#i need a fix it fic

[scrollll]

Phop and Nuth my beloved💫

Hc under the cut, I just miss them okay?

Nuth held his hand up against the sudden light. Mercilessly, the sun stung in his eyes. Even the air tasted different from the square courtyard surrounded by gray walls.

Stumbling, he took a step forward. His legs trembled. It was over. The weeks and months passed. A shocked laugh fell from his lips.

He was free.

"Nuth!" The force hit him before he could stretch out his arms. The upper body nestled warmly against his.

So warm. So alive.

Nuth wrapped his arms around him. No prison in the world would ever have been able to remove this reflex from him.

Pressing against him, feeling the ribs under the shirt, the marks of withdrawal clear on his hand. His fingers hunted over every birthmark, every muscle of the slender body, up to the narrow pearl necklace.

Tinkling, he bumped against the golden "N". "You kept it..." A warm hand clasped his.

"I never took it off."

Phop lifted his fingers and breathed a soft kiss against his knuckles. "I missed you."

Nuth reached for the back of his neck. He needed to feel it, to sense it, he needed to know it was real. Phop smiled, patiently, with that same shine in his eye.

A shaky, faint breath escaped Nuth's lips. "You're here..."

Gently, Phop leaned forward until their foreheads touched.

"Come..." he whispered, outside the walls of the place that had kept Nuth from him for so long.

"Let's go home."

[tired-all-the-time22]

Hey, man, we all can't be like you -- I wish we were all rose-colored too

{Rose-Colored Boy - Paramore}

- - - - - - - - - -

Smashing this song and my headcanon that Dash's dad is in the GIW together to make a fic Idea where the GIW finds out Danny's identity and tells on him to his parents in their hunt for phantom --

Dash's dad leads the operation, him and his team (along with the Fenton parents) cornering Danny after school while he's hiding/running away from Dash, forcing transform in order to get away; unbeknownst to either party, Dash witnesses everything and runs after Phantom to try and help.

Que the two stumbling into and getting trapped in the ghost zone in a confused scuffle while Danny's trying to escape, now on the run from three (3) parents and one (1) secret government organization.

- - - - - - - - - -

I kinda wanna use this premise to explore how Dash would progress through learning Phantom is Danny, and then (separately!) becoming a better person--

-- I think he'd be super annoying about it at first; idolizing Danny, pestering him a bunch about how cool it is to have ghost powers, generally acting way too close with him, and completely pushing aside how he treated Danny before the revelation.

Most of the situations we see Dash become friendly towards/respectful of Danny in-show are usually after Danny has shown himself to be physically strong/confident (see: Pirate Radio), and even then, Dash doesn't proceed to do any introspection at all and continues to bully him.

Conclusion: Learning Phantom = Danny would not be enough to trigger a redemption arc for Dash. This boy needs to learn some empathy.

Dash actively witnessing Danny having issues despite being powerful as Phantom (i.e. fearing and having to run from his parents, the toll fighting ghosts takes on his school/life/mental health, etc.), as well as being confronted with how privileged he is himself (having a loving, attentive family, being much better off financially, etc.) would force him into being more introspective.

Throw in him realizing the parallel between how the GIW treats Phantom with how he treats Danny (i.e. indiscriminate & unreasonable anger & violence), and -boom!- it clicks for him

[applebuttercringe]

How I hop onto Ao3 after every act of Arcane. Save me fix it fics!

[hitsuyou-fukaketsu]

The truth

[shushmal]

The latest Family Video customer is barely through the door before Eddie explodes, "Ugh, Tyler."

Beside him, Steve scoffs in agreement, nose wrinkled with distaste. He's so hot. "Yeah, exactly, uugh."

"That should be his middle name. Ugh," Robin chimes in. Eddie's so glad they're in agreement about the bleach-spiked punk guy that graduated three years ago but is still bumming around Hawkins. "Steve, I can't believe you dated that guy."

Seriously, Tyler is the worst— Wait, what—?

"Wait," Eddie says, gaping at Robin. "What?"

"You could barely call it dating," Steve huffs.

"You were together for a month and a half," Robin says. She's got this evil grin on her face and is pointedly not looking at Eddie who is very desperate for Robin to look at him right now, please. "You drove that bum to Indy every weekend. He broke up with you on Valentine's day."

Eddie's weak "Tyler? Tyler Teaks?" gets completely ignored.

"I—" Steve says with haughty emphasis. "—broke up with him on Valentine's day. Don't get it twisted, Buckley."

Robin snorts and finally glances at Eddie. "Steve only broke up with him because the guy blew him off. On Valentine's Day. Which is basically getting broken up with," she tells him, and ignores it when Eddie whimpers at her.

"Yeah, but I'm the one to ended it!" Steve insits.

Eddie, finally, finds his voice, and says, "Tyler Teaks?! Harrington!"

"Ugh," Steve says, slumping against the counter. "I know." He cuts a glare over at Eddie after a moment. "I blame you for this."

"Me?!" Eddie shrieks, incredulous. He's pretty sure he's stepped into another parallel world. Perpendicular world? A world where Steve apparently dates guys—and guys like Tyler Teaks, no less. Eddie's sure he's gone completely batshit insane. "What the hell did I do?!"

Steve stands, cocking his hip the side, and looks down his handsome nose at Eddie. "You wouldn't be my New Year's kiss at Tina's party," he says. "So I had to settle for Tyler Teaks instead."

"What the fuck?" Eddie says, completely lost. "What—? You—? Tina—? KISS—?!"

Beside them, Robin is grinning, laughing, eyes going back and forth between them, munching on a stolen back of skittles—her own personal dramedy on stage before her.

"Yep," Steve says, popping the P. He looks distinctly bitter. "Pulled my best moves on you, and you turned me down."

"Steve," Eddie breathes. He reaches out, places both hands on Steve's shoulders, intent. The eye contact he forces Steve into is desperate. "I don't even remember getting to Tina's New Year's Party." He takes a deep breath. "I woke up in her mom's pantry the next morning with no shoes and no memory of how I got there."

Finally, Steve cracks, a big smile stretching his face. Robin cackles. "Yeah, I kind of figured as much," Steve sighs, wistful now. "You told me, and I quote, 'Steve Harrington, you are very beautiful and I want to have a summer wedding because you'd look beautiful-er with sunflowers'—"

"Don't forget the 'you look so hot in that sweater' part."

"—'But actually, I am a very straight man. So very super straight.' And then you crouched down on the floor and crawled away." Steve is biting his lip now to keep from laughing. Robin is not so nice. "Like I couldn't see you, and the handkerchief flagging in your pocket."

"Oh my god."

"Don't worry, it was really cute," Steve says, grinning. "But, I still needed a New Year's kiss, and unfortunately for everyone involved, Tyler was my only willing choice."

"Oh my god."

"Totally duped me though, he was super sweet the entire night," Steve sighs. His mouth is twisted into genuine regret now. "Plus, the next week, you acted like you'd never spoken to me before, so—"

"OH MY GOD."

Steve and Robin give him twin grimaces. Robin's is a lot more sympathetic. Steve's is confused. "Listen, man," Steve tries to soothe. "I'm sure that's pretty embarrassing, but it was a cute story! No hard feelings, I promise."

Robin's sympathetic grimace deepens.

"No," Eddie says, standing up straight. "I refuse. There is no way I turned down Steve Harrington for a New Year's kiss. There is no way."

"Wait—"

"Eddie, where—"

Eddie marches for the door, digging his keys out of his pockets. "Good-bye friends, I must go see a supergirl about time travel."

[bloominglegumes]

i've been digging around for jazz-and/or-prowl-centred mystery fics and this one was so so excellent to me,, the atmosphere, the details of the environment, prowl's perspective was so nicely done the writing was so juicy i love them being best friends feeling safe together i love the idea of robot ghosts

[lovealwayssay]

I would pay an ungodly amount of money for a Supernatural finale where Dean rescues Cas from the Empty and tells him he loves him too, Eileen comes back to be with Sam, and Jack chooses to live with the four of them in the bunker as a happy family.

[potatobugz]

i'm ill ugghh i'm so ill

[puckinghischier]

celebrating quinn tonight back home in michigan with sweet, soft sex. him muttering “i love yous” in your ear, you repeating them and telling him how proud of him you are

you were surprised when he wanted to go slow tonight, despite how high energy the game was and how riled up he seemed. but the second you tried to speed things up, begging him to go harder and faster, he shushed you and kept his slow, agonizing pace.

“wanna take m’time with you tonight, sweet girl. savor you for as long as i can,” he whispers in your ear, his slow, languid thrusts making you squirm.

he’s torturing you in the best way, driving you further into blissed out oblivion with each drag of his cock in and out of you. “whatever you want, q. so proud of you. did so good, played so well tonight,” you sigh out, pushing his solid body further into yours.

the praises make his dick twitch, causing his pace to falter only slightly before finding his slow rhythm again. “love you so much, y’know that?” his lips drag slowly across your ear.

“love you too, quinn. so much. always. love you almost as much as i am proud of you. my record breaking captain,” you throw in the title for good measure, sneakily trying to get your way.

he groans lowly right into your ear, biting down onto your shoulder. “so, so, so proud,” you repeat, feeling his resolve slipping.

“not gonna work, m’enjoying this too much,” he grits out, willing himself to slow down once again. “nice try though, still love you. love you enough to reward you all night long after this,” he chuckles into your ear, sliding his hand up your arm to intertwine your fingers above your head as your breath hitches, moaning at the endless possibilities.

[thekittyokat]

you ever just have a lot, a LOT of feelings all at once about a character and not even remotely enough words or brainpower to FORM the words to describe everything you're feeling. so it feels like you may explode. yeah

[st4rgiirll]

first i love you

s2!jj maybank x gf!reader

creds: roseraris for dividers!

the sunrise painted kildare island in shades of gold, and for once, jj was awake to see it. he sat at the end of the dock, legs dangling over the water, his usual bravado stripped away by the early morning quiet.

you found him there after waking up to a cold bed, with no protective arm around you. you knew where he’d be, he always sat by the water when his thoughts got too loud.

“couldnt sleep?” you ask, settling beside him.

you lean your head on his shoulder, you felt his head rest on your own.

“nah.” he replied, his signature half-smile playing at his lips. “too much thinking. dangerous activity, i know.”

you smiled slightly, pushing his side lightly. after months of being together, you’d learned to read between the lines when it came to him, to understand when his jokes were armour rather than humour.

”want to talk about it?” jj was quiet for a long moment, his eyes fixated on the horizon where the sun was climbing higher in the sky.

his fingers fidgeted with the bandana tied around his wrist - one you’d given him months ago when he’d cut his hand trying to fix his bike. he washed it and kept it, asking you to tie it around his wrist and of course you obliged.

“my old man showed up yesterday,” he finally said, his voice barely about a whisper.

“started spouting the same old shit, ‘bout how im just like him, how i’ll never amount to anything.”

your heart clenched. you’d seen the shadow his father had cast on him, how deep those wounds ran. “jj…” you started, but he shook his head.

“that’s not even the part that kept me up.” he continued, finally turning to look at you. his blue eyes were intense, vulnerable in a way you rarely saw them.

“what kept me up was thinkin’ about how different everything is now. how different i am. ‘cause of you.” your breath caught in your throat.

jj maybank didnt do serious conversations, didnt bare his soul unless something was really eating at him.

“you make me want to be better.” he said, his voice rough with emotion. “you make me believe i can he. and thats…” he swallowed hard.

“that’s fucking terrifying.”

“why is it terrifying?” you asked softly, despite already knowing the answer.

“because i love you.” he blurted out, then immediately looked away, as if bracing for impact. “and everyone i’ve ever loved has either left or hirt me and i cant… i cant lose you too.”

the vulnerability in his voice made your heart ache. this was jj maybank, the real one - no swagger, no deflecting jokes, just raw honesty from a boy who’d never been taught how to love or be loved properly.

you reached out, gently turning his face back toward you. his eyes met yours, uncertainty warring with hope in their depths.

“jj maybank.” you said firmly. “i love you too. and im not going anywhere.”

the smile that broke across his face was like watching the sun come out after a storm - brilliant and a little disbelieving. before you could say anything else, he pulled you into a kiss that tasted of salt air and promise.

when you finally broke apart, he pressed his forehead against yours, letting out a shaky breath. “say it again.” he whispered, and you could hear the smile in his voice.

“i love you.” you repeated, feeling him pull you closer.

“one more time?” you laughed, the sound carrying across the water.

“i love you, you idiot.”

“good.” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your temple. “‘cause i love you too, and i plan on saying it until you’re sick of hearing it.”

“i dont think that’s possible..” you smile, nuzzling your face into him.

the sun was fully up now, turning the water to diamonds, and jj’s arms were warm around you. you stayed there together, watching the island wake up, both understanding that something had shifted between you – something as vast and deep as the ocean stretching out before you.

and for the first time in his life, jj maybank wasn't scared of falling. he was already caught.

[g00seg1raffe]

I feel like it's not addressed enough that Obi-Wan was so not ready for Anakin at the end of TPM. He wasn't quite ready to be a Knight, let alone take a Padawan, let alone Anakin.

Like, imagine you're 25 years old, already dealing with plenty of issues from your shitshow of a teen-to-young-adult experience when your Master - your father, your friend, your teacher, your guardian of 12 years, who you didn't always have the best relationship with but goddamn it you tried so hard and overcame so much to get to where you are - is literally murdered in front of you by a fucking demon, the ancient bogeymen of all your childhood stories who are suddenly very real and killing the people you love. Everyone looks at you now with so much awe and fear because, in a haze of grief and panic, you managed to become the first to kill a demon in a millennium - which is somehow that's enough of a qualification to immediately graduate your apprenticeship with full honours even though you never actually got the chance to finish it. Five minutes of pure terror turned your life upside down, and now you have to shoulder the burdens of a knighthood that you know you're not ready for, and find some way to live with the crushing expectations that come with your newfound, accidental and very unwanted semi-legendary status. And, if that wasn't enough already, within 24 hours of all this going down, you're also legally responsibly for raising a hyperactive 9 year old ex-slave Child of Prophesy with crippling CPTSD and more power than god. You somehow, somehow have to raise this boy to be both a good Knight - which you haven't had a chance to figure out how to be yourself yet - and a functional person - which was never and easy thing for you to be but is getting harder by the day. You desperately want to do right by your new Padawan and honour your Master's dying wish but you're not ready for any of this, you didn't ask for it, and you're trying so hard to not repeat Qui-Gon's mistakes whilst also being painfully aware that you can never live up to what he could have been. Then there's homework and missions and nightmares and you worry that Anakin isn't making friends and you haven't slept more than 3 hours a night in weeks and the President of the Galaxy is pressuring you for some Private Alone Time with your child -

How the fuck is anyone supposed to handle that?

[solarmorrigan]

oooh. fic requests! how about 6 - fight or 19 - allergies for steddie?

Hello! I'm sorry it took so long to get to this one, but I hope it's alright! I went with:

6. Fight - Steddie

cw: implied/referenced child abuse, implied/referenced domestic violence, unhealthy relationship dynamics (not between Eddie and Steve)

-

The most frustrating thing about fighting with Steve is that he doesn’t fight. Not really.

Sure, he’ll poke and he’ll prod and he’ll snip and he’ll snap; he’ll dole out bitchy, passive aggressive comments and roll his eyes and sigh pointedly, but the moment things get heated, the moment an argument gets real, it’s just–

“Fine. Fine,” Steve snaps, tossing his hands up with an exasperated huff. “You’re right, okay? I’m– I’m sorry.”

And at first, Eddie had always felt so vindicated, so flush with the triumph of winning an argument, that it had taken him a while to realize that it felt– wrong. That Steve—so confident, so sure in his opinions, so willing to stand up to people when he has something to defend—would just give in without a fight– it feels wrong.

So Eddie had tried to pay attention – really pay attention. They don’t fight often, but when an argument inevitably does crop up, Eddie always wins. Rather, Steve always lets him. He never raises his voice, never gets in Eddie’s face, never really even makes counterarguments. He cedes to Eddie’s points and then subsides and it’s– it’s infuriating, because Eddie doesn’t understand.

“Don’t do that,” Eddie growls, tugging a frustrated hand through his hair.

“Don’t– what? Don’t apologize?” Steve asks incredulously.

“No!” Eddie bursts out. “Not if you don’t mean it!”

“Excuse me?” Steve draws back, offended. “What the hell do you want me to do to prove I’m sincere? Get on my knees and fucking grovel?”

“That’s not–” Eddie leaves off with a frustrated noise, trying hard to keep his tone level. “I don’t want to win an argument just because you let me. I don’t want you to apologize just because you think it’s what I want to hear.”

“I’m not letting you win,” Steve says quickly, crossing his arms over his chest.

“You are, though. You do. Every time. You won’t actually engage, you just say I’m right and then clam up and that’s it,” Eddie says.

Steve levels him with a look of disbelief. “So– what, you want me to yell at you? You want me to tell you that you’re wrong?”

“I want–” Eddie pinches the bridge of his nose, taking a second to gather his thoughts. “I want you to feel like you’re allowed to argue with me. I don’t want you to just give in and then resent me or something.”

“I don’t resent you, Eddie,” Steve says with a roll of his eyes.

“No?” Eddie pushes. “How many times have we gone to bed after an argument with me perfectly satisfied, thinking I’ve won, while you’re actually still mad at me?”

“That’s– I don’t…” Steve shifts uncomfortably. “If I’m still mad, that’s my problem. I can just get over it.”

“But that’s exactly what I mean!” Eddie insists. “That shit builds up! And besides, what if you’re the one who’s really right? I might actually be wrong, and you should tell me. Or maybe there’s some kind of, like, compromise we can reach, I don’t know! I don’t want you to be afraid to push back – I don’t want you to be afraid of me.”

“I’m not afraid of you,” Steve says, jaw jutting out stubbornly when Eddie fixes him with a considering look. “I’m not. I’m just– how long before yelling turns into a screaming match? How long before it turns into throwing shit around, or– or shoving each other, or worse?”

“Steve…” Eddie murmurs, the last of his heated frustration draining away, leaving a clammy kind of dismay in its place. “Steve, I would never do any of those things to you.”

“I know,” Steve says, and it sounds like he means it. “I know that. But what if I–”

“No,” Eddie says firmly, because he thinks he understands now – Steve isn’t afraid of him, he’s afraid of himself. Afraid of turning into everything he’d been raised around: the blowout arguments between his parents, his mom’s petty destruction of his dad’s things, his dad’s frustration turned back on Steve, a cycle of violent familial bullshit that Steve is determined to break free from, even if it means saying that he’s wrong every time. Eddie comes forward, grabbing Steve’s hands; he can’t even remember what they’d been arguing about moments before, but he knows he doesn’t care anymore. “You would never do that. I know you, Steve, you are nothing like that.”

Steve looks down at their joined hands, blinking rapidly. “This– you… You’re more important than winning. Than any stupid argument,” he says.

“That’s exactly why we should have stupid arguments,” Eddie says, grinning a little when that gets a choked laugh out of Steve. “I’m serious. Let’s have stupid, petty arguments so they don’t turn into big ones. I swear I’m not going to stay mad if you get on my ass about not doing the dishes.”

Slowly, Steve nods. He doesn’t entirely look like he believes Eddie, but that’s fine. It’s always been like this – Steve unwilling (or unable) to believe that someone will love him if he doesn’t make it easy for them. Eddie’s been breaking that down, bit by bit, and this is no different. This is no chore.

“I’ll still love you even when I’m angry. Even when you’re angry,” Eddie promises. “I just love you, full stop.”

Steve nods again, more certain this time as he looks up to meet Eddie’s eyes. “I love you, too,” he says, because he always, always says it back, which suits Eddie just fine.

He figures if they can agree on that much, every other disagreement will be a breeze.

[sengenism]

gen doesn't like losing

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

he’s staring.

in the corner of your eye lies a silhouette, a blur of black hair and sharp facial features. awfully hard not to notice, when he’s standing so close to you — gazing at you so intently. waiting for you to say something.

(resisting the urge to look at him directly is a struggle.)

a smile tugs at the corners of your lips, something giddy and sweet flooding your veins. he’s just standing there. all while you tap at the keys of your laptop, trying to focus on your work. in vain.

because, inevitably, the rubber band of your patience snaps — and you can do nothing but give in to the temptation. feeling him shift from foot to foot, silent as a mouse. you turn your head.

suguru looks meek.

there he stands, tired eyes trailing over your facial features, before falling down to the floor. something about it makes you want to coo — almost like he’s a little flustered. fidgeting with his hands, wringing his long fingers together, so patiently waiting for your attention to fall on him. 

you swear you see the ghost of a pout slip into the curve of his lips. wearing a comfortable sweater, oversized and fluffy, framed by the obsidian of his hair; cascading down his shoulders like a black river. let loose, free to fall as it please, a signature sign that he’s tired.

and as soon as your eyes meet his, a certain something blossoms within the scope of his iris. peeling at the corners, slipping into the amber and cedar, an emotion you can’t quite place. would it be too tacky to call it love?

a giggle slips from your lips, dancing on the tip of your tongue. it’s soft, a little teasing, but who could blame you when he looks so cute? suguru, with his tall stature and broad shoulders, sharp eyes and intimidating presence, staring meekly in your direction. as if too embarrassed to ask for something, curling into himself.

”hey there,” you exhale, something amused laced into the vowels. ��everything okay?”

he averts his gaze. enamored with the smile on your face, the crinkle of your eyes, the melodic lilt of your sweet laughter. like peach blossoms and duvet covers, too soft for him to handle. far too sweet, the mere sight of you, all cozied up on the couch; legs crossed and laptop balanced on your thigh. 

(suguru wishes he could take its place.)

a tilt of your head beckons him to speak, and he can’t help but notice the remnants of something teasing in the gesture. he feels a little out of his element, almost shy, and it’s discomforting — but he’s just so tired. much too plagued by the need to be close to you.

he can live with a little teasing, if it’s you, only if it’s you. 

”what’re you working on?” he asks, delicate, soft voice flowing from his lips like melted honey. there’s a raspy tilt to it, a little scratchy. you smile, gaze drawn towards the screen in front of you.

”nothing much, just some essay. i’m almost finished.” a low sigh, as you lazily scroll through the text. suguru hums. when you look over at him, the smile on your face grows just a tad softer. ”did you need something?”

suguru stills. blinking drowsily, slow and awfully endearing, a flutter of his black lashes. absentmindedly fidgeting with the hem of his puffy sleeve. the silence lingers, a contemplation etched onto his features, until he clears his throat — still unable to look at you properly. 

(there’s only one thing he wants. needs. asking for it is just a little bit tough, though.)

patiently waiting, you begin to study his expression. second nature, to tuck his features in between your ribs, smoothe along the contours you’ve come to love so dearly. memorizing every dip and birthmark.

there’s a barely noticeable flush to his cheeks, a crimson smear that starts at his ears and only ever nips along his cheekbones, but it’s enough to let you know that he’s embarrassed. more than enough, seeing as his gaze won’t even land on you, seeing the fatigue beneath his eyes, the crease between his brows. something that sticks to his skin and drags him down. 

he has been a little stressed, lately. more so than usual. and you’ve noticed, of course you have — worriedly waiting for him to approach you, to let you help. winters are never very kind to him. 

he’s gorgeous, though, even like this. especially like this. sleepy, just a little unkempt, in his natural state. bare, somehow. like he just woke up, like the morning sun is kissing up his collarbone and he just made a cute little sleepy noise that you’re going to tease him for over breakfast. like he’s unguarded, at peace, safe in your arms.

it makes your heart soften considerably. crumbling at the corners, a pang of lovesick ache tugging at your fragile heartstrings.

and finally, you speak up. urging him to continue, gently, not wanting to rush him. ”well?” 

suguru gnaws at the flesh of his bottom lip, just a little chapped. his tongue flits out to lick along the dry skin, and he does a little cough under his breath. you’re patient, waiting for him to speak, but it’s tough when all you want is to tug him close.

(you have an idea of what he’s going to ask you, what it is he wants. because you know him — and you want it too.)

”… can,” he starts, tentative. slow, as if he’s trying to swallow the embarrassment, gulp down the nervous flutter of his heartbeat. then he continues. ”i get a hug?”

finally, he looks at you; and your heart ricochets in your chest. amber eyes boring into yours, deep and warm, soft around the edges. kind of shy. 

a sharp intake of breath. you can’t help the grin that crawls up to your lips, and you can’t help the words that spill from them. ”gosh, you’re so cute.”

suguru turns away, with what you’re almost sure is a low grumble — buzzing in his throat, like a dragonfly itching to break out. he really does look meek, a little needy, so cute you’re afraid your lungs might collapse. when a chuckle pushes past your lips, the red tint on his neck and ears only seems to exacerbate. 

with swift movements, you close your laptop, plopping it down on the table in front of you. not wanting to waste any time, a little afraid that he’ll change his mind. ”of course you can,” you assure him, a soft lull of your tongue.

leaning back, you rest your head against a pile of cushiony pillows, melting into the couch beneath you. extending your arms; beckoning him close, into your embrace. the smile you grace him with is a little teasing, but mostly soft, inviting.

and suguru can’t resist it.

he still seems a little flustered, as he crawls along the couch, to take his rightful place in your arms. flopping down on top of you with a huff, like a big dog, cheek squished against your chest — eager to listen to the echo of your heartbeat. steady and soothing, a lullaby to his muddled mind.

a long, satisfied sigh escapes him, muffled into the fabric of your shirt. he wraps his arms around you, nuzzling a little further into your touch. slowly melting.

ah, he’s just too much. try as you might, you don’t fully manage to stifle the coo that laces the tip of your tongue. just admiring him, in the dim lighting of the room, all sleepy and content. that palpable fatigue, slowly dissipating. a soft groan slips from his lips when your hand goes to card through his hair, softly, nails raking over his scalp.

”my big baby,” you murmur, planting a kiss on the top of his head. suguru wants to grumble, protest a bit, but all he can do is soak in the words, the skip of his heartbeat that follows. ”everything okay?”

he nods. groggy, cheek against your soft chest. no longer able to hide his neediness, to muster the strenght, thoroughly soothed by the warmth that seeps from your body. from your veins to his. and he sighs, barely above a whisper. ”jus’ missed you.”

he must notice it, you think — the rapid rhythm of your heartbeat, something erratic in the decisive thumps of blood. a little louder than they should be. 

but if he does, he doesn’t mention it. only shifting a little in your arms, nuzzling further into your chest, relishing in the sensation of your hand in between his messy locks. so cozy. 

”i missed you too,” you echo, unable to fight off the sappy grin on your lips. so much affection in every caress, every soft glance. eager to be let out. ”’m sorry if i’ve been neglecting you.” 

suguru shakes his head — brushing off your guilt. always so willing to put your peace of mind before his. it only weakens you further, thoughts fuzzy with the image of him, the love that clouds your vision. how to properly convey it in words. 

”i’m always so proud of you,” you exhale, a little shaky. so earnest that you falter. a loud mantra of your heartbeat filling your ears, so much fondness stuffed inside your chest. ”working so hard. love you so, so much, honey.”

this time, it’s suguru’s heart that stutters and flails. reduced to a desperate instinct, something intimate and bare. the term of endearment slips off your tongue like it was always meant to be there, like that’s where it belongs, coupled with the soft sensation of your fingers ghosting over his skin. brushing away his bangs to smear a kiss against his forehead.

”i’m never gonna let you go,” you promise, unable to control the affection smeared into your voice. like you’d explode if you didn’t speak it out loud. ”my angel.”

”okay — that’s,” suguru croaks, before you can continue. exasperated, deeply embarrassed. at this point, he’s sure his face must be red, and he’s sure you can see it. despite his attempts to hide away in the crook of your neck. ”that’s enough.”

laughter bubbles up in your throat, sweet like osmanthus and whipped cream. giddy and teasing, in equal measure, sending a jolt of fondness running through his veins. ”are you embarrassed?”

”no,” he scoffs, too quickly. you both know he’s lying. it’s a rare treat, seeing him this flustered — how could you resist the urge to tease him a bit? 

”then why d’you want me to stop?” you grin, searching for his gaze. but suguru refuses to look at you.

”it’s just…” he mumbles, a string of tiny words. gnawing at his bottom lip. ”a little much, don’t you think?”

”i mean it, though.”

suguru groans, and a bout of giggles pushes past your lips. the smile on your face is starting to make your cheeks hurt, an achy kind of joy. yeah — suguru is just far too cute. he’s cute, and pretty, and beautiful, and gorgeous. how could you keep yourself away?

reaching for a strand of his hair, you let it fall between your fingers. smooth and silky, brushing against your skin, soft and familiar. memories bloom from your fingertips, seeping into your subconscious; the first time he let you touch his hair, that content purr in his throat, the time you braided it as the world fell asleep around you. he takes good care of it, always has. attentive and delicate, almost as lovingly as he handles you.

a great surge of affection sprouts in between your ribs, spreading throughout every cell of your body, wholly engulfing you. it’s too much to bear.

a blissful sigh. you tilt your head, softly, a bleeding tenderness to every word you speak. and you do, with a sincerity to your voice that he’s never been able to handle. “is it really so strange if i want to give the love of my life some affection?” 

— and suguru’s resolve crumbles into dust. 

”… you’re,” he tries, a shiver of his weak voice. under normal circumstances, he could think of a suave reply, something to get the upper hand; but today, suguru happens to be very tired, and you seem awfully set on making him melt through the couch. ”— awful. you know that?”

his heart aches, when the bitter words make you giggle. a little sleepy. it makes him want to tuck you into his chest, hide you away inside his ribcage. kiss you breathless.

”so mean,” you pout, entirely fabricated. a heavy amusement lays thick on your tongue. “i’m professing my undying love for you here, y’know?”

”that’s exactly what i mean,” he sighs, unable to repress the slight smile on his lips. a little tug, that says more than his words ever could.

the laughter in your throat lingers, for a bit, until the intimacy of the moment softens you up. something tender and genuine in the depths of your eyes. ”i mean it, though. i’m not just teasing you.” 

your hand goes to cup his face, thumb smoothing over his cheekbone. and then you’re leaning in, to press your lips against his forehead — pulling away with a drawn out mwah, a soft grin, a little boyish. terribly cute. 

”i really do love you,” you profess, a whisper. he believes you. “i love everything about you.”

a moment passes. the soft ticking of the clock fills the space between your words, and the scent of leftover curry and brewed coffee simmers in the faraway kitchen. wafting out into the living room. 

suguru places his hand over yours. a rough palm, always so gentle with you, slipping down to your wrist so he can hoist himself up. 

you blink. 

before you know it, he’s pressed his lips to yours, slow and methodical. tender, tender, tender. always. he sighs into the kiss, content, and your heartbeat quickens — he tastes like honey and rain.

when he pulls away, he’s smiling. a little lovesick.

”i love you too,” he hums, a soft purr that trails down your spine. he delights in the way you finally blush, cheeks warm beneath his heavy hands. ”so, so much.”

all you can do is stare, entirely transfixed. 

then you’re averting your gaze, and he’s stifling a soft bout of laughter, and something warm and wonderful blooms in the nearly non-existent space between you. his cheek finds itself pressed against your chest, again, allowing the soft and rapid thumping of your heartbeat to carry him away.

an anchor for him to hold on to, his lighthouse at the end of a murky ocean. it’s always, always there — that soft mantra of thump, thump, thump.

(he can’t tell you how many times it’s saved him.)

”… you can’t do stuff like that when my guard is down,” you murmur, after a moment. sheepish. ”what if my heart explodes?” 

suguru only chuckles, sleepy and raspy, the same as ever. he turns his head to press a kiss against the fabric of your shirt, right above your heart, a kind of cheeky, soft apology that you know he doesn’t actually mean. 

(he could never feel sorry for telling you how much he loves you; no matter how flustered you get.)

and, at last, suguru thinks the fatigue clinging to his soul may have slipped off entirely. substantially. soothed by your presence, your very being. 

it’s embarrassing, being so very doted on, being so painfully unaccustomed to it. but suguru could never hate it. he could never hate a single thing you do to him, grant him with, from your soft touches and cheeky kisses to the burnt pancakes you worked so hard on. 

he’d rather die than deny you. 

so he has no choice but to bask in it; the feeling of your hands in his hair, nails on his scalp, breath against his skin. the change you’ve brought into his life. bringing with you the fading scent of peach blossoms and chewing gum, sweetness and softness. happy dreams.

yeah, that’s right. he has no choice but to melt into your touch, nuzzle into your chest, fall asleep to the sound of your heartbeat. 

no choice at all.

[breathing-in-waves]

Okay but hear me out-