wasn’t even room to pee!”

“I say that every time we have to do a reshoot because Satoru made a funny face.” Suguru added. “Gojo–kesa isn’t easy to remove everyone. Especially when you need to pee!”

“I think we got too far ahead of ourselves here.” You retorted as you drank your chaser. “That got me thirsty.”

“To everyone, we did not in fact cheat on each other.” Suguru makes an ‘x’ sign with his arms. “We broke up normally, like some couples do.”

"Let's keep going," You said with a laugh, trying to steer the conversation back to safer ground. 

"How long did it take you to get over us, and what did you do to help yourself get over it?" Suguru asked.

"I think I'm gonna take a drink." I said, dodging the question with a laugh. 

“It’s only been a few months, so I don’t think that’s an easy thing to answer.” He laughs with you.

“Yeah, you’re right about that one.” 

He winks at you. “I always am, doll.”

“My turn.” You say, picking up a card. "Do you think I'll be a great spouse?"

"Definitely." he said without hesitation, looking at you tenderly. "I wanted you to be mine, you know?"

"I know." You whispered, tears threatening to fall.

“Hey don’t cry now.”

“It’s the alcohol, don’t worry.”

"What was your least favorite thing I did to you in bed?" he asked.

"Well, my least favorite thing that you did to me in bed," You began, trying to keep my voice steady, "I think it's to not make love with me. You once slept on me before we could start something.”

"I can see that being your least favorite thing." Suguru snickered. 

You pointed to the camera. “Lesson 101 folks, tell your partner beforehand!”

"When did you know it was over?" He asked, taking his turn. 

"When your work and your friends become bigger than me." You said honestly. “I really didn’t know where we were and you kept telling me that it was fine and your friends told me it was fine. I think I was not understanding my place with you at the time.”

"Hmm. I didn't feel like all that became a priority. I think I was having a hard time trying to understand how to slow down from the work that was my life." He explained to you, as you nodded. "You know? And that was my fault. I feel like that community I had understood that and didn’t question it.”

“But that needed to be questioned.”

“Yeah, because it affected what we had. And that wasn’t fair to you.”

You nodded in surrender. “Yeah, that was it.”

"I'm sorry for all of it, doll." He whispered back to you. “That it hurt you.”

“It’s all in the past.” You whispered to him. 

"If you could erase every thought of me, would you?" you asked, your voice breaking.

"Fuck, no! There would be nothing to feel pleasure about at night.” He joked, trying to lighten the mood. You smacked his hand, laughing so hard. “I’m sorry, that was a crude joke.”

"No, that's okay.” You whispered back at him, laughter subsiding. “That makes me feel really good about myself, actually.”

"It should make you feel beautiful, doll. All the expensive towels at home die because of you.” he teased.

"Alright, I'm gonna forget the towel thing now." you said, rolling your eyes as you tried not to laugh. "Why do I keep getting these cards? I dare you to take a body shot off me, or you have to take two shots."

"Was it two shots?" he asked.

"Yeah, it was two shots for you, Sugu." you confirmed.

“Okay, I’ll take the shots.” Suguru says as he gritted his teeth, pouring whiskey on two shot glasses. “This is not a good think for me later.”

“He still has to record a song later.” You say, laughing as he puts the bottle back and starts taking a shot. “I feel like you’d do fine though. You aren’t that much of a light weight.”

“I think so, but it would be emotional in the booth.”

“Oh then, cry it out!”

"This is a good question!" Suguru said, holding up a card for his turn. "If you could do it over again, what would you change?"

"I don't think I'd change anything, for our previous relationship.” You tell him honestly. “I think it ended when it needed to.”

“Yeah.”

“But I’m not putting the door to a close yet, I don’t know what would happen.” You whispered back at him with a soft smile. “But given the chance, similar to the question, how would you make it better?”

"I would put in more time, doll." he admitted to you. “I think I’d put you as my priority and what future we have together first.”

"That would be cool.” You said softly.

"I fucked up." he sighed, looking at you softly.

"Would you do it again?" You asked, your heart in your throat. “Would you take another shot at it, Sugu?”

"You know the answer, doll." he said, avoiding my gaze. He picks up another card. "Do you still love me?"

"Yeah. Yeah. Of course." You said, your voice trembling as you smiled. Your eyes water with emotion. "I think I always will.”

“I guess I’m the love of your life, huh?”

“You know that already.” You sniff, laughing.

“That I do.”

“Are you happy with our current relationship?" You asked him, turning to him as he slowly smiles.

"Doll, are you happy with everything right now?" he countered.

“With all that’s going on in my life?” He nodded at you. “Yeah, I’m happy. Some days are bad, but you know….I’m happy. You taught me how.”

"Good.”

“Huh?”

 “Then the answer is yes." Suguru smiles at you, with that same smile that made you fall in love with him in the first place. “I’m happy.”

"Really?” You were taken aback, smiling as your face wells in your tears. “I don’t know what to say, Sugu.”

"You don’t have to say anything.” He whispers, leaning forward as he wipes your tears away. “As long as you’re happy. It’s more than enough for me to be happy too.”

"I wished that would have been enough, when we were together.” You whispered back to him. “I would have loved to hear that from you.”

"I know.” He smiles at you, pained. “I wish I could tell you more.”

"'I wanted to be with you for a long time." You admit to him, tears flowing more. He wipes them all away. “I really thought I would end up having forever with you.”

"Do you think your past break up has had closure, you two?" the staff’s voice asked, cutting through the emotional moment.

“I don’t think there’s ever going to be closure between the two of us.” You admit to them, almost as though it was a fact. “He’s my person, you know? I think the fact that we’re not together, it just…it's hard to know how there could be anything, but pining.”

“How about you, Suguru?”

"I think about them often and it hurts knowing that we're not going to have any closure.” He whispers as he too starts feeling his eyes sting with tears. He takes your hand into his and you squeeze back.

“You know, when the future changes everything so fast. And I just don’t know what to do, because they’ll always be my muse. And I’ll think about all these years, wondering whatever happened to the love of my life.”

He wipes his tears. “Fuck, I can’t see anything with these tears.”

"Hey, you wanna wipe our tears away with alcohol?" you suggested, attempting a smile through the lingering pain that tugged at your heart.

Suguru looked at you, his eyes softening as he nodded. "Yeah, let's go." 

He pours the drinks and raises his shot glass, his faint smile touching his lips. "I don’t know what will happen in the future, but I am genuinely so lucky to have you in my life and I am so very lucky to have you as my muse. I hope you have nothing but happiness, love and joy, doll, my love.” 

"Cheers, Sugu." You said softly, lifting my glass and clinking it against his.

"Cheers, doll." Suguru echoed as he downs his.

The sound of applause from the crew and staff filling the room as you both toasted farewell to your shared past and a hello to your uncertain future. The weight of our emotions mingled with the bittersweet taste of the drink, of the complexities of love and the resilience of the human spirit.

You smiled at him as you stood up from your own chair, being handed your bouquet of sunflowers — your favorite as you were thanked by everyone.  And Suguru, being thanked by the other staff for his hard work with his own bouquet.

After the taping concluded, Suguru and you met at the lobby of the studio. The staff had already gone and left and your managers were waiting for your drivers outside. The atmosphere is still buzzing with the energy of the show and the lingering emotions from your candid revelations. You exchanged tentative smiles, a mixture of relief and uncertainty evident in your eyes.

"I'm glad we did this, doll." Suguru admitted softly, his voice carrying a hint of vulnerability. "I feel... I feel like this is the happiest I've been in a long time, just being here with you."

A warmth spread through your chest at his words.. "I feel the same, Sugu.” You confessed, meeting his gaze with a sincerity that echoed through the quiet lobby. “It was…..something that relieved me.”

The two of you stood there for a moment, the weight of unspoken words hanging between the two of you, until Suguru broke the silence with a gentle smile. "Well, I have a recording session to get to, doll." he said, his tone tinged with regret. "But I wanted to say... I wish you all the luck in the world with everything, you know?"

You nodded, feeling a lump form in your throat as you struggled to find the right words. "Thank you." You finally managed, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. 

As Suguru turned to leave, a thought seemed to strike him, hesitating for a moment before he looked back at you with a hopeful expression. "Hey, are you free to hang out on Friday?" he asked, his voice quietly hopeful.

You couldn't help but return his smile, the warmth spreading through you once more. "Yeah, Sugu." You replied softly, the weight of uncertainty lifting slightly.  “I am."

Relief washed over Suguru's features, a genuine happiness coloring his expression as he nodded. "Great," he said, his voice filled with quiet excitement. "I'll... I'll text you the details.”

"Is your number still the same?" You asked, a mix of nervousness and hope in your voice as Suguru paused, turning back towards you.

"Yeah, I never changed it," he whispered softly, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Did... you?"

"No," You replied, relief flooding through him as you returned his smile. "I didn't."

"Great," Suguru nodded, his expression almost visibly lighter with relief. "I'll just... text you."

With that, he turned again, his steps echoing softly on the polished floor as he made his way towards the exit. You watched him go, feeling a surge of gratitude and anticipation welling up within me. The weight that had pressed on your heart for so long seemed to lift, replaced by some hope.

As Suguru disappeared from view, You couldn't suppress the smile that spread across your face. The promise of a future, uncertain yet filled with hope, stretched out before you, the both of you. And as you stood there, in the quiet of the studio lobby, you knew that whatever came next, you both had taken a small but significant step to take.

Maybe one day there will be more than this.

But for now, you were grateful for this moment.

You were grateful to have another chance to joy.

[bluedandylyon]

Rewatch Rambles (TM) - Season 1

Sword pt. 1 The show both starts and ends with Adora getting ready for the day.

Side note: Oh god look at my exhausted grown-up scrunkle. The changes in how they animate the chars to show them growing up are subtle but really apparent when u put them side by side.

I'm not going to talk about the locker scene bc I already have done an extensive analysis of it here but yeah that scene is incredible visual storytelling.

There is one thing I didn't comment there though, which is Catra's reaction to Adora calling her disrespectful and just A U G H look at this face please

Catra's genuinely so hurt like "is that what you think of me?" :(

Also Catra is legit so touchy with Adora, there’s like 30 seconds of the episode where she’s not touching her and it's cuz she's rightfully angry at Adora calling her disrespectful to excuse SW's abuse. Girlie looks for ANY excuse to touch oh my god. And she barely reacts to when Adora puts a hand over her mouth to prevent the patrol bot from noticing them. Like she really is SO comfortable around Adora, she completely trusts her.

Like she's a little annoyed and confused about it, but the fact that she trusts Adora enough to do things like this is NUTS, especially with how touch-averse she is with other people. And then the gentle chest touch. PLEEK, my blorbo looks for any excuse to touch Adora asjkhdjks.

Actually on that note I'm starting a straddling/pin-down counter on this rewatch. This episode has two so SC = 2

Oh god, going back to Adora sneaking out, she says one thing of like “I want to check this thing out, it feels important to me” and Catra is I M M E D I A T E L Y like “yep whatever is important to you is important to me, let’s go check it out”

and Adora, because she knows how much Catra gets in trouble for like, existing, tells her to not go with her so Catra doesn’t get in trouble due to her. But like no matter what she does, Catra WILL get in trouble. She would actually get in less trouble by going with her but Adora think she’s protecting her NGHHHHH I WANT TO BITE MY ARM OFF AND THEN ADORA GIVES CATRA THE REASSURING SHOULDER TOUCH (™) to get her to stay. 

And you can tell how hurt Catra is by Adora making that decision for her bc again, she feels that condescension. Everybody sing with me 🎵 it's the catradora miscommunication special 🎵

I LOVE how they show the difference in the rebellion and the horde by making Bow and Glimmer kind of incompetent in the fight against Adora. Bc the horde is literally an army that trains children to be soldiers, whereas the rebellion is fighting out of necessity and don’t necessarily have formal training. It makes sense Hordak knows how to train cadets bc of how many planets he helped conquer. 

Like these children just YELL LMFAO

Also I always forget that Bow straight up does not trust Glimmer’s judgment during the first season-ish and he’s like actually passive aggressive to her, esp first few eps.

Anyway that's the first episode, this is going to take forever but I am enjoying myself.

[variousqueerthings]

some favourite random things about ray vecchio, now ive finished the rewatch!

Goodbye Ray Vecchio, am now firmly and entirely in season 3, so will give a little list as a "oh boy this character scratched an itch" type of farewell. so. some stuff

will begin with something that @gjdraws also pointed out to me -- he's got style. he's sartorial. he likes nice clothes, both in s1 and s2, but he grows up a bit in the latter, which, usually I'd call a downgrade -- fancy patterned silk shirts for turtlenecks and muted colours? but it totally works, it works with the haircut (embrace the baldness!) it works with leaning into the character's serious side more often, it works as a development of who Ray is when we first meet him (a bit insecure, job on the rocks, holding on to his past self and not knowing where to go, pretending his just a silly guy no ignore all the tragic backstory lookat my amazing Gonzo shirt!) to where he goes (more settled in himself, more confident, allowing some of the more melancholy elements to seep through, a bit more serious on the whole), also, look... they're both giving me transmasc swag. it's just overall a super developed sense of Style. Ray likes looking good and he likes good textures. GJ put it as: Sartorial Baby

in the middle of plot will be doing unrelated tasks for fraser, simply because he was asked if he could help. he doesn't make a big deal of doing these things, this is simply what he does (notable examples, the wolf pass in diefenbaker's day off, the search for glendorlan scotch in some like it red)

spends an incredible amount of time trying to help fraser stand up for himself/become more comfortable with interpersonal conflict, but will also take over when fraser struggles (notable examples, vault, the promise, one good man, red white or blue)

every once in awhile you'll get an almost casual tidbit of some of the most tragic backstory and ray will basically go "anyway we don't have time for that, im just a guy" and the story will move on (notable examples, the pilot, gift of the wheelman, north, we are the eggmen, exceptions, the duel and juliet is bleeding in which we don't move on and just scream instead)

on that note, is really strongly hinted to have family history with the mob and crime, which adds such a layer to his joining the police force and his initial friendship with- and then disgust for- zuko, and his going undercover in the mob (his father seems to have been more of a petty criminal, but there's enough to infer there's some ties there, and then there's uncle lorenzo. also ray's tendency to "know a guy who knows a guy" that sometimes seems to be adjacent to legality, and the fact that his father didn't want him to be a cop)

seems to have been a hit with the girls back when he was a teen/young adult (which, yeah, i get it, ive seen young david marciano and ray has real charm to boot) (notable examples, juliet is bleeding, one good man, some like it red)

likes inserting random fancy words and phrases into conversation on occasion (notable examples: "chagrin" in free willy, "grand jeté" twice in mask, obvs the famous "Jai Nai Sai Qua" pronunciation in a cop a mountie and a baby)

believes in luck charms and signs (notable examples, we are the eggmen, body language)

takes on a caregiving role and it's hinted he's probably done that since childhood and isn't good at putting that down/letting himself be cared for in turn (obvs The Pilot, every single thing he does for Fraser all the time, i think also it's shown with Frannie, albeit more abrasively, esp Heaven and Earth and his concern for her in Vault and for the whole family in The Duel -- vice versa I think it's more subtle and often framed through his dad putting him down, for example in Gift Of The Wheelman and North, and through his Frank and Irene Zuko backstory in The Deal and Juliet... also there's Witness when he gets beat up in jail, that whole episode revolves in my brain)

on that note, @gjdraws also brought up how he needs to do things for someone when he's upset for them or he'll go absolutely crazy. the way he is in The Pilot with Fraser, and the amazing The Deal "can I get you a coffee" sequence and the entirety of Bird In The Hand really spring to mind

all the times this man has had to take care of a severely hurt fraser!!!!!! emotionally and physically!!!!!!!!! The Pilot, Manhunt, The Wild Bunch, The Blue Line, The Deal, Letting Go, North, Bird In The Hand, One Good Man, Flashback some of the big ones...

I really like his relationship with his family -- I'd want to explore it even more, but I think his canonical protective softness with his mother, and the much more abrasive sibling relationship with Frannie that is still ultimately based in love, but also I think comes a bit from them being quite similar in a lot of ways in terms of the world beating up on them quite a bit... there's so much there to unpack (the house they all live in!! i wish we knew more about his youngest sister as well)

another @gjdraws addition: his love for the riv, and the riv's love for him. the subtext of the riv itself being a form of magic -- loses one and another riv appears to find him

[supernovafics]

𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐀𝐁𝐋𝐄

"i'll be there for you" universe masterlist

pairing: bestfriend!roommate!steve harrington x fem!reader

word count: 3.2k words

warnings: explicit language, some mentions of alcohol, parent drama (both reader’s and steve’s parents suck)

summary: in which your parents and steve’s come over for dinner 

author's note: this has absolutely nothing to do with the harry styles song but the title of it is just very fitting so yeah<33 i’ve been rewatching a lot of gilmore girls this fall season so i feel like that's helped me get the hang of writing awkward/tense dinners with family lol so this needed to be done

general note: everything in this universe/series can be read as standalone oneshots but to understand the full “lore” it would prob be best to read the other stuff too<333

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Fall 1985

When your and Steve’s parents first suggested this “early Thanksgiving dinner,” you thought that it wouldn’t actually happen. 

The initial idea sounded pretty funny to you— your parents and Steve’s parents would have a full on dinner at your apartment a week before the actual holiday. Yeah, right.

It sounded like the kind of idea that parents that really cared about spending time with their children would have, and that wasn’t how you’d necessarily describe yours or Steve’s. 

A month ago, when they told you about the ski trip the four of them were going on during the entire week of Thanksgiving, you expected to just not see them probably until Christmas— and that felt like a bit of relief to you because spending time with your parents wasn’t your favorite hobby.  

But then you remembered how, only during the holidays, your parents always had a need to show, or maybe more so “prove” to themselves, that they actually cared about you. So, of course, they wouldn’t let this stupid holiday go, and instead they thought that it would be best if you all did something early and together. 

And sadly, none of the immediate excuses that you and Steve came up with worked because your moms had solutions for everything.

When you told yours that the kitchen in the apartment was too small to cook for this kind of elaborate dinner, she simply told you that they’d buy and bring all of the food and you and Steve wouldn’t have to cook at all. She also not-so-jokingly mentioned that she would’ve never trusted either of you two cooking anyway.

And when Steve told his mom that the current dining table you two had was way too small to fit all six of you, she promptly had one ordered and delivered to your door in just a week. It was an expensive dark wood set that could comfortably fit six people, and you and Steve spent hours struggling to build it the day it showed up at your front door. It took up an obscene amount of space, but it did actually look kind of nice.

Now it was weeks later and the dreaded night was finally here, but you still tried to come up with any way to avoid it from happening. 

“And we’re sure that we really can’t get out of doing this tonight?” You asked Steve as you folded the blanket that was lying half-hazardly on the couch. “I could call my mom and say that we’ve somehow fallen tragically ill in the last hour?”

“I’m ninety-five percent sure that they’re all already on their way.”

“Shit.”

“It’ll be fine,” Steve said, and then he considered his words. “Actually, it will probably suck, but overall, we will be fine.” 

You let out a sigh and placed the now folded blanket back on the couch and then started cleaning off the coffee table, stacking the random magazines in a neat pile and then adjusting Harold’s cage so that it was nicely in the center. Your and Steve’s shared pet hamster was currently nibbling on the food that you had put in his bowl only moments ago. 

An abrupt feeling of worry shot through you as you looked around the apartment. The place was clean— probably the cleanest it had ever been— since you and Steve had spent the day doing everything to avoid either of your parents saying anything bad about the place. However, in the grand scheme of things, you knew that it didn’t matter because they’d still hate the apartment. They would hate how you two decided to furnish and decorate it, and they would passive aggressively make fun of the place for however long this dinner would have to be.

“Let’s try not to think about how bad this night is gonna be and just be glad that we’re not gonna have to suffer alone, like usual,” Steve said, practically reading your mind and the look on your face, as he started setting plates out on the new table. 

He was completely right. This was the first time that a collective Thanksgiving was happening among all of you. Usually, it was just you alone with your parents in Chicago visiting family members that you never talked to, and Steve was doing the same exact thing except he was in Indianapolis. You’d always end up calling each other at the end of the night from the hotel or family house you were staying at, and you’d tell each other stories about whatever weird family members you encountered or how boring it all was. 

It did make things feel a bit better that, for once, you didn’t have to go through this alone and neither did Steve.

“You’re right,” You said with a nod and then smiled. “We’ll be going through this shitshow together.”

As if on cue, there was a knock at the door and since Steve was closer he went to answer it. You took one brief and final look around the apartment before heading toward the door too, so Steve didn’t have to be by himself in this greeting.

“Hi,” He said when he opened the door and saw all of your parents standing there. There was a bright smile on his face and he effortlessly turned on that “Steve Harrington charm” that people had adored in high school— you hadn’t even gone to the same high school as him, but you still heard so many of the stories.

A chorus of Hi’s and Hello’s were heard as your moms entered the apartment first since they were carrying all of the food and your dads followed in right behind them.

“I still hate that you moved into a place that doesn’t have a front doorman, or, at least, a buzzer system,” Were your dad’s first words to you; deciding against saying the simple “How are you?” that you had expected. “You two should get a better lock on your door.”

You laughed a bit. “We live in Hawkins, not New York, Dad. I don’t think anyone is really itching to rob us anytime soon.” 

“Anything can happen,” He responded, looking at you seriously. “I’ll bring you a new one when we get back from Colorado.”

You only nodded at his words instead of saying anything to rebut them; you knew that he overall meant well. “Okay.”

Your attention turned to your mom and she pulled you into a hug that felt way too forced before pulling away and giving you a quick onceover. “Oh… Is that what you’re wearing?”

You thought that your outfit was fine; a V-neck navy blue knit sweater that was a bit cropped and a simple pair of black jeans. But, your mom always managed to find something wrong with everything, so this reaction to your current outfit didn’t necessarily surprise you; it did still annoy you all the same, though.

“Oh, um, no I was just about to change,” You told her and forced a small smile.

She nodded at that. “Okay, that’s good, that’s good. You go change while Christine and I get the table set up.”

You started heading toward your room but looked back at Steve first. He was in a conversation with his parents that looked like they were doing much more of the talking than him. As if sensing your gaze on him, his eyes met yours and he gave you a hopeful look and that was enough to make you feel a little better.

It didn’t take long for you to change. You kept your sweater on but traded your jeans for the long black silk skirt that your mom had always liked on you. You hoped this slightly different outfit would be enough to satisfy her, and if not, you were willing to suffer through her inevitable look of disappointment. 

You lingered in your room, tidying up your desk for no particular reason and then deciding to remake your bed. It was clear that you were stalling, avoiding having to face your parents again, and as much as you wanted to continue doing that, you also didn’t want to leave Steve to fend for himself. You were supposed to be suffering together, after all. 

You immediately noticed the dining table when you walked out of your bedroom. The food was now nicely set out and there were even brown placemats sitting underneath the plates that Steve had already set out. It was all set up in a way that would’ve felt nice and wholesome if either of your families had ever remotely felt like the ones portrayed in most TV shows or movies. But, they weren’t anywhere close to being like that, so this all just felt weirdly forced.

Of course, you didn’t say that, though.

Instead, you sat down with everyone at the table and desperately hoped that the next few hours of your life would breeze by. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“From the brochure, the pictures of the cabin look really great. We hope it actually looks that way in person,” Steve’s mom, Christine, said. 

You took another bite of the mac and cheese on your plate as you continued to listen to your parents talk about their ski trip that was happening next week, which they had been doing for the last twenty minutes and you fully didn’t mind it. Since the conversation wasn’t centered on either you or Steve, things actually didn’t feel tense or nervewracking. If you could just make your parents talk about themselves during the entire dinner, you would probably end the night with a smile on your face. 

“Oh, and there are a lot of bedrooms too,” Your mom chimed in before taking another sip from the wine glass in her hand. “Maybe you two could take a trip up there soon and invite your friends to go too.” 

“Yeah, that would be nice,” You said with a small nod.

“Enough talking about the trip, though, that’s probably so boring for your kids to hear about,” Your dad said, and you internally sighed because you knew the exact direction the conversation was about to go in. You felt him look at you. “How’s school been going? The semester is almost over.”

“It’s been good,” You answered, keeping your response short and sweet. You decided not to mention that you really couldn’t care less about the majority of your classes because none of what you were doing in any of them felt like it really mattered. 

“Okay, and your grades and everything are fine, right?”

You only nodded in response to his question, hoping that your lack of actual words would signal to him that you wanted to bring an end to this topic of conversation. Of course, that was only wishful thinking.

“That’s good,” Your mom said. “You have to make sure your grades stay like how they were in high school, or even better, for when you transfer to the University of Chicago. We don’t want to have any reason for them not to accept you again.” 

You suddenly felt like you were right back in middle school and high school, where your conversations with your parents solely revolved around school; what your grades were, if you were doing your homework and completing assignments on time, and studying for tests. It always annoyed you that the only times they would bother to pay attention to you was when it came to that stuff. Other than that, you were always seemingly an afterthought, never a bigger priority than their jobs. 

In a way, this entire conversation should’ve been expected; it was always inevitable. Pretty much anytime you talked to your parents in recent months, the discussion always seemed to circle its way back to that school and you going there in two years instead of right now, like they had wanted you to.

“I’m still so surprised that you decided to not go to the University of Chicago now,” Christine said and you turned your attention to her. It was starting to feel a bit painful to you that the subject still hadn’t changed yet. “When Steve told me that you were going to go to the community college close by, I couldn’t believe it, honestly.”

You noticed your parents share a look upon hearing her words. The mix of disappointment and annoyance toward you that was shared between them in that moment felt palpable. 

“I didn’t think it was time to leave Indiana just yet. I’ll be going soon, though,” You said, keeping your voice light and plastering on a fake smile, even though all you wanted to do in that moment was leave the table and hideout in your bathroom for the rest of the night. 

You saw your dad smile a little and then you also noticed the look of relief wash over your mom’s face. For some stupid reason, you still felt the need to make them feel pleased with you. And somehow that made you feel even more upset with yourself than anything they had said to you so far tonight. 

The only thing that managed to make things feel remotely tolerable right then was Steve sitting across from you, giving you a look that said, “Everything will be okay.” For the time being, you chose to believe him and you simply took another bite of your food. 

You were about to say something about how good the turkey was so your moms would start talking about the restaurant they got all of the food from and why they chose it— you were sure that there was some story behind it all— and that would finally bring an end to the college conversation. But, before a word could leave your mouth, Steve’s dad began speaking. 

“Well, at least, you’re in college. We can’t say the same for Steve here.” He then looked at his son. “Do you really want to work at a video store for the rest of your life?”

 Christine let out a sigh. “Jeff.”

“What?” He shrugged as if his previous question wasn’t completely condescending. “I’m just asking a question.”

“I’m actually starting at the community college next semester,” Steve told his parents and you tried to hide your immediate confusion. “I found out I got in a few days ago.”

“Well, that’s great,” Christine said happily, and Jeff smiled approvingly as well. 

You had no idea Steve had gotten in or even applied, and you wondered if he was lying right then to just get his parents off his back, but you couldn’t tell. Something about the way he said it honestly felt pretty real. The only part that didn’t feel real was that you were finding out during this dumb dinner instead of at any other time. 

“So, I was wondering,” Your mom began and you braced yourself for the impact of whatever she was going to say. “Why did you two decide to get a hamster? I feel like it makes things smell a bit funny in here…”

A part of you was glad that the conversation finally shifted away from college. But you didn’t think that the passive aggressive comments toward the apartment would begin with Harold. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“Well, this night was fucking brutal.”

You let out a sigh. “You took the words right out of my mouth.”

Steve was doing the dishes as you put what was left of the food into tupperwares and then put them in the fridge. Surprisingly, it was a lot of stuff leftover; your moms definitely went overboard with the amount they had ordered. You and Steve already made plans to invite Robin and Eddie over tomorrow to have some of these leftovers.

“I’m actually glad that the dessert tasted bad since it made them want to leave early.”

“It was honestly a bit bittersweet because I was kind of excited for that pie,” You said as you placed the final tupperware of food into the fridge and then went over to Steve. “Oh, and also,” You punched his arm and ignored his immediate “ouch.” “Why the hell didn’t you tell me that the stars have finally managed to align and we’ll finally be going to the same school for the first time ever?”

He smiled a little at your dramatics. “I didn’t wanna make a big deal out of it just in case I somehow didn’t end up getting in. I swear I was gonna tell you tomorrow.”

“So, you did all of that annoying application stuff by yourself?”

“Robin helped me with it.”

“I would’ve been happy to help you,” You told him, and maybe you were being a bit overdramatic, but you actually felt slightly offended that he hadn’t wanted to come to you about this. 

The possibility of you two going to the same middle or high school was a far out idea that never happened because you lived in different towns. But, it was still something that was adamantly and wistfully talked about by you and him; how much more fun both of your school lives could be if they intersected in that way like the other parts of your lives did. 

Of course, going to the same college would’ve been the most obvious way for it to finally happen, but Steve never seemed that interested in going to college, and up until the last possible second you were being pushed toward Chicago by your parents. 

But now things were finally different.

“I know that you would’ve, but I didn’t want to talk about it to anyone, honestly. Robin saw me working on the application one day and decided to help,” He explained and you only gave him a small nod in response. “I didn’t even think I’d tell my parents about it, but when I heard my dad’s dumb comment about Family Video I felt like I had to say it so he wouldn’t keep looking at me like a disappointment.” He sighed. “And it’s kinda fucked up… I really don’t wanna care what my parents think about me and what I’m doing with my life, but I think there will always be a part of me that does.”

You thought back to your dad’s approving smile and your mom’s relieved look when you reassured them that you still planned to go to the University of Chicago; how much you still wanted to make them feel at least a little proud of you even though you knew you shouldn’t.

“Me too,” You said softly. 

“I’m glad we probably won’t have to see them again until Christmas.”

You sighed. “Apparently, my dad is gonna bring us a new lock for the door when they get back from their trip.”

“Oh,” Steve said and then smiled at you when it looked like he thought of something. “Okay, what are the odds that he’ll just send someone to put the new lock on the door instead of coming himself?”

You thought about it for a second. “Honestly, I’d say there’s a pretty good chance that would happen. He’ll probably be too busy with work after the trip to actually come and do it himself.”

“Okay, let’s hope for that,” He said as he finished washing the last plate and placed it on the drying rack. “So, since the dessert was a bust tonight, do you wanna go to the diner? I’m sure Mary would never fuck up her apple pie. And then when we get back, we can finish that bottle of wine that our moms left.”

You smiled at his suggestion. “You have a brilliant mind, Harrington.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

let me know ur thoughts<333

(requests are open for stuff you wanna see in the universe/series!🫶🏾)

[nipuni]

OHHHHHHHHH MY GOD ARE YOU KIDDING ME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I'LL NEVER BE THE SAME AFTER THIS!!!!!! THIS ENDING?? THIS WHOLE EVERYTHING!!!!! WHERE DO I EVEN START I'M SO STUNNED!!!! WHAT!!!!!

"The end of time" was the most incredible ending I could have asked for!!! We finished watching it all at 3am last night and we spent all of today yelling about it, I can't believe just how good this was!!! I'm so glad we've never watched this show before while this was airing so that we get to watch it all fresh for the first time because we are having the time of our lives now

It was completely devastating and so so inspiring, just exactly how I was hoping for it to be, I already want to rewatch S1 to S4 all over again 😭 the sheer comfort I get from the character of the doctor is insane, I've never rooted for a character so hard and wholeheartedly in my life, he really is the most wonderful being in the universe I'm in tears I'm Wilfred rn what the fuck man I'll never recover from this!!! I feel like a ten year old kid with a new superhero GOD IT WAS ALL SO GOOD I CAN'T ARTICULATE I'd yell about each scene but I'm aware that pretty much everyone has watched this ages ago so you know and I still wouldn't want to spoil anyone that hasn't just in case because going into this unspoiled and knowing nothing about it has been the most satisfying experience ever and I hope more people get to have it too!!! please if you haven't watched this before go do that!! and if you have and it's been a while do it again!!! the acting?? INSANE!! the writing!! incredible!! I have only good things to say!!! I only wish we had 1000 more seasons with RTD and David Tennant I really love this man, I'm so sad to see him go!!! and so happy to get him back for the 60 special!!

When we got to the last episodes of season 4 I was expecting pain and instead I got an unexpected fix-it device that was rather strange but cute so I was somewhat relieved and confused, then the holidays specials were pretty standard and lighthearted AND THEN THE WATERS OF MARS? INSANE EPISODE, I loved it so much, that whole part at the end FANTASTIC they went there and I LOVE them for it!! another favourite episode for sure, and THEN THE END OF TIME?? by this point Nicolas and I were twisted into a single pretzel on the couch bracing ourselves, it went from extremely intense to SO FUNNY to heartbreaking and just...amazing!!! AAAAAA anyway!! I had to get all that out of my system, now onwards to S5!!! I'm curious to meet Matt Smith's doctor 😊

[starhvney]

um.... what if gene x fem reader that got stuck during the starlight ultima incident with his friends 🥹 what's he feelin... what if they reunited..

Sorry if this is cringe 🙏

𝐘𝐎𝐔'𝐑𝐄 𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐕𝐄

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: mystreet gene x fem!reader

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: gene and the rest of his trio made it to starlight, but as soon as they arrive, they’re told they’re trapped on the island. amid the chaos, gene finally finds you, only for you to be ripped away from him once again

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒: angst, hurt/comfort, zenix being slow(in the head), lowkey wingwoman sasha, gene crying and whimpering >:), could be seen as slightly ooc but i traumatized him for the plot so :3 oopsi!

𝐂𝐖: mentions of character death and violence, getting shot

𝐀/𝐍: did someone order a gene fic, extra angst? i haven’t caught up on rewatching the later seasons of mystreet, so i’m sorry for any inaccuracies in the lore! anyways another gene banger had to do it to em

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

it had happened so quickly. one moment, his eyes had landed on yours, the corners of his lips raising as he started to walk towards you. it had been too long since he’d seen you, and he couldn’t help the almost childish excitement he felt in his stomach. his mouth had only barely opened as he was about to call your name, when he realized the panicked expression on your face, your head shaking at him to stop. it stopped him in his tracks, the way your eyebrows were pinched together and your eyes were wide in… what was it? shock? fear? 

it was then he realized people were shouting and pointing in your direction, drawing the attention of some nearby soldiers. the ones who trapped everyone in here in this big mess.

“isn’t she one of the ones with the ultima?”

“right here! guards!”

then it was chaos. the crowd around him screamed and pushed him further away from you as armed men swarmed the area. he had started to push back, confused and dazed as he finally caught a glimpse of you again, running in the opposite direction.

then there was a loud popping noise, one that echoed across the plaza, and he watched your body drop and disappear amongst the crowd. loud, panicked screams sounded muffled in his ears as he stumbled back, the blood in his face draining.

why was his vision blurry? where was he again? 

he couldn’t breathe. he can’t breathe.

familiar hands pull him out of the crushing pushes of the crowd, keeping him upright as he gasps for air. when did his ears start ringing?

“gene! gene! come on man, let’s go, we need to get back to the room.” he’s finally able to focus on a voice, his normally narrowed blue eyes blown wide in shock.

zenix felt disturbed, looking at the state of gene in that moment. he had never seen his friend like that, his mouth was agape in shock, chest hitching unevenly as gene’s glazed over eyes looked straight through him like he wasn’t even there.

“what happened…?” he trails, before shaking his head and dragging his paralyzed friend through the crowd. “come on, sasha is back towards the condo. she’ll be worried.”

it was a blur, the next week. the guardian forces sent out a curfew, only letting people out of their rented residences if they were getting food or necessities and arresting anyone they deemed “suspicious”. he couldn’t sleep, eye bags darker than usual and skin gaunt from exhaustion.

anytime he closed his eyes he saw your face, his heart twisting at how anxious you had looked in that moment. were you able to get away? or did you bleed out on the concrete, losing consciousness as the crowd kicked sand in your face? was it instant instead, sparing you the suffering and pain? what if he was able to make it to you before you were shot, could you be here with him right now?

regret ate him alive, every moment he had spent with you replaying like a movie. your smile when you’d lock eyes with him. your eyes when you were talking about the things you liked. how he had hesitated telling you how his heart sped up when he was around you, knowing you would be leaving on vacation. what if he told you, that day?

a faint but rapid knock interrupted his thoughts, his eyes darting up to meet the wary looks of sasha and zenix. After a moment of contemplation, he gets up slowly, approaching the door and grabbing a kitchen knife from the counter. it doesn’t matter if it was the soldier who fired the shot at you or not, his jaw clenched as he hardened his resolve to plunge the object right into the throat of…

just as you were anxiously questioning if you got the condo number right, the door in front of you slightly opened, revealing the man that you had been looking for. a second passes as he stares at you, dull blue eyes boring into yours with an unreadable emotion in them. you hear something metallic drop to the tiled floor behind him, tearing your attention away from him for a split moment.

before you can say anything his hand reaches out, grasping onto your hoodie and yanking you into the room with unexpected force. shaky arms wrap around you, tight enough to almost be near painful. you register the door shutting behind you, but your focus falls on gene’s hitched breaths hitting your ear, his body feeling slightly weaker and thinner than you remember.

“who…? oh shit, she’s alive.”

zenix’s voice disappears as soon as it had appeared as sasha dragged him into another room, her voice hushed and muffled.

“gene…” you cautiously call out, earning you another tight squeeze.

your feet drag as his back hits the wall, sliding to the floor and taking you down with him. his legs trap you against him, keeping you completely crumpled in his lap. just as you’re about to say something again, you feel his entire torso shake with a silent sob, an almost inaudible whimper meeting your ears. his quiet gasps for breath hit your hair, tears dampening your neck and hoodie as his whole body continued to shudder against yours.

for a moment you’re left frozen in shock. you can’t remember one time you had seen the man cry, let alone break down as he was right now. you move your arms as much as his unyielding hold would let you, trying your best to return his desperate embrace.

“...were dead.” his voice cracks out hoarsely, only letting you hear the end of his sentence.

“...what?”

“i thought you were dead.” he shudders out another whimpered breath. “i saw you get shot.”

one of his hands that was clutching onto your shoulder moves up, shifting his grip to the back of your head and tucking you closer to the crook of his neck. he presses his nose into your hair, breathing in the scent of your shampoo before placing a teary kiss against your head.

“i was grazed by a bullet, but i’m okay.”

his other hand finds your cheek, moving your head back enough for your eyes to meet. gingerly, you use your thumb to wipe the remaining tears from under his eyes, frowning at the swollen dark circles underneath them. his dark eyebrows are uncharacteristically upturned, and his eyelashes wet and stuck together.

midnight blue irises dart down to your lips before he meets them with his own. it’s desperate, the way he tilts your head back, one of his hands threading through your hair and the other rubbing and pinching the skin on your cheek–as if he were checking that you were really there. his lips taste salty, his tears only slightly hiding how chapped they were from a lack of hydration. he parts from you to rest his forehead against yours, his breaths finally steady and full. you stare up at him in a surprised daze, feeling the pieces of a large puzzle begin to click in your head.

slowly, the two of you rise to stand again, his hands still clinging to you as if you would disappear from them if he let go. you hear soft footsteps enter the room again, and turn to see sasha peeking through the doorway. she scans you with her eyes, before her downturned lips stretch into a rare smile.

“i’m glad you’re okay.”

zenix appears behind her, arms crossed and lips pressed together in thought. sasha kicks his shin with her foot, causing him to curse under his breath at the sharp pain.

“me too, obviously.” his eyes narrowed. “but… how did you find us, exactly?

“it’s a long story, but i came to get you guys to bring you back to where we’re all hiding out. if michael or the gf finds out you’re associated with us… you guys are safer if we’re all together.” their eyes stare blankly at you in confusion. “i can explain more later, but you should pack what you can and get ready to sneak across the island.”

“sneaking into places we’re not supposed to be is the one thing we’re good at.” sasha smirks before she and zenix retreat back into their rooms.

you glance back at gene, only to see he was still staring down at you. you raise on your tiptoes, pressing a short kiss to his lips. he leans down as his lips try to follow yours, eyes hesitating to open again 

“and when we get back, you can explain more about this later.”

©starhvney, 2024. please do not steal or repost my works as your own.

[so-i-did-this-thing]

I hope you don't mind, but I just started a rewatch of ACGAS as I'm in dire need of comfort tv and a couple things: - Siegfried's hair in these first episodes is very intense, with the close-cropped sides, and I think it really helps to sell how intimidating he is to the uninitiated. By season 2 he gets fluffy and approachable now that we, the audience, know him better - I think Mrs Hall might have a touch of neurodivergence as well. When she and Siegfried are playing scrabble she tells him exactly why his word breaks the rules - not that it slows him down any. Sharpshooter master cook who can't help but invest in every hard-luck case that crosses her path Anyway I'm very fond of this show and very glad to indulge in it once again

I love this for you. ❤️ I am always happy to talk about this series; it's brought me so much comfort across its various incarnations.

I like to joke that the production made Siegfried too sexy in S1 and had to dial it back (and you can see hair & makeup trying things out), but him getting progressively fluffier is a good visual indicator of his arc from cock-sure, self-reliant, near-misanthrope to openly vulnerable, in-need-of-family man.

The biggest thing that I was initially worried about with the revival was his character -- if he'd simply be the shouty hypocrite trope. No shade on the books and OG series (and I love Robert Hardy), but that Siegfried is too mean at times for my liking; men suddenly yelling to their family members sets off my hackles.

Audrey definitely has her quirks! She is a doggedly determined mother hen, but away from her found family, she can be plunged into self-doubt. She stress cleans/cooks. She has interesting interests and skills in guns, games, and sports. She is stoic to a fault. All very interesting traits for a female character in a period show, and I love these choices! (Honestly, I love how much more all the women get to do this time around.)