#i want to go back to school at some point and finish my degree even if its at a snail's pace.

[rubythecrimsonwriter]

I have to remind myself that I'm fucking disabled and expecting myself to do everything all at once is a good path for disappointment, guilt, and tanking self esteem

[chahnniesroom]

cross my heart

pairing: bang chan & female reader, hwang hyunjin & female reader

summary: chan has quickly become one of your closest friends at university. too bad his girlfriend, hayoon, has him wrapped around her little finger and she's determined to make your life miserable. hyunjin is just enjoying watching the drama unfold.

word count: 4.0k

tags/warnings: angst!!! hurt and maybe some comfort?, infidelity (not between the reader or chan/hyunjin), arguing, the relationships with the reader are more like friendships than dating (please let me know if you think there should be more tags/warnings)

a/n: totally thought this was going to be a short fic (like less than 1k words) but it blossomed into something more. i wanted to try something different with this fic but not sure if i pulled it off lol please be kind if you comment! i also did not to bother with honourifics so... you can pretend that chan, hyunjin, and y/n are all the same age 😅

read it on ao3 | masterlist

It's almost funny how quickly you and Chan become friends. 

You hadn't really been looking forward to taking a technical writing class, but it's one of the requirements to get your degree and at least the lecture is large enough that you won't have to do any in-class participation. When the professor announces that one of the very first assignments is going to be completed in random pairs, you're instantly nervous. It’s only after meeting Chan, who is easygoing yet studious, that you feel better.

Although the group assignment only takes a couple weeks to finish, you find yourself hanging out more and more. Chan has a natural way of writing, he's intelligent and efficient with his wording without sacrificing clarity. While you can eventually write something that’s fairly clear and concise, it takes a lot of effort and a lot of time so you're grateful to be working with Chan who doesn't struggle with tight timelines like you do.

The two of you grow close together, especially once you realise that you have a similar sense of humour and taste in music. It doesn't take long before technical writing is your favourite class. Chan always saves you a seat beside him, even though he has quite a few friends that are also taking this course. You’re not used to it at first, but you grow comfortable with the way that he leans over to make quips about whatever the professor is saying or pointing out if someone in the lecture hall is falling asleep. You sometimes bring him snacks and in exchange he brings you a drink.

The more you learn about Chan, the more you're convinced that he's perfect.

Well, apart from one thing.

The worst thing about Chan is his girlfriend. Jung Hayoon absolutely hates you and, behind Chan's back, never fails to make sure you know it too. While the two of you have never shared any courses, she regularly meets Chan after class is over and you've been invited to join them and some other friends for a meal or to study so you've interacted with her more than you want to.

You’re not quite sure what you've done to earn Hayoon's ire, but you can only guess that it's your blossoming friendship with Chan as she’s never seemed to care about you before you met him. She takes every opportunity to make backhanded compliments, pointed comments about how much or what you're eating, or loudly exclaiming when you have something stuck in your teeth. You try not to let it get to you, but you're always been a bit too sensitive.

You start declining offers to hang out with Chan and the rest of his friends after class, trying to ignore Chan's disappointment and Hayoon's smug smile every time that you make excuses.

Of course, she's sickly sweet around Chan, constantly hanging off his arm, batting her eyes at him, and trying to hold his attention. You can't really stand her obviously fake behaviour, but she makes Chan happy so you don't say anything negative about her when Chan's around.

You aren’t the type to keep up with school gossip, but even you know that Hayoon's track record is far from pristine. In fact, you were surprised to hear that someone as genuine and kind as Chan was in a relationship with someone like Hayoon.

—

The library isn't your favourite place to study, but partway through midterm season you're desperate for a change in scenery. You spend the better part of the day completing practice exams for the course you're the most worried about until you finally feel more confident. Satisfied with your progress and excited at the prospect of eating a proper meal rather than the snacks that have kept you going so far, you quickly pack up.

There aren't too many people in the library since it’s so close to the weekend, a lot of students have either finished all of their exams for the week or just given up studying. Maybe that's why your attention seems so drawn to the couple that you pass on the way to the door.

You don't mean to do anything other than quickly glance at them, but the familiarity of the girl catches your eye. The carefully styled hair and slim figure is a common combination to see at your university, but after weeks of trying to avoid her, there’s no mistaking Jung Hayoon.

And it's not Chan that she’s currently kissing.

You stumble away from them, but not before Hayoon looks up and spots you. Instead of panicking or stopping, she continues making out with the boy, maintaining eye contact with you. She even has the audacity to wink. You stare at her for a second, stunned, then bolt out of the building.

You're so flustered that you don't know what to do or where to go. You end up walking to the nearest bench and sitting down heavily in it.

You knew that you didn't like Hayoon, that she was two-faced and had likely cheated on past partners, but you hadn't expected to ever catch her in the act, especially while she was dating Chan. You couldn't fathom why anybody would want anything else when they had him and you had never been able to understand cheating in the first place.

You have to tell Chan, you decide. As much as you hate difficult conversations and it kills you to be the bringer of bad news, you know that you'd never be able to sleep at night if you tried to hide this from him. If you were in his position, you would prefer to know as soon as possible.

You call him as you start heading in the direction of his dorm.

“Hey,” Chan picks up after only a few rings. “Is everything okay? You don't usually call.”

“Uhm-” You have no clue what to say, you didn't think this through enough before dialling. “Where are you? I- Can I come talk to you?”

“Y/n? What's wrong?” Chan's instantly concerned.

“Nothing, I just- I really need to talk to someone right now,” you say quickly. “I'm fine, I mean.”

“Okay. I'm at home right now, but I can come meet you if you need? Where are you?”

“Don't worry about it, I'll head over, if that's okay.”

“Sure,” Chan says, sounding extremely worried. “Be safe, Y/n. I'll see you soon.”

After you hang up, you don't quite run to Chan's place, but you're out of breath and sweaty by the time you make it. You take a moment to compose yourself before requesting access into the building, but you know you still look frazzled. Chan buzzes you in immediately and he’s waiting in the hallway when you step out of the elevator. He guides you into his room, but only after checking you over and making sure that you're physically okay.

“Y/n, you're scaring me,” he says after leading both of you to sit down at his tiny kitchen table. “Tell me what's got you so worked up.”

“Do you know where Hayoon is today?” you ask, probably sounding insane. Chan pauses for a moment, brow furrowed before he responds.

“I know that she has an exam tomorrow, so I assume that she's studying. Why, what's up?”

“She didn't say where or who she was going to be with today?”

“No, but it's not like I'm tracking her all the time. She's her own person, she's not obligated to constantly update me.”

“I saw her at the library.”

“Okay,” Chan says slowly.

“She was with someone else, a guy.”

“Why are you telling me this, Y/n?” Chan asks, starting to sound annoyed. His tone catches you off guard.  “This is why you called me, why you ran over to my place? If you think I'm that controlling-”

“They were kissing,” you interrupt. “She’s cheating on you, Chan.”

“Who was the guy?”

“I- I didn't see him well, his back was towards me so I couldn't recognize him,” you falter.

“Did you take a picture? Was there anyone else around?”

“No- but, I-”

“So I'm just supposed to believe you,” he says flatly.

“What? Why would I make this up?”

“I know that, for some reason, you don’t like Hayoon.” Chan's usually friendly voice is cold and his face is stony. “I can live with that. I mean, of course it would be nice if you were at least civil to her. But at the end of the day, you don’t have to, she’s my girlfriend and not yours.”

“Okay,” you say slowly, “but how would lying about this benefit me at all?”

“She warned me about this, you know. She said you were jealous. Of her. Of us. That you would do something to try and break us up.” Chan laughs, but the sound is empty. “I always defended you, which she hated. I don't know how many times I told her that you weren't like that, that there was nothing going on between us.”

“Well I can assure you that I’m not jealous. That I’m not trying to break you two up.”

“I know that there’s… chemistry between us,” Chan acknowledges. “I don't have that many close female friends and I didn't before I started dating Hayoon either, but I know that I like your company and that you're easy to talk to. But that's all. It's fine if you're interested in me, you can’t help your feelings, but accusing my girlfriend of cheating? That’s sick, Y/n.”

“Are you kidding me? There is nothing going on between us.” you say incredulously. “Listen Chan, I’m saying this, I'm here as a friend. You think I'm lying? You think I want to hurt you?”

“I think that maybe Hayoon had a point when she said you wouldn't be satisfied with just being friends.”

“That's what you think of me?” you ask, feeling hurt. “Even if I was interested, I wouldn't do that. I respect you as a friend, I respect you as a person, and I respect your relationship whether I like your partner or not. But if that’s how you see me, I’m not sure that we were ever really friends. I would never try to sabotage you or anybody that's happily in a relationship.” Chan's face drops at your words.

“Y/n-” he starts to say, but you've had enough of this conversation.

“Look- I came here because I knew I would feel terrible and guilty if I didn't, but I can't convince you of something you don't want to believe.” You shake your head and walk towards the door.

Chan doesn't try to stop you as you leave.

 —

The next day you get to class 15 minutes before it’s supposed to start. You're exhausted, have your eyes swollen from crying when you got back home last night, and most of all, feel hurt. You had been a little worried about how Chan would react to what you had to tell him, but you never expected that he would dismiss you without a thought. It's hard to reconcile with the upbeat and kind seatmate that you're used to.

Instead of your usual seat near the middle of the classroom, you opt for one off to the side that’s often emptier, not wanting to have to talk to or even see Chan. You pull up an assignment that you’ve been procrastinating working on and manage to ignore the rest of your classmates as they filter into the lecture hall. It’s only when someone slides into the seat right next to you that you look up, surprised anybody would approach you when you’re clearly being unsociable and look awful.

“Hyunjin.” You’re too shocked to even say hello.

“That’s my name,” Hyunjin replies, looking unimpressed by your greeting as he pulls out his laptop. “Good morning to you, too.”

“Sorry, good morning. You don’t usually sit with me.” You can’t help but point out the obvious. 

In fact, Hyunjin usually doesn't sit with anyone. He's popular, it'd be hard not to be when you look as good as he does, but it's in a different way than Chan. While Chan seems to know practically everybody on campus, Hyunjin is almost untouchable.

While there are hoards of girls and guys that would love to have even a sliver of his attention, Hyunjin has a small circle of friends and is more interested in escaping the lecture hall to paint or dance than socialise. The only reason that you know him is because one of your closest childhood friends, Minho, is on the same dance crew as him and the three of you sometimes hang out. You wouldn't say that Hyunjin is more than an acquaintance though, he still intimidates you enough that you never would have tried to approach him first.

“And you don’t usually sit over here.” Hyunjin pretends to stretch and turns to look at your usual spot. “Avoiding someone?”

“Maybe.” You blush, embarrassed to be so easily seen through. “Is it that noticeable?”

“Nah, I just figured it was a matter of time before Hayoon got under your skin enough. I'm actually impressed you lasted this long, she really has it out for you.” While Hyunjin is surprisingly perceptive, you've also spent a fair bit of time ranting about Hayoon to Minho, and as a result, Hyunjin is kept up to speed on everything that Hayoon has done to antagonise you. You never realised that he actually paid enough attention to remember or that he agreed that Hayoon treated you like dirt.

“Actually, she’s not the one that I don’t want to talk to. Well, I never want to talk to her, but I’m not avoiding her.”

“No way,” Hyunjin crowds into your personal space, eyebrows raised dramatically. “Chan?”

You’ve had a pit in your stomach since last night’s argument and your mouth dries up at the thought of being so vulnerable, but something about the way that Hyunjin's eyes have widened to the size of dinner plates and his mouth has formed a little shocked ‘o’ is so disarming. 

“We had a disagreement last night,” you admit.

“Hayoon cheated?” he guesses.

Now it's your turn for your mouth to drop open in shock.

“Don't say it so loud,” you hiss. “How did you know?”

“Well, as much as I usually like to give people the benefit of the doubt, especially for something this serious…” Hyunjin grimaces slightly. “I’ve been kind of expecting it. Hasn't she done the same on her past three or four boyfriends?”

“Oof, that bad? I've heard some things, but never really knew for sure.”

“At least,” Hyunjin confirms. “Honestly, I'd be more shocked if she didn't cheat at this point. I'm guessing Chan didn't take it so well if you're upset with him.”

“He's loyal to a fault, literally!” you complain. “In his eyes, Hayoon can’t do anything wrong, he's able to explain away everything she does. He didn’t believe that it was her that I saw.”

“So what are you going to do?” Hyunjin asks curiously.

“Nothing,” you say sullenly. “As much as I'd like to shake some sense into him, he's an adult. He can make his own decisions and if he wants to live in denial, that's up to him.”

“You're a good friend.” Hyunjin reaches out tentatively and after an awkward second, pats your shoulder. “Not everyone would be brave enough to have that kind of difficult conversation. Chan may be stubborn right now, but he'll appreciate it later.”

“Well based on yesterday, I don't think I'm his friend at all,” you huff. “Anyway, if it's okay with you, I don't think that I will make it through the rest of the term if I have to sit over there.”

“Be my guest.” Hyunjin grins and the sight of it makes the lecture a bit easier to sit through.

—

You don’t talk to Chan for the rest of the term. While you stopped outright avoiding him, you’re pretty sure that he’s purposely steering clear of you. Instead, you continue to sit with Hyunjin and pretend that Chan doesn’t exist.

It feels silly that you miss him or that you can’t seem to get over how things ended between the two of you. You had only been friends for two months, you shouldn’t be so hurt every time he purposely turns away from you or when his eyes seem to slide over you like you’re not there.

Hyunjin basically becomes your part-time therapist. Most of the time, it’s enough that he keeps you distracted. He shares all the latest campus gossip with you, allows you to work while he paints, and invites you to hang out with Minho and the rest of their dance crew more than a few times. On the rare occasion when you’re feeling more fragile than usual, he would be willing to spend an evening at your place and listen to you wallow.

“It’s fair that you’re still upset,” he had comforted you once. You had run into Hayoon in the bathroom that afternoon and she had gloated about how nothing and nobody would be able to break her and Chan apart. It had made you feel sick to the stomach. “There was never any resolution. Chan didn’t believe you, doesn’t believe you, even though you went to him with good intentions and it’s reasonable that you would feel hurt or frustrated.”

“I feel so stupid,” you had sniffled. “It’s not even like it was a break up. We were just friends.”

“That doesn’t make it any easier, you’re still missing someone who used to be in your life. It’ll get easier next term when you don’t share a class, I promise.” Somehow, that actually had made you feel better.

“Thanks, Hyunjin,” you had said with a watery smile.

The two of you work out well together, not just because you enjoy each other’s presence, but also because there’s no expectations or pressure. Hyunjin has slowly started to share with you stories about his previous relationships, how he’s hesitant to start dating again after having his heart broken so many times. Even though there are rumours swirling about the two of you, you know that neither of you are ready for it yet and that’s partly why it's so easy to hang out with him.

Tonight, the two of you are just hanging out in his art studio. You're mindlessly scrolling on your phone, you’ve just finished the exam that you've been dreading the most and don't have the brain capacity to even think about school. You know that Hyunjin is doing the same, you can see it out of the corner of your eye, but he's trying to pretend that he's working since his painting is due the next day.

He drops all pretences when he gasps loudly at something that he sees on his phone.

“Y/n,” he says gravely.

“What?” you ask, only slightly curious. By now, you've gotten used to the fact that Hyunjin would react the same way to seeing a cute puppy video as he would finding out about some terrible news.

“A friend just texted me,” he says, still in shock.

“Okay? What did they say?”

Hyunjin looks up at you for a moment, down at his phone, then back up at you.

“ChanandHayoonbrokeup,” he says in a rush, before wincing, clearly afraid of what your reaction is going to be.

“What?” You can't believe your ears.

“Chan and Hayoon, apparently they broke up this afternoon. Someone heard them shouting at each other.”

You put down your pencil slowly, not sure what to think.

“Do you know why?”

“Someone said that they heard that yesterday, Heeyeon and Yikyung broke up because Yikyung cheated on her. I think it must be related,” Hyunjin says quietly.

“Oh.”

“I think there's pictures or a video out there, I haven't seen anything yet though,” Hyunjin continues on, starting to get excited while typing away on his phone. 

“Oh,” you say again, at a loss for actual words.

“Right before the holidays too, that's so-” Hyunjin cuts himself off when he looks up and sees you frozen in place. “Y/n, are you okay? Sorry, I'm sure it's a lot to process-”

“No, it's fine.” You force a smile. “I just- I think I have to go home now.”

“Y/n-”

“Really, it's okay. I just forgot that I have something to do. At home. Sorry.”

Hyunjin stares at you with eyes filled with something akin to pity, but doesn't say anything else. You try to ignore it as you hurriedly grab your things and leave.

—

A few days later you're packing up your bags in preparation to go home for the winter break when you hear a knock at your door. You weren't expecting anybody, but there's a few friends that you have that like to show up unannounced. 

You're not prepared to open the door and find Chan standing behind it.

He looks terrible. He's wearing a huge hoodie and his hair is tucked away behind a beanie, but nothing can hide the way that his eyes are swollen and his skin is lacking its usual colour. You can only guess that he hasn't been able to eat or sleep much judging from the gauntness of his face and dark circles.

“Chan,” you say carefully. “What are you doing here?”

“I'm sorry,” he says with a hoarse voice. “I was wrong.”

“Ah, Hayoon.”

“You heard?” he asks, face crumpling a little at the mention of his ex.

“It's-” You pause for a moment, trying to figure out how to put it delicately. "Someone mentioned it to me.”

“You must hate me.” Chan laughs humourlessly. “I know that I do. I was such a fool for not trusting you. I just didn't want to believe that she would do that to me. Stupid, I know. I'm really sorry that I said all those things to you, that I avoided you as if that would change the truth.”

For months, you've been waiting, hoping that Chan would come back to you and apologise. But actually hearing it isn't as satisfying as you thought. In fact, you don't really feel anything at all.

“I want to make it up to you,” Chan says earnestly. “Are you free? We can go for a meal and catch up. I missed you.”

“Uhm,” you say, not quite sure how to respond. You don't want to say yes, but you're scared to lose this opportunity.

“Actually, she's busy,” Hyunjin says. He steps out from behind Chan and wraps an arm around your waist possessively, nudging you behind him in the process. “I think it would be best if you leave.”

Normally you hate it when other people talk for you, but right now you're grateful that Hyunjin appeared. You're not even sure why he's here, although you mentioned that this was your last day on campus, the two of you didn't have plans to hang out.

“Oh.” Chan falters. “Are you two… together?”

“And if we are?” Hyunjin asks challengingly. You've never seen him this defensive before. “Frankly, it's none of your business. I'm tired of listening to your half-hearted apologies that are months too late and I'm pretty sure that Y/n isn't interested in them either.”

“Y/n?” Chan pleads.

“Hyunjin's right, I think that you should go,” you say from where you're still hidden behind Hyunjin. You're glad that you don't have to look him in the eyes. “I can't- I'm heading home today. I have to pack before my train leaves this afternoon.”

“Right,” Chan says thickly. “Sorry. I- I'm sorry, Y/n.”

You lean into Hyunjin's back for support, squeezing your eyes shut as you hear Chan's footsteps trail away. You don't open them for a long time, even when you feel Hyunjin turn around and wrap his arms around you. Instead, you just focus on the steady thump of Hyunjin's heartbeat and try to remember how to breathe.

read it on ao3 | masterlist

[cllightning81]

Academic Change

Summary : Everything's changing and the only way you know how to deal with it is by crying. Ollie's there to help though

Pairing/s: Oliver Bearman x Reader

Word Count : 0.8k

Masterlist

Oliver Bearman Masterlist

Want to be included in my tag list? Click HERE

A/N : Oh, how I needed an Ollie last night when this exact situation hit me.

It had reached a new academic year, but this year was different. You've finished high school and are now on your way to university. Ollie was signing with Haas, which meant his life was about to get more difficult. However, the worst part about it all was your best friend was moving away to go to university. 

You’d heard the horror stories about best friends that move away and slowly just lose connection until it was like there was never a friendship there in the first place. With all the change that was happening over the next six months, you could feel the anxiety kicking in. 

Ollie was back home for the break between Monza and Baku and you couldn’t be more grateful because during that break you had to say bye to your best friend and it was worse than Ollie leaving almost every week. 

She understood you in a way that no one else could, there were millions of inside jokes that would be shared between you, inappropriate jokes that would have strangers or other people complaining about but that was your friendship. 

It wasn’t until you were lying in bed blocking out the neighbours party that it really hit you. Noah Kahan’s ‘You’re Gonna Go Far’ playing into your ears as the words suddenly hit more than they ever had before. 

Before you knew it, the tears had started falling down your face as the panic set in that actually she was packing up her car and being wherever she was. You’d tried not to cry for months about her leaving, but suddenly, everything was just far too much. 

Ollie who was lying next to you in bed also blocking out the neighbours party with his own earphones in except this time scrolling on tiktok glanced over at you instantly spotting the tear tracks that had been on your face as you swapped from your normal playlist to your sad playlist needing to just let all your feelings out. 

His arms wrapped around your body, pulling you closer to him as he ran a comforting hand over your back in an attempt to help calm you down however you were too deep into your crying session by now. 

Soon Ollie figured you’d been crying enough and took your phone swapping over to some ‘relaxing sounds’ that in reality just made you want to use the bathroom but you didn’t have the energy to fight him. 

His hand gently pulled your wrist closer to him as he messed about with your smartwatch to start the breathing exercises that were programmed in by whatever company you’d previously bought it from. As you followed the instructions from the watch, you could feel the anxiety of losing your best friend leaving your body and your heart rate dropping back down to normal. 

Ollie sighed, letting you remove your earphones and place your phone on the bedside table before pulling you back into his body 

“I know it’s hard, darling. Trust me, I know, except I was the one leaving everyone behind. I know it from both points of view, and you just need to remember that what you have won’t disappear overnight. You’ll meet new people on your course even if it’s a small course and you’ll never forget about your memories with her. I know your anxiety is through the roof right now, and you don’t deal well with change, but remember I’ll always be here. Even if I’m in Italy or Australia. She’ll always be there whether she’s ten minutes away by bus or half an hour by train” Ollie took a breath, pushing some hair out your face and wiping stray tears from your face 

“Change is hard, and it’ll always be hard for you because that’s just who you are, but I love you for it and remember you’re the first from your family ever to go to university. That’s an achievement. You’re also doing a medical degree technically. I love you” He smiled, and you nodded 

“I love you too. Thank you” Ollie nodded, pressing his lips against yours. 

Everything was changing, and as hard as that was to admit, unfortunately, change was always going to happen in life, and although your facetimes were starting to become irregular, they were still happening. 

No matter what happened in the next few months, at least you always had the memories that you’d created over the past three years at high school. Because you’d left all those friend groups that turned out not to be right, and now you had your best friend. 

It was going to work out, and Ollie knew that after a couple of weeks you’d understand that. 

“Come on time for some ice cream” Ollie hummed, getting out of bed and throwing you over his shoulder, causing you to giggle and cling on for dear life. 

Sitting you down on the counter in the kitchen, Ollie raided the freezer, handing you the carton of ice cream with a spoon as he told Alex to play songs from both your childhoods. After all, much like your best friend, he knew how to make you happy. 

And to quote Lauv “The story never ends”

Coming Soon

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[stevesgother]

Little Red Lighthouse - S.H

Pairing - Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

Warnings - exes to lovers, second chance romance, angst, slow burn, hurt/comfort, idiots in love, so much pining, cursing, alcohol & drug use, mental health themes

WC - 1.3k

AN - this was originally gonna be a super long oneshot, but in typical emma fashion I'm making it into another mini series

Divider by the amazing @strangergraphics <3

The Alcott. That was your favorite bar in Hawkins; and it was all you could think about sitting outside this shitty bar in Chicago. A mere few hours from home, and yet entirely too far. Just having finished school; it was an education completely orchestrated by your parents. A college you didn’t want to attend, a degree you had no enthusiasm for.

This was how you seemed to be spending most of your days post-undergrad: sulking and ruminating. Everything you could’ve had, but don’t.

–

“Steve, this is insane. That’s like a 15 foot drop!” 

You say as you peer over the bridge, shivering slightly in just your underclothes. It was only the cusp of Spring, the weather in Indiana hardly what you would consider “warm”.

“Oh c’mon. You said you would!” He barked a laugh.

“I told my mother that if you jumped off a bridge that I would too as a hypothetical.” You deadpan, even though a smile still tugs the corners of your mouth.

He looked lovely, always did. Moles adorning his cheeks, scattering their way down his back and into his boxers where your vision couldn’t reach. He shot you a grin only reserved for you.

“3..2..1 JUMP!”

“Wait!-”

Steve gripped your hand, pulling you down with him into the icy water below the bridge. Unable to decipher if the sinking feeling in your gut was from the rapid fall of his skin on yours. The shock of the bitterly cold water knocked the wind out of you.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” His smile gleaming at you. Water dripped from his eyelashes, beading on the apples of his cheeks.

 “It’s freezing!” you gasp as you surface. He starts to grip your shoulders in his warm hands, then pauses. A sudden nervousness settled and he was staring. You nervously wondered if there was something else in the water with you both. He never broke his stare. Your best friend for a million lifetimes, beautiful as ever. Looking at you as if you hung the moon just for him.

“I think I'm in love with you.”

–

When Steve finally peeled open his eyes and glanced at the blinking red of the alarm clock it read ‘3:00 PM’. His breath tasted of stale liquor as he slowly rose from his unmade bed. Skull pounding, he blindly reached for the painkillers he had made a habit of keeping on his nightstand, for afternoons like this.

Your old friend group planned a ‘welcome home’ party in anticipation for your return to Hawkins. Where you had gone to college out of state and made a new life for yourself, Steve hadn’t seemed to be able to keep his ahead above the violent current that was the trauma he endured here, in your hometown.

As you rested on the train back to Indiana, walkman in hand, you felt an air of nausea.You had started to regret leaving your car at your parents house 4 years ago; unsure whether the knot you felt in your gut was the result of motion sickness, or the thought of having to face him again.

Admittedly you were excited to see your friends again. You hadn’t come home for Christmas, for Thanksgiving, not even for summer breaks – always opting to stay as far away from that living nightmare as possible. You told yourself little lies. That it wasn’t because Steve Harrington still resided there, and with him, everything you lost. Everything you know you can never get back.

The air in Steve’s office was stiff and smelled of stale coffee. Robin sits in a less than lady-like position across from him in a chair unofficially designated for her. A plaque that reads “Chief” sat crooked between them from where Robin had set down the paper bag containing their lunch.

“You’re going to have to face her at some point, Steve.” Her voice snaps him out of his dissociative state.

“Yeah, I got it.” He sighs irritably, all traces of enthusiasm drained from his tone.

“I’m just saying,” she starts, “it's been 4 years. I’m sure she’s moved on, man. No bad blood.” It’s meant to be reassuring, but she doesn’t understand that that's entirely the problem. He gives her a skeptical stare. “Look, we’ll all be there. You have a ton of buffer people. Just stop by for a few minutes? For me?” The childish pout she gives in an attempt to guilt-trip is enough to push him over the edge.

“Rob- okay, fine. Stop making that face. For an hour. Not a second longer.” He points a finger at her, not unkindly.

–

As your car crunches over the gravel in the parking lot of Robin’s apartment complex, you can’t help but notice it’s already filled with cars despite you being perfectly on time. All the windows you knew belonged to her unit were lit a glowing yellow behind sheer curtains, allowing you glimpses of mingling silhouettes. You wonder briefly if this was intentional, or if in your never-ending brain fog, you managed to jumble the times.

A quick glance around the lot reveals that your friends still have the same cars they did all those years ago. Jonathan’s Ford LTD, Nancy’s Volkswagen Cabrio, and an achingly familiar maroon BMW 733i. Your heart jumps to your throat when you see it, accompanied by a sharp twist of betrayal in your chest as you don’t recall Robin ever mentioning he would be here. You suppose you can’t blame her.

You stop to take several deep breaths at the front door. You can hear the bass of an old, classic tune bumping inside and you try to time your breathing with it. In three, hold three, out three, and repeat. You raise your fist to knock before thinking it silly, so you just give the knob a tentative twist and walk in.

The room erupts in ‘Hey!’’s and ‘There she is!’’s. It’s a relief to realize they don’t hate your guts, even though they’ve always made it clear that they don’t. A nauseating guilt settles over you as you’re reminded of how long you’ve left them with barely any word from you at all– the pain of this town and everything that happened in it just too much to bear; even if they were your best friends.

Back then, talking to them sounded like long, mucousy vines that strangled and trapped. It sounded like the bitter cold and emptiness of your hometown mirrored just beneath your feet. It sounded like watching chunks of flesh be ripped from your boyfriend’s skin. It sounded like his screams for your help and you just couldn’t– you needed time.

Now though, as they wrap you in hugs and you smell the homey scent of your best friends apartment, it feels less like then and more like now. Over Nancy’s shoulder, slightly obscured by her usually wild curls, you catch the eye of the one person not dogpiling you, and fight the grimace threatening to surface. You don’t hate Steve, not by any sense of the word– you just can’t look at his stupid, beautiful face without remembering what you did to him.

When everyone disperses, satisfied with their greetings, you can really take in Steve’s appearance in front of you. The years haven’t been unkind to him, but he looks tired. Day old, maybe two, stubble shadows his usually bright face. He fills out the red sweater and light wash Levi’s he wears nicely. You think he’ll always have that boyish Harrington charm, but he looks more like a man than when you left him.

You walk towards him hesitantly.

“Hey.”

“Hi.”

[flemingsfreckles]

Physio’s Daughter

Jessie Fleming x Physio!Reader

Preview: Reader is following in her mother’s footsteps in becoming a physiotherapist and gets the opportunity to spend the afternoon with the Canadian women’s soccer team.

Warnings: none

WC: 3.7k

A/N: this is going to be a few parts

You couldn’t believe you were attending ‘bring your kid to work day’ with your mom as a 22 year old but here you were, in the car on the way to her work.

“Are you sure I’m not too old to be coming with you?” You questioned your mom.

“It’ll be just like going to your clinical rotations. Plus you can put it on your resume, so it's really just helping you.” That’s how your mom had tried to convince you that you’d have fun coming to work with her. “Plus I talked with my boss, he said as of now we have an extra spot on the physio team to take someone to the Olympics, if you do well today, maybe it could be you.”

“Wouldn’t you want someone who's more qualified, not just a student?” You were in the process of obtaining your certification as a physiotherapist. You had finished your bachelor’s degree and were in the middle of your post graduate athletic therapy program.

“We have all the staff we need, they think bringing on someone young might be good. The players might like having someone closer to their age, not just all 40 and 50 year olds on their staff. Plus you’re plenty qualified, we have students in and out of the facility all the time.”

As a kid you always tagged along with your mom, you didn't have much of a choice, having a single mom who worked late hours in secondary schools meant your evenings were spent in her training room or on the sidelines of games. The older you got, the less you went with your mom, opting to stay home or spend time with friends instead of accompanying her at work. When you moved out to go to university you had chosen to follow in your Mom’s footsteps, intending to become a physiotherapist as well. At the same time you moved out, your Mom took on a new job, one that allowed her to travel more, a job with the Canada’s Women’s Soccer Team.

It wasn’t that you didn’t want to spend the day with your mom, you were interested in seeing her work, it was more that you knew you'd be the oldest “kid” who was at her work, a lot of her other staff had either young children or kids that had moved away and were on with their own lives.

The ride to the training facility was short, you got out of the car, and walked into the front door. You followed your mom around the facility, having no idea where to go. She walked you down and around various hallways, saying hello to the other staff who passed with their small children. You just would give a polite hello and a wave before continuing down the hall.

It was a weird feeling, walking into a room of players you recognized from TV, players who were well known across the country and the world, and yet they greeted your Mom with a hello and questions about her weekend, as if they were friends.

“That is my daughter, she thinks she's too old to be here but she's studying to be a physio too so I figured I'd bring her here and get some free labor.” You hear your mom joking with the two players standing in front of her, she's pointing at you over her shoulder and the two players who you recognized to be Janine Beckie and Ashley Lawrence were looking over at you. You politely wave and move over in their direction.

“Hi.” Not knowing what to say to them, you just keep it short.

They both introduce themselves to you, you assume just being polite of them, it would be hard to not know who they were. One of the other physios comes in, taking Ashley to get taped, your mom taking Janine to work on her knee. Not sure what to do with yourself you just stand back, as if you were back to being a shy 6 year old in a new environment hiding behind your mom. You watch your mom work, she moves effortlessly, doing tasks in seconds that would take you minutes. You always admired your Mom at her work but you had a new appreciation now that you had begun school and realized how much work and time it took to learn everything.

Players come and go, getting various treatments, keeping the staff busy. You watch around, seeing the rest of the staff, how they work with the players, how they all seemed so relaxed and at ease.

“Hi Jessie, how are you, what do you need today?” Your mom looks past you toward the door where Jessie Fleming had walked in. Obviously you knew who she was, her olympic heroics from many years ago making her a Canadian household name. On top of her soccer talent that drew your attention as a kid, her appearance definitely didn't hurt. You had always found her pretty, a silly little school girl crush when you were younger watching her on TV as she played as a teenager, something that you had forgotten about over the years but her standing in front of you brought it all back up.

“Hi, I’m doing well. Can I just get my calf worked out? I’ve been having some tightness.” She looked at your mom, a polite smile across her face, she pointed at the empty table as she asked.

“Can you handle that?” You realize your mom is looking at you, asking you to help with Jessie as the rest of the staff is held up with other players. She’s asking you to help

“Um, yeah, sure.” You weren’t going to say no, plus you could handle a simple massage.

“Jessie, this is my daughter, she’s a physio student and plenty qualified to massage your calf, I promise.” You roll your eyes at your mom’s comment, feeling embarrassed that she has to explain that you’re able to help. You wash your hands and walk over to the table Jessie had sat down on.

“Hi, I’m Jessie.” She introduces herself, her hand extended for a handshake, you can't help but let out a small laugh at the fact that she of all people is introducing herself.

“I know who you are.” Your hand meets hers taking her handshake and you quickly introduce yourself to her. Her hand is soft but her handshake is firm, it only lasts a second before you pull back, pointing to her legs.

“Which calf?” You look at her. She points to her left before taking off her sock and she rolls over onto her stomach shifting up the table so that just her foot is hanging off the edge. You grab lotion and rub it into your hands before placing your hands slowly onto Jessie’s leg. You take a few passes of your hands over her leg before starting to dig into the muscle. It doesn't take you long to find the knot that is resting in her leg, focusing on it. You feel Jessie clench her muscle and slightly pull her leg away. You quickly lighten the pressure you were putting on her and you look at the direction of her face. You see a small grimace across her face.

“Are you good?” The last thing you want is to hurt the captain of the team, that probably wouldn't go over well with anyone.

“Yeah it's just sore. I’ve had some previous injury with it.” You knew that, you knew about most of the players' previous injuries, they were publicly announced anyway and you liked to keep up with your mom on what she was doing at work.

“Sorry.” Not sure if it's appropriate to apologize, you do it anyway.

“Oh don’t be, it’s never been a huge injury so I’m lucky. Unless you were saying sorry about the soreness, but then don’t worry, it’s sort of a good hurt I guess.” She stumbles a bit with their words, looking back at you over her shoulder. With her confirmation that the pain wasn’t bad, you return your pressure to her leg, working your fingers deep into her skin.

“Is she doing alright Jessie?” The voice of your Mom comes from behind you, you turn to see her walking up toward you, finished with the other athletes.

“She might be better than you.” Jessie laughs joking with your mom. “No but seriously she's doing great.”

“I taught her well then.” Your mom gives you a pat on the shoulder before walking away and moving to a desk to do some paperwork.

You finish up with Jessie’s calf, letting her know she should be good to go, the knot being worked out. She stands up with a smile and thanks you for the help. She uses your name when she thanks you which causes a small blush to come across your cheeks. You can't keep your eyes off of her as she walks out to head to the field. When she turns the corner and out of your sight you shake your head, trying to clear your mind as you feel the small childhood crush come crawling back up.

You clean up the table you had been working on, putting the lotion away and wiping down the table with sanitizer. Moving over to where your mom was working, she was completing reports for each of the players who had come in for treatment, she passed them to you to file once she’s completed with them. When the paperwork is done you follow her out to the pitch. You find yourself sitting on the bench, watching as the players work through drills, your mom occasionally going to chat with the coaching staff or other physios.

You couldn't help but watch Jessie, watching how effortlessly she made moving the ball look, how much power and control she had on the ball, it was fascinating. On a couple of occasions you found yourself admiring her physique a little too much, watching as her muscles twitch with every movement. You also started to notice she was favoring her weight on her right leg the longer practice went on.

“Mom.” You get your mom’s attention, not wanting to make the call yourself on if Jessie’s movements were unusual. “Does Fleming usually favor her right leg?”

“What?” She moves over closer to you, looking out to the field in the direction of Jessie. You both watch as Jessie takes another pass, moving upfield with the ball. “Oh, no she doesn't, I mean she prefers her right foot, but not like that.”

At the next water break you see your mom sitting in front of Jessie, hand on her calf, you watch as they talk about your mom maneuvering her leg. When the team moves back to the field, the players and coaches bring out their kids, letting them join in on games. Jessie stays sitting, now talking with your mom and the coach. She then stands up, your mom following her in your direction.

“Can you take her inside? I want to be overcautious and treat her for a calf strain, heat pack, use the TENS unit, then have her roll out, ice and tape.” Your mom throws a laundry list of tasks at you.

“Of course.” You stand up, grabbing your water and phone from next to you before heading in the direction of the physio room.

“Sorry you're getting stuck with me again.” You apologize to Jessie, trying to make small talk with the girl and also hoping she doesn’t feel like she’s getting stuck with just the student again.

“Oh, I don't mind. I wasn't really joking earlier when I said you did a better job than your mom.” She gives you a smile, you feel the flutter in your stomach. Her praise is nice, but it's the smile that she's giving you that makes your stomach flip, it’s gentle and friendly. “Don't take that the wrong way, your mom is excellent, just it was different, you were more thorough maybe, I’m not sure, it was just different.” Jessie rambles.

“That's probably because I’m more nervous about messing up than they are.” You’re honest, you were doing everything to the exact standard, following the expectations you had been taught in class, yet to develop your own style.

“You’re nervous?” She seems surprised.

“I mean, wouldn’t you be, being brought into a professional sports team and being asked to help that team's captain while you're still a student? I mean I guess you’re usually level headed, penalty machine and all.” Thankfully you have half a brain to not throw in that the captain being attractive was definitely adding to your nerves.

“Oh believe me, I was nervous for those penalties but I’ve always thought nerves are good, they show you care. How much more school do you have?” She continues with the small talk.

“Just another semester. And then licensing tests, but just a semester of school.”

“That's exciting, do you know what you are going to do after that?” You make your way into the training room, holding the door open for Jessie to walk through.

“I don’t know, probably work at some secondary school to start, work my way up to bigger teams, I'll have to see what options I have. Go ahead and sit up on the table.” You point at the table at the end of the room as you move over to where the heat packs were stored. Jessie is sitting on the table, watching you when you turn around. You lift her foot, placing the heat pack on the table before placing her calf down on top of it.

“Is it still just sore or is it more sharp now?” Turning the conversation back to a more professional topic away from the small talk about yourself.

“Just sore, feels like a sore muscle.”

“You know, it's nice to actually meet you finally.” When you give her a confused look, she continues “I just mean your mom talks a lot about you.”

“Oh that's embarrassing.” You regret saying it as soon as it comes out of your mouth, you loved your mom, you know you shouldn’t be embarrassed about her talking about you.

“No, it's actually really sweet, I hope my parents talk about me even half as much as your mom talks about you. She’s so proud of you. You're her world.”

“Yeah, I know, it was always just the two of us. I know she misses me when I’m at school, I feel bad leaving her sometimes.” You look down, then realize youre probably giving way too much information to someone who likely doesn't care. “Sorry, I don't mean to talk about my personal stuff.”

“No problem, I don't mind, it's nice talking to you,” she quickly corrects her sentence “to someone closer to my age.”

You pull up a stool and sit with Jessie while she uses the heat pack. When the heat pack starts to cool off you slide over and start digging around for the TENS unit your mom recommended. When you’ve opened your third cabinet and had no luck finding it Jessie speaks up.

“They keep the TENS over there.” She points across the room to a different cabinet. You push up off the stool and move over to where she pointed, opening a drawer and finding it quickly.

“Sorry, I obviously don’t know where anything is, I didn't have time to really get acclimated this morning.” You feel embarrassed, already feeling inferior being the student but now being clueless and having to have Jessie tell you where everything is.

“That’s alright.” She reassures you. You move back and attach the pads onto her calf, turning the machine on low and handing her the controls and tell her to leave it on for 10 minutes. She messes with the controls of a second before setting down the remote and slightly leaning back, her arms propped behind her. Not knowing what to do with yourself you stand up and move over to the other tables where rolls of tape, bandaids, scissors, and various other tools used by the trainers are askew. You tidy up, finding where things belong through your own searching.

“So what do you do outside of school?” You had gotten used to the silence that Jessie’s voice breaks.

“Well school takes up most of my time, I wish I could travel more, I miss going to new places, seeing new things. But unfortunately school turns me into a pretty boring person.”

“Maybe you’ll get a travel experience this summer eh?” You turn at her, you’re assuming she’s implying going with your mom to Paris for the Olympics. “Your mom mentioned she wanted you to come with the team.”

“Yeah she said something about it to me, I mean I’d have to have her boss, Mark, pick me, I think there’s a few people they’re looking at for the trip. She thinks it’ll be a good experience for me for future jobs. I know it would look good on a resume and all but I also don’t want to get the opportunity just because my mom is here.”

“If it means anything you have my vote, the other people have been boring.” Jessie quickly says. “Sorry that’s not what I meant. I just meant, you’ve been the best one they’ve tried out. You care the most, at least it seems like you do. Plus you’re easy to talk to, the rest were too caught up on work, some of them stressed me out just being around them. And no one else was as observant. Your mom mentioned you were the one to see I was putting my weight off center, that’s why it’s important to have fresh eyes.”

“Yeah, I just happened to be watching, I get told I’m observant a lot.” You move your hands to take the TENS unit off of her gently peeling the pads from her skin. You move to grab her the foam ball across the room, tossing it in her direction. Jessie tried to catch it, it bounces off her hands, into her face and then onto the floor.

“Oh my god sorry, I didn’t mean to throw it that hard.” You throw your hands in her direction apologizing. Moving quickly across the room you pick up the ball where it had rolled before gently placing it in her hand.

“Nope, that was my fault. There’s a reason I play a foot sport.” She laughs. Her laugh is beautiful, it fills the room momentarily. It makes you feel light inside.

Just as she moves to the floor to begin rolling out her calf, the training room door opens and in comes the loud crowd of her teammates. They move in all directions across the room, some moving to the ice bath, some moving to grab heat packs. Some move to take off tape, tossing it in the trash. It’s loud, conversations in every direction and you’re quickly swept away, your arm being pulled by your mom as she moves you over to where the ice cooler was. You’re instructed to make ice bags for the players who want them and help them wrap the ice wherever they want it. It’s an easy task but it takes you away from Jessie, no longer having the quiet privacy of the training room.

You wrap arms and legs and shoulders and backs and feet with ice. You can’t help but keep glancing at Jessie, she was still rolling her calf, chatting with her teammates as they walked by. On a couple instances you caught her looking back at you, she’d give a quick smile before looking away. You finish the last player requesting ice and when you look up Jessie is now sitting on the table with Mark, he’s taping her calf. A small part of you feels jealous, which is insanely stupid you tell yourself, she’s his player not yours, he’s the head trainer, you’re not even one, it should be him doing the work.

Only a few minutes later, Jessie hops off the table, giving you a wave and a shout of thanks before leaving the room. Only staff remained, the rest of the players on their way home for the day. You finish cleaning up, asking your Mom a couple of times where everything belongs, making sure nothing gets put away in the wrong place.

It feels like time has flown by in the eight hours that you have been at the training center, before you know it you’re headed out to the car with your mom, the same way you came in this morning.

“Mark wanted to extend the offer for you to spend the rest of the summer here, and for the Olympics. He’s going to give you a call tomorrow, but he gave me a heads up. It can probably count as some clinical work for school, he said he’ll just have to get the paperwork sorted. Something about high praises from a certain team captain.” Your mom nudges you with her shoulder. You look at her and you can tell she’s being suggestive with her wording.

“What?” Your cheeks begin to flush slightly. “You’re the one who kept sticking her with me.”

“I know, I also know you had a little crush when you were younger.” She teases. You just roll your eyes, not wanting to give yourself away.

“Oh my god mom that was years ago, she’s not my type.” It was true, your dating history was littered with blonde preppy girls with terrible personalities, quite literally the opposite of Jessie. Hoping that fact would help your argument that you didn’t still have a crush on Jessie and it seemed to as your mom dropped the topic.

“I know honey, I’m only kidding you. You can drive, I’m tired.” She places the keys in your hand. You don’t mind driving, you turn back looking at the facility, realizing you could be spending your summer everyday here didn’t sound like too bad of an idea.

[violetrainbow412-blog]

Day 20: written but never sent

Masterlist flufftober 🎃

Reblog if you liked it!

Spencer greatly enjoyed handwriting. Electronic devices irritated him to no end, as he felt that typing on them was so impersonal and trivial. Handwriting required careful thought, reflecting desires and passions in the shape of the letters, and capturing feelings in the prose... everything written by hand represented something intimate, at least to him.

That’s why, when he got a pen pal, it was inevitable that he would start developing feelings. He had contacted you as part of a school assignment, as both of you were studying the same Ph.D. in linguistics, and one of the tasks was to analyze how different people express themselves in writing.

All he had was your name and address, the strictly necessary information to send a letter. He was the first to send one, sharing some details about himself, why he was pursuing the degree, the work he did, and how he would apply the knowledge he was acquiring.

He patiently waited for your response, which arrived a week later in a small brown paper envelope with a maroon stamp. Your letter didn’t seem like just a required response to fulfill the assignment. You sounded genuinely interested in what he had shared, and you addressed every point he had mentioned.

What surprised him the most was that at the end, you talked about books he had mentioned and ended with a question:

Have you read The Resilience of Language? It's a great book that could help you a lot. I highly recommend it! Best regards, nice to meet you.

There was a question at the end. The answer was no, Spencer hadn’t read that book. He could have simply stopped there, taking your recommendation and using your letter to complete his assignment. But something inside him wasn’t content to just end the communication there; he thought it would be rude not to offer a reply. So, as soon as he received your letter, he took one of his notebooks to write back.

Spencer used one of his gel pens with a fine tip and deep pigmentation. If someone were observing him, they could say that all these actions reflected a sense of importance: selecting the paper, his best pen, carefully crafting his handwriting—all of this added weight to the act.

He sent the letter, still unsure, but hopeful nonetheless. He was amazed when he arrived at the building and found another letter in his mailbox, with the same characteristics as the previous week.

A year had passed since then.

Every week, without fail, you exchanged letters. By now, he knew you better than he had ever known anyone, as the semi-anonymity provided an extra layer of trust for sharing everything that had happened during your week. You started by exchanging generalities, talking about books, and discussing the Ph.D. classes. Slowly, you began to share less trivial things: how the place where you lived was, your job, elements of your identity.

In recent months, you were writing to each other as if you were close friends.

My migraines have improved, in case you’re wondering, and this week at work has been less demanding than usual. We only handled a fairly light case (if you can even call it that in my line of work), and I had time to analyze some of the works you recommended. How’s everything going with that guy at work?

When Spencer finished, he hesitated about how to sign the letter. At first, he would send you his regards, write some polite expression, or simply wish you a good day. But now, he felt the need to sign off differently.

Affectionately, Spencer.

He didn’t think you would notice, just a gesture of the growing trust between you. He patiently waited for the postman to deliver your reply, and after several days, he eagerly read your words on the paper.

I’m disappointed about the guy. Turns out he’s a jerk, you know? Sometimes I wish I could meet someone who can genuinely love me, without focusing solely on the physical. Maybe it’s bold of me to say that, but I think you understand. I want a connection that comes from appreciating who I am, with someone who shares my interests, someone respectful, intelligent... but I won’t bore you with my romantic nonsense. The point is, I’m not dating anyone at the moment. I’m focusing on our Ph.D., haha. I hope you’re doing well, and I look forward to your reply!

However, he was quite surprised when he read the signature that followed your name.

Yours sincerely…

Had you signed that way in response to the dedication in his letter? Something felt strange within him, and his chest warmed with an unfamiliar feeling.

For a moment, he wondered if there was any possibility that he could meet the expectations of the special person you described, and when he realized he was imagining himself with you in that kind of scenario, he felt embarrassed.

It was ridiculous to think about. You didn’t even know each other, and you lived miles away, you were just friends who had taken a school assignment too far.

Time passed, and the signatures grew more affectionate, more personal… just like the content of the letters. It got to the point where he couldn’t deny it anymore: he was in love.

Though after realizing it, he spent a long time wondering what he should do with that feeling. Weeks passed before he came to a decision.

Spencer was returning from Maine when he decided to finally write to you. He was sitting on the plane, with his notebook in front of him, and his mind as blank as the page.

“What are you struggling to write, Reid?” Emily asked, sitting beside him “You’ve been staring at that notebook for ten minutes without the pen touching the paper.”

“It’s nothing,” he murmured, trying to downplay it. He didn’t want to talk about it, not with Emily, not with anyone.

A couple of hours later, with a pile of crumpled-up drafts beside him, he finally managed to write something:

I can’t start this letter without first telling you how much I’ve come to value our correspondence. For over a year, our written conversations have become one of the most important constants in my life. Each week, I eagerly await your letters, and every one of them brings me a pause in the middle of my routine: a space of calm where our words connect in ways I never imagined possible. I’ve read and reread your letters so many times that, sometimes, I feel like I know them by heart. Even so, I always discover something new in your words: an idea that eluded me before, an emotion that makes more sense over time, or a reflection that sheds new light on my own experience. Although we’ve never met in person, I feel like I know you better than many people I speak to face-to-face. Is that strange? Maybe it is, but the truth is that there’s something about the depth of our conversations that transcends physical distance. All this time, I’ve tried to rationalize what you mean to me, but there are things that can’t be measured or analyzed logically, no matter how hard I try. What I want to tell you —and what has taken me so long to write—is that I’ve fallen in love with you. At first, I wasn’t sure what this feeling was. I thought it was just admiration or gratitude for the friendship we’ve cultivated, but with each letter, with each shared thought, I realized it was something deeper. I love you, not just for what you share with me, but for who you are. For the way you see the world, with such clarity and empathy. For your insatiable curiosity, for your unique way of finding beauty in the smallest details. I don’t want this confession to make you uncomfortable or push you away. I’ll understand if you don’t feel the same, and I’ll consider myself lucky just to have known you in this way. But I couldn’t go on without being honest with you. I hope that, whatever your response may be, we can remain the same two friends who have shared so much through these pages. With all my love, and praying to be able to be yours, Spencer.

He kept the written words as if they were a treasure, feeling his heart race every time he thought about that secret tucked away in an envelope on his desk. Unfortunately, that letter never saw the light of day, all because of his fear of losing who might have been the best friend he had ever had in his life.

[totalswag]

graduation - RAFE CAMERON

authors note we love soft!rafe thats all i gotta say

summary rafe's is supposed to attend his girlfriends graduation but told her he couldn't make it last minute due to work stuff. rafe finishes his work stuff early and decides to surprise his girlfriend after the ceremony with flowers.

warnings crying, cussing, wholesome content

It’s graduation

You are officially finished with school for the rest of your life. On to the next phase of your life. Everything you've done to get here has paid off. All those examinations you studied so hard for, to the point of crying and wanting to quit, paid off in the end.

The second you stopped onto campus as a freshman, you couldn't wait to get your degree and graduate from college. It’s been your dream to go to Chapel Hill University since high school.

Your entire family gathered to see you walk across the stage and receive your diploma. You were glad to see them all here on this special occasion. In a way, seeing your loved ones cheer you on as you walk across the stage in your gown and cap, receiving your diploma and degree is a great pat on the back.

There is one person in particular you wish was attending.

Your boyfriend, Rafe.

“Is Rafe coming?” Y/F/N asks, nudging your shoulder. 

Y/F/N met freshman year, you lived in the same dorm. A week after knowing each other, you instantly clicked. You two live in a two bedroom apartment near campus. She’s that type of friend you know you can count on no matter what.

“He said work got super busy and that his dad needed him to stay to help out” you sigh, “he wishes he could be here though '' choking on your words but you take a deep breath to calm yourself down.

When Rafe told you on the phone he wasn’t gonna make it due to work your whole world came crashing down in one second. You know how much Rafe takes work seriously– it's a family business he needs to take care of. 

Y/F/N pouts, wrapping her left arm around your shoulder, pulling you into a hug to give you some sort of comfort. 

“I bet he wishes he was here too, Y/N.” Y/F/N knows how much you want him to be here and watch you walk the stage. 

Before you could answer, the president announced everyone to stand up to receive their awards and degrees.

This is finally it.

After the ceremony, you walked around the large crowd of families to find yours. You took a bunch of pictures with your friends before you went over to your family. Your mom texted you where everyone was at.

When you found your family, you walked over with the biggest smile on your face holding your diploma in the air, moving it up and down.

Everyone came over to you and congratulated you. In so many ways, the love you received from your family warmed your heart. You were also given flowers and balloons. There were numerous pictures taken. 

Multiple conversations between the family started happening.

Your older brother and his wife arrived, followed by their two-month-old daughter, your niece. Your brother handed her to you. She wore a onesie with writing that said, My auntie graduated  with flowers all throughout. For the photo, you held her by her armpits, pulling her face to yours and kissing her nose. 

"Ugh, I love being your auntie!" You exclaimed as you cradled her.

She looked up at you with a grin, making you smile even more.

Your mom had her phone in her hand, ready to take a picture of you with the flowers and your diploma. Your mom is a photographer, she takes amazing pictures and usually takes pictures of you for your instagram sometimes.

Everyone gathered around to take pictures of you as well.

So much was going on that you didn't notice Rafe standing behind you with a bouquet of flowers and a card he bought for you.

You could feel a male present standing behind you. You smelt a familiar cologne, Rafe’s cologne. 

"Congratulations, baby," he quietly said, catching you off guard.

Your eyes had blown out of their sockets. Your heart was racing at a hundred miles per hour. You spun around, putting your arms around Rafe and pulled him closer, unable to let go.

Rafe was the only one who mattered right now.

Tears began to build up in the corners of your eyes.

“How are you even here right now? I thought you couldn’t make it today” you cried, kissing his face, laughing.

“Well, I was able to get the important stuff done and decided to surprise you” Rafe explained, holding your waist.

"Did you see me-" you are interrupted by him, "yes, baby, I was there to see you walk the stage."

"I believe these are for you, my pretty lady," he says as he hands you a gorgeous bouquet of your favorite flowers. 

"Thank you Rafe, these are beautiful."

"I'm so proud of you and everything you've done to get to where you are now." "This is definitely a proud boyfriend moment," you sigh, then laugh at his final remarks.

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[dilfl0v3rss]

basketball player!ony who takes his career very seriously. he was the star in high school when you met him and he is the star now at his big name d1 college.

basketball player!ony who’s been scouted by many nba teams, but refuses to go into the draft until he gets his degree. you and him have been together since freshman year of high school and he doesn’t plan on changing that no matter how much recognition he gets.

basketball player!ony who is about 6’5, playing as his schools starting point guard. he averages about twenty-six points a game and wears the number 3. sometimes basketball player!ony can get very hard on himself when he doesn’t perform the way he wants to and he always needs you there to help. whether it be getting his rebounds or watching his previous film, basketball player!ony always looked to you first.

basketball player!ony who begged you to go to the same college as him, not thinking he would survive being away from you and you didn’t mind because you felt the exact same way.

basketball player!ony who has to shoot down different girls everyday. constantly throwing away love letters and gifts from the many girls on campus. sometimes splitting the candy he’d get with you.

basketball player!ony who is rarely seen without you unless he is at practice or a game and during those games he always made sure you are seated in the nearest seat to the bench. throwing you a quick wink with a smirk when he’d make a tough shot.

basketball player!ony who’d always bring you up in his interviews after games.

“onyankopon what a great game tonight. you did spectacular ending with thirty-seven points, twelve assists and eleven rebounds. how does it feel to be such a big asset to the team at such a young age?”

“uhhm i just come out here and perform like i normally do. i love this game and it’d be disrespectful of me to not play at my full potential as often as i can. i also wanna give a shout-out to my beautiful girlfriend y/n. there have been nights where it’s just me and her watching film, breaking each game down to make me better. i wouldn’t have made it this far without you mama. i love you”

he’d say, looking straight into the camera as if you were watching him through it. (the interview went viral btw)

basketball player!ony who has you wear his chains for each game since he can’t wear jewelry while playing, not letting you take them off until the two of you got to his dorm room.

“fuck keep ridin’ it just like that baby.” he groaned as you bounced up and down on your boyfriends dick, pretty gold chains dangling from your neck as you slowed your pace. he had just finished a game and needed to get you home immediately after seeing a random from the crowd try to flirt with you, snatching your attention away from him while he was killing his opponents. one of his favorite things about you was that you loved basketball just as much as he did, watching every game without batting an eye.

you gave your boyfriend your full attention and even gave him criticism to show for how much you were paying attention. the fact that some random nigga can snatch that attention from him boiled his blood. his legs were tired and already getting sore from the game as he lay comfortably under you. “daddy m’tireddd” you have been going at it for almost an hour, but basketball player!ony knew you were a good girl and wouldn’t stop until he said to. “ion care. keep that same pace until i nut in you”

basketball player!ony who also let you pick his jersey number.

it was the night after graduation when he had your legs pressed up to your chest on the bed. basketball player!ony fed you deep strokes as he talked to you about your future with him. “how many babies you want daddy t’give you?” he groaned in your ear while pushing himself deeper. you moaned out loud as you felt him kiss your cervix, eyes rolling back as you were slowly going in and out of awareness. “c’mon mama i need an answer it’s important”

you had no idea why he was so eager for an answer but you knew he wasn’t going to let you cum until you told him. he let go of your legs and held both of your hands in his. staring you in the eyes as he slowed his speed and deepened his strokes. you were falling more in love with this man everyday. “i know you like that, but i need you to give me an answer or daddy gon have to stop.” your back arched off the bed as your boyfriend hit a particularly sensitive spot in you. he knew you were close, but he really needed you to answer his question. he stopped completely, staying inside of you as he waited for a reply. you mewled, upset at the lack of friction. “i know mama i know. just tell me how many and i’ll fuck you ‘til you wet this bed up.”

“t-three.” you whispered. it was barely audible, but he heard you, asking again for clarification. “speak up baby” “t-threeee ohh myyy goddd daddy waitttt” you freed one of your hands before pawing at his stomach. he pounded into you at a quick pace, drawing your orgasm out quickly as you spasmed around his dick. “and ima take care of you and them when i go pro i swear. they not gon have to worry about a damn thing and ima wear that number on my back to remind the both of us who we doin this shit for” the two of you came together, holding each other as fatigue got the best of you and ushered the both of you to sleep. your boyfriend never forgot what he swore to do and kept up with it through college.

basketball player!ony never started a game without first kissing his three fingers and pressing them on his jersey. letting you know he always remembered his promise to you.

[silentscrying]

🎸 out of my mind ! 💿 track two: kowalski, status report

guitarist!ino x drummer!reader

summary: it's the annual battle of the bands at the fix, your college campus's iconic live music bar, and this year you're taking the stage as the drummer for indie rock group cursed technique. you know the competition is strong, but no part of you is ready for lead singer and guitarist takuma ino. you lock eyes at the edge of the stage, and something starts—something that might make you feel alive even more than the beat of the drums.

warnings: language, alcohol, mentions of drugs/drug dealing, toge bullying, unbearably cute dogs. || sfw. 9k words.

"I SHOULDN'T CUSS in this, right?"

It’s the day before the other four artists premiere their sets at Battle of the Bands, and you haven’t been home since six in the morning. You’re running on caffeine and spite and the pursuit of the story, parked on a high stool across the bar from the one and only Ieiri Shoko.

Toge leans on the counter beside you, opting to stand. He’s agreed to pay for the next snack run in return for you letting him be your partner. You both know you’re going to end up doing most of the writing, but you don’t really mind. Toge would if you asked him to, but you love this kind of thing in a way he just doesn’t. Plus, he’s better with a camera than you, and he’s taking photos tomorrow night.

You laugh, pulling out your phone to record. “You can say whatever you want as long as it’s honest. Be candid.”

“You might regret saying that!” Gojo calls from the back, and Shoko silences him with a glare.

“Are you coming or not?”

Gojo grins and finishes up whatever he’s putting away in the storage room, then strides out and leans his elbows on the counter.

“Do you mind if I record?” You point to the open voice memo app. “Makes it easier to quote you correctly.” You also just hate running interviews when you’re scribbling hand-written notes the whole time. You’d much rather have a genuine conversation and worry about the details later.

Shoko waves a hand airily. “No problem.”

“Absolutely,” Gojo says. “You can probably sell that for thousands.”

You set the phone on the counter, next to one of the tiny pumpkins scattered across it in celebration of the beginning of October. You and Toge bounce back and forth as you run through the standard start-of-interview checklist, having them spell out their names, getting their ages, hometowns, degrees, all that jazz. And then you launch into the stuff you really care about.

“So, you opened The Fix about ten years ago now, correct?”

Shoko nods. “Yeah, a little over two years after we graduated.”

You look at Gojo, whose eyes are even more alarmingly blue in the daylight. “And you were hired right away?”

“Utahime first, then me,” he nods. “Best for last, y’know.”

Shoko snorts. “We knew each other in school. I just took pity on him.” She smirks as Gojo’s jaw drops. “You can quote that.”

“Right, so all of you were friends in college. And you came together to start this place—what was the idea behind it?” Toge chimes in. “You said you studied nursing, Shoko?”

And you sit and listen as Shoko explains. Back in college, she was at the top of her class. By graduation, she’d been accepted to basically all the best med schools. She had her pick. She could do whatever she wanted. But she realized that what she wanted wasn’t that at all.

The medical field is brutal, she tells you. It’s all late nights and emotional burnout. People yelling at you, misplaced anger when you give them the bad news. Getting attached to people only to watch them waste away.

“I needed to get out before I got too far in. Maybe it was selfish,” she admits. “But I wasn’t cut out for it. I have so much admiration for medical professionals, but I couldn’t be one of them. A few clinicals and I was already feeling the consequences of giving too much of myself and getting nothing back.” She shrugs. “So I named it The Fix, as some kind of homage to the medical background. And I figured I’d just make sure it’s safe.”

Something sits heavy in her gaze as she stares at something behind you, middle distance, like she’s remembering.

“Why a college bar?” you ask, nudging the phone across the counter to pick up her voice better. “I mean, the extra security, thinking about underage drinking, dealing with a bunch of broke university kids. You could’ve just as easily opened a different bar in a more lucrative area. What was the appeal?”

She smiles crookedly. “Appeal. Well. My senior year, I was working in the local ER. And I saw… god. So many kids came in there needing their stomachs pumped, or kids who’d done laced drugs, gotten roofied, harassed, it was… I mean, it was a city university club scene. They weren’t safe. And I just felt like I needed to give them that. I couldn’t stay there as a nurse or a doctor. But I could do this.” She shrugs. “Sorry. That was probably way too much.”

“No,” you say quickly, smiling at her. “That was—that’s what we came here for. Shoko, that’s amazing. And it’s not selfish, taking care of yourself. You’re still here taking care of others.”

You don’t know Gojo well. Most of your stories about him come secondhand from Nobara, who knows him through Megumi. She paints the picture of a flamboyant, obnoxious bartender who’s more like a weird uncle to her than anything. From what you’ve seen of him at The Fix, you know this to be mostly accurate—he’s rarely serious, always taking flack from the students and giving it right back, ragging on Utahime, begging Shoko to play his playlist instead of Geto’s and knowing she’ll never cave. But now, as he listens intently to Shoko, you think you’re seeing another side of him.

There’s something troubled on his face as she speaks, like he wishes he could reach into the past and help. Like he regrets it.

The bar’s not the only thing that has a different side in the daylight.

“She’s right,” Gojo tells Shoko. It’s not much, but she looks up at him a bit surprised, something in her expression softening. A smile tugs at the corner of her mouth, not quite there but not quite not. “You’ve got a pretty big heart under all that RBF.” Shoko rolls her eyes, the moment over.

“What about you?” You turn to Gojo, nudging the phone his way. “Why a college bar?”

Shoko turns toward him, leaning a hip against the bar, just as curious as you are. “I think kids deserve to be kids,” he shrugs. “And if I—if we—can create a space where it’s actually safe for them to do that, it feels important.” His gaze shifts from you and Toge to the empty bar, the stage and floor and high-top tables that tomorrow will be full of music and laughter and students knowing they’re allowed to let loose here.

“There aren’t a lot of places out there that are exclusively for students,” he continues. “It’s this weird phase, college, where you’re figuring out who you are, trying to take risks without losing too much. It’s a lot. And you look at the crime rates, date rape drugs, theft, DUIs, in the city, and it’s just—this place gives them the room to learn and grow and mess around and have a good time without the danger of the… I don’t know. The outside world. Does that make sense?”

He drums his fingers on the countertop, then seems to abruptly remember the recording and stops. “I think it’s just… well, no one’s allowed to take youth away from young people. So that’s why I’m here.”

You wonder what Gojo was like in school. He majored in gender studies, which you’re pretty sure is what Todo is at least minoring in, too—you’re not sure how it’s applicable to anything, but Nobara says he likes to pull his diploma out from behind the bar and say he’s an expert in women. It seems a far cry from this rare, more subdued version of Gojo you’re seeing right now. You’d guess he’s grown quite a bit in the time he’s been here. And Shoko’s been here to witness it.

He’s not a business owner, like Shoko or Geto. And according to Nobara, he definitely doesn’t need this gig to make a living. He’s here because he wants to be.

“These last few years have been nice, in particular,” he offers. “Just ‘cause some of us have kids going here. I mean, you know the Fushiguros. Suguru’s got the twins. And I know Ino’s not Nanami’s kid, but they’re tight.”

“Wait, what?” Nanami is the bar’s primary security guy, a bouncer who never lets a fake ID fool him. He’s part of the reason this place is so safe. Toge spins to look at you as you blurt out the question, caught off guard. “Uh, sorry. I just didn’t—I didn’t know they knew each other.”

Shoko studies you with tired, intelligent eyes, and you can’t help but feel the tables have been entirely flipped. You’re the one being interrogated, wordlessly, by the woman across the counter. You feel like every thought in your head is scrawled across your face for her to read.

“Yeah,” Gojo says, unaffected. “Ino looks up to him a lot, I think. Even though he’s an old man who reads the newspaper for fun.” He snorts. “He’s a good guy, though. And Ino’s a good kid.” He finally clocks the way Shoko’s looking at you and cocks his head, appraising.

Thankfully, Toge cuts in with another question. “So, we’ll be around tomorrow for the bands and to take some photos and observe,” he explains, glancing at you to make sure he’s got the information right. “Will Geto be around?” You’d wanted both owners’ perspectives, and now that Gojo’s reminded you of the twins, you’re even more curious.

“Yeah, Suguru and Utahime will be here tomorrow night,” Shoko says. “And Nanami. Geto would totally be down to talk to you some other time, too, when it’s a bit quieter.”

“Amazing,” you say, pulling the phone back toward you. You’ll need details, follow-ups, but you need to process this first, write some things down while they’re fresh in your mind. ‘Thank you so much for this. We appreciate it.”

“Anytime, kid,” Shoko says, waving you off. “See you tomorrow.”

As you turn off the recording, Gojo and Toge have already devolved into conversation about the bands and predictions about tomorrow night. A few posters are scattered across a low table near the door, and you pick one up, smiling at the blocky lettering advertising Black Flash. There are posters advertising all of the artists, and they look amazing, straight out of one of the alt rock venues in the wider city.

“They’re sick, right?” Gojo calls, nodding to the posters. “I gotta hang those up, actually. Thanks for the reminder.”

You wave goodbye to Shoko and Gojo and lead the way out, Toge just behind you.

“Man,” he says, and you brace yourself, recognizing his teasing tone for what it is. “They said Ino’s name and you look like scared Bambi or some shit.”

“Shut up,” you mutter, elbowing him.

He holds his hands up. “I’m just living in pursuit of the truth! Like Kusakabe would want.”

“Is your camera battery charged for tomorrow?” you say in a blatant attempt at a topic change.

“Who do you think I am?”

“Toge Inumaki, chronically irresponsible student and—”

“Okay, sorry I asked, holy shit.” He sticks his tongue out at you. Then he hesitates, frowning, and then he’s pulling out his phone and calling someone in his favorites list before you can see who it is. “Hey,” he greets. “What? No, she didn’t kick me out. Hey. Hey.” You snicker and Toge glares at you, pressing the phone closer to his ear. “Yutaaa,” he whines. “Do you know where my camera battery is?”

—

Even when you’re not the one on stage, you live for Fridays at The Fix. Tonight you’re doing double duty—because of the dual elimination at the end of the round, all of the competing artists are here. It’s not a requirement, but you want to see what you’re up against, and the sentiment seems to have carried. You and Toge are also in reporting mode for your project story.

The band on stage right now is… well, you can’t say new wave metal is really your thing, but it’s definitely theirs, and the audience is loving it. The Cull, you write in your notes. Look up names.

You couldn’t make out the lyrics if your life depended on it. It’s three guys and a girl, vaguely familiar, but you’re fairly certain they’re seniors and absolutely certain they’re baked right now.

“God, this is loud.” Yuta winces, turning to face you, and then his eyes flicker to something over your shoulder. You divert your attention from the stage and just catch the brief commotion in your periphery. Nanami has a kid by the elbow, and he’s escorting him out the side door, expressionless. The kid’s obviously drunk out of his mind, tripping over himself, shouting something that Nanami doesn’t bother to respond to.

Maki follows your gaze and wrinkles her nose up in distaste.

“Who’s that?”

“My cousin,” she says flatly. You glance quizzically at Megumi, who is definitely standing five feet away and not being escorted out of the bar.

“Dude, how much family do you have at this school?”

She sighs. “Just Mai and Megumi and him. Naoya. He’s a piece of shit.”

“Clearly,” Toge says. “He broke the M theme. No respect for the family alliteration.” Maki kicks him in the shin.

“One last round for The Cull!” Panda calls from the stage, and your ears slowly, very gradually stop ringing with the raging new wave music. The stage techs get to work behind Panda as he introduces the next group.

“Up next, making their debut, we’ve got a sophomore girl pop trio. Give it up for MOTION CAPTURE!”

There’s a big cheer from the bar, and you turn to see Geto grinning. Three girls take the stage, the blonde one grabbing the mic and adding, “All caps!” The girl beside her is very obviously her twin sister, though her hair is straight and dark while the blonde’s is tugged into pigtails. Light and dark. The girl on keys has a long, black bubble braid that she pushes out of the way as she settles in to play.

The blonde plugs in her electric and calls out, “Alright, I’m Nanako.” She tests out a chord, the sound reverberating, filling the bar all the way up to its high ceilings. “That’s Mimiko, that’s Remi, and we’re just here to have a good time.”

“Hey,” a voice says behind you, and you jump. You turn to find Takuma holding two drinks, offering one to you.

“Oh! Aw, thanks, you didn’t have to do that. How much do I owe you?”

He rolls his eyes. “Nothing.”

“Takuma—”

“Nothing,” he reiterates. “Anyway, The Cull. Thoughts?”

You take the drink and try it while you think on your answer—it’s the same thing Nobara got you last week. How did he know?

“I didn’t really understand any of the lyrics,” you admit, shrugging. “They weren’t bad. Not really my genre. Do you know them?”

Takuma shakes his head. “I had a gen ed once with that Rin kid, but I don’t know the other ones. These girls aren’t bad, though.” He’s right—they’ve launched into an Olivia Rodrigo cover that’s actually decent. They could work on their voice control, but they’re young and fun and having a good time and working the crowd, and that’s what it’s all about, isn’t it?

You sing along, alternating between your drink and exchanging quips with Toge and talking with Takuma. You like this new balance between your band and his, the easy camaraderie.

When the girls wrap up their set, you whoop and cheer and Kirara shamelessly watches Hakari move things off the stage, arms bare in his cut-off tank.

“You’re subtle,” Takuma tells her, and she tugs his beanie down over his face.

“Hey!”

You grab his drink before he can spill it and grin as he yanks his hat off and readjusts it. His hair is a fluffy mess underneath, and it’s kind of endearing.

When the girl pop trio is done, two guys take the stage, one in white and one in black. They’re clearly related, dark hair and pale skin and piercing eyes, and Panda introduces them as the Kamos. You don’t know if they’re brothers or cousins or what. But they’re good—they sing a few alt rock covers, play guitar.

“Damn,” Nobara sighs, a little longingly, her gaze settling on Choso as he takes over the chorus. “They’re…”

Beside her, Yuji wrinkles his nose. “Dude. That’s my half-brother.”

Nobara hums noncommittally. “And?”

He groans, tipping his head back and staring at the exposed beams of the ceiling, run through with colored lights. “Why does this always happen?”

Toge is taking more photos of them than is strictly necessary, considering your story is about the bar and not the band, but you let him have this. Scattered throughout the crowd are more kids with cameras, freshmen from the entry-level reporting classes with big underage stamps on the backs of their hands. Somebody mistook Toge for one of them earlier, and Maki hasn’t let it go all night.

You jot down atmospheric notes on your phone, little things that’ll help set the scene for your project lede, keeping an eye on the bar as much as you can. Geto has jumped in at the bar, which he usually does when the place gets busy, and Gojo is terrorizing Utahime again.

“How’d your interview go?” Takuma asks, nodding at your notes. It shouldn’t faze you so much that he remembers what you told him about your story, but you can’t help the little kick of your heart in your chest at the reminder.

“Good! Really good.” And then you catch sight of Nanami, back at the door after calling a cab for Maki’s asshat cousin. “Actually, Gojo mentioned you.”

Takuma’s brows shoot up. “Gojo? Why?”

Nanami has always seemed incredibly reserved, stony and silent in a way Takuma has never been. You don’t want to pry, but you’re also curious about the relationship between them, how they met, what they are to each other. The journalist in you wants to know.

And then there’s the part of you that just wants to know Takuma.

“Well, he was talking about the twins and the Fushiguros, and he kind of mentioned something about you knowing Nanami?” You try to sound casual, jerking your chin toward the door where Nanami is posted, like a tall, blond guard dog.

“Oh,” he says, surprised, but he shrugs, not seeming too alarmed by the question. “Yeah, I’ve known Nanami for… a long time. He’s kind of a mentor. He’s the reason I met Fushiguro in the first place, actually, ‘cause of him knowing Gojo.”

You’re considering asking how exactly they did meet when the Kamos wrap up, Nobara staring up at them dreamily, and the stage clears out for the final artist.

Whatever questions you had are thrown out the window, because you know who this is. Everyone knows who this is.

Fifth-year student and resident SoundCloud rapper, Ryomen Sukuna. Or D!SH0NORED1, according to the posters.

“Oh, here we go,” Megumi groans.

Despite his reputation on campus, you don’t know anyone who’s actually close to Sukuna, except Uruame. You mostly know that he deals at the skate park and that he’s clean about it.

And that his raps are truly, genuinely horrible.

He lets Panda give a stilted introduction and launches into a verse, mic too close to his mouth, making hand gestures or stepping to the beat of his backing track. His tattoos are even more stark and bold under the stage lights.

“My blood type’s B, your type is me, my zodiac Caprisun, it might be controversial but you’re still lookin’ at me, son!”

“Oh, sweet Jesus,” Kirara mutters. “I’m gonna bleach my eardrums.”

“Caprisun?” Nobara whispers. “Oh, dude.”

You might be a terrible person for thinking it, but watching this guy’s performance makes you feel infinitely better about your odds of advancing in the tournament.

His final song is a new one he introduces as Frosted Flexin’, and Maki looks like she’s about ready to keel over dead.

“Frosted flexin’, I'm the cereal king, pourin' oat milk in the mix, yeah, I'm doin' my thing,” Sukuna spits in his low voice, swaggering up to the front of the stage. You are trying so hard not to lose it.

“Sukuna being an oat milk truther wasn’t on my bingo card,” Toge says.

“Got the swag of a squirrel and the brain of a dove, call me trash, but you're still showin' me love.”

“Thoughts on the amount of swag a given squirrel possesses?” you ask Takuma. He laughs, loud and bright, and then seems to very seriously consider the question.

“I don’t know if campus squirrels have swag. They live in luxury. They probably eat better than we do,” he says. You can’t argue that—you did once see a squirrel outside your sociology class run by with a full bagel in its mouth. “The wilderness squirrels, though, I think they got a scrappy kind of swag. Like, I wouldn’t cross them.”

You nod sagely. “I want them on my team in the apocalypse.”

He nudges you with a shoulder. “Am I on your team?”

You glance at him, make a show of looking him up and down. Maybe you’re imagining it, but you think he’s blushing a little. “I don’t know. How fast can you climb a tree?”

Sukuna is nearing the end of his song, now, saying, “Off-tune, out of sync, yeah, I know it's a sin, but you'll play it back twice 'cause I still might win.”

He actually, physically drops the mic and Hakari swoops in and catches it, clearing his throat and saying into it, “Yep, friendly reminder that equipment’s expensive! Everyone give our last artist of the night a hand, yeah?”

There’s scattered applause and more than a few confused faces as Sukuna lopes off stage, and Panda hops back up to explain the voting system for anyone who wasn’t here last week. “QR codes to the Google form are posted around the bar,” he says.

Out of all eight artists, the bottom two will be eliminated. You’re nervous. But voting was open last week too. You can’t vote as a member of the band, and it’s all done through school Google accounts to avoid double votes or the link getting sent out to non-students.

“Open until tomorrow morning,” Panda reminds the audience. “Results and second round schedules will be posted on the Instagram at some point tomorrow! That’s it for this Friday at The Fix. Have a great night, folks. Get home safe.”

Gojo whoops dramatically from the bar, and Panda gives him a weird look before getting off stage.

Your friends start heading toward the door, and you grab Toge and excuse yourself to catch Geto at the bar. Gojo sees you first. “The newsies!” he calls.

“Like the musical?” you say in lieu of a greeting. “Banger soundtrack.”

“I could dance on newspapers,” Toge says.

“Geto!” The Fix’s other owner smiles at you, soft and genuine. Part of his dark hair is pulled back and the rest hangs loose over his shoulders, a stark contrast to Gojo—like the Kamos, you think, or like Nanako and Mimiko. Light and dark. “We were wondering if you’d be down to set up a time to talk. Has Gojo told you about our story at all?”

Geto smiles, drying a glass and leaning against the bar. “He told me he’s gonna be the front page of every paper in the city, which I assume is a horrid exaggeration,” he says. Gojo looks affronted. “Shoko mentioned you’re doing a feature for class, though. I’d be happy to.”

“We have our Monday night class time open for field reporting the week after this one,” Toge offers. “Will you be around?”

“I will indeed. Utahime, too, if you want to speak to both of us. And Gojo won’t be here, which might be beneficial for you.”

“Suguru,” Gojo gasps, pretending to stagger back. “You wound me.”

“Mhm,” he says, unaffected. “What time works best for you two?”

You set up a time to interview Geto and Utahime, then say goodbye to him and Gojo and run to catch up to your friends. It’s a nice night, and since you didn’t have to deal with instruments, you all decided to walk.

“How goes the… journalisming? Journaling?” Takuma asks when you fall into step beside him.

“Good, all good. Reporting is maybe a better word, but valiant effort.”

“I like journalisming. Can you just submit words to the official dictionary? I’m gonna do it.”

“No,” Toge says, and you blink. He shrugs. “What? I tried once. But the only submission form I could find was for the Bureau of Linguistical Reality and it wasn’t like, a legitimate dictionary form. There’s all these requirements, it’s horrible.”

“What word did you try to submit?” you ask warily, not sure if you actually want to know.

“Some things,” Toge says solemnly, “are better kept secret.”

The night is hazy, only small rays of moonlight piercing through the cloud cover, and you make your way through the campus roads guided only by the streetlamps and Maki’s reliable sense of direction.

Part of you wants to ask Takuma to come over, or Yuji to insist the band come over to his place again, just so you can keep talking. But you have work to do, things to write and transcribe, lists of follow-up questions to make, and that’s only your workload for this one class. You still have exams this week, and you need to study now so you can balance it with rehearsals. Assuming you actually advanced to round two, that is.

And part of you worries you might be taking this too fast, too. You don’t typically integrate people into your life so quickly. You like spending time with Takuma and Kirara and Yuji and even Megumi, though he’s pretty quiet. You just don’t want to jump in too far too fast.

At your place, you say your goodbyes and head up to your room to get some work done. Toge uploads his photos and puts them in your project folder on Drive. And you spend the night doing what you do best, aside from drumming—writing.

Youth for the young: JU alumni run safest live music bar in city limits

You don’t even notice the time until it’s past one in the morning, and you’re nearly asleep at your desk. The dark has crept across your room, the only source of light the desk lamp and your laptop screen. Finally, you push the computer shut and flick off the light, flopping into your bed. A few missed messages pop up when you hold your phone up, wincing at the bright screen.

takuma: just letting you know i made the treacherous journey home safely takuma: many miles of hardship takuma: thought i was gonna die halfway there

You smirk and type out a reply.

you: did kirara have to save you takuma: i resent that takuma: (yes) takuma: wait why are you up it’s so late you: journalisming you: why are YOU up takuma: travel adrenaline takuma: (coding project due monday that i just started) you: TAKUMA

The next text to come through is a voice note, and you can’t help smiling as you hit play and his voice fills the open air of your bedroom.

“Okay, in my defense, I thought it was due next Monday. Which maybe isn’t my defense because it means I just can’t read due dates, or maybe I just can’t read, but I thought I had a lot more time and then one of my classmates texted me asking for help on this block of code and I told him I hadn’t started and he was like oh my god, Ino, it’s due in three days, and I was like no it’s not, we have so much time—turns out we don’t have so much time, so I’m over here staring at my screen until the vessels in my eyes pop—”

He yawns, and it makes you yawn too, despite the screen separating you. “Sorry, agh. Anyway, I have to write this program that uses some kind of randomized generator…”

You find your eyelids fighting gravity, exhaustion washing over you as he explains the project and all the reasons he’s not that worried about getting it done by Monday because actually he’s on a��roll and it turns out the code isn’t that different from a similar project he did last year so he can just lift the main blocks over and wow, he’s tired, and you stifle a laugh as the voice memo comes to an end and he says, “Okay, gosh, I should go to bed. You should go to bed. Stop journalisming, Skip, get some sleep. G’night.”

You grin, plugging your phone in and sending him a voice memo of your own.

“I’m done journalisming. Still haven’t written that story on you, though. Night, Takuma.”

The last thing you see before you fall asleep is his reaction to your text. It’s a thumbs up, but after a few seconds, it disappears, replaced with a heart.

—

“I’m gonna die,” Nobara groans.

You’ve been checking Instagram every hour on the hour for the bracket results, but to no avail. The five of you are sprawled out in the living room, a Fleetwood Mac record spinning in the corner, cups of coffee and tea and scattered remnants of breakfast dotting the table and the floor and the windowsill.

You have post notifications on for the Battle of the Bands Instagram page, but you check anyway, as if you somehow missed it.

“Okay,” Maki says. “Cut it out. No phones.”

“Maki,” Toge groans. “How do we live with the suspense?”

“Go around and give a rundown of your week?” Yuta suggests.

“Aw, highs and lows, it’s like elementary school,” Nobara says happily. “I’ll go first! High: annoying slacker guy in my marketing class got a shit grade on the group project and the rest of us got As. Low: Skipper won’t give me Ino lore.”

“Lore,” you mimic. “I don’t have any lore. We’ve known each other for like, two weeks.”

“That’s enough time for lore,” she insists. “What’s your high? Ino?”

“Okay, jeez,” you say. “Maybe it’s that Toge and I had a really good first interview for our project story.”

Toge blinks at you.

“Fine, maybe it’s Takuma.”

Nobara grins in a way you can only describe as malicious. “Okay,” you say, pointing at her. “Low: whatever that is.” She sticks her tongue out at you.

“My low is Skipper bullying me in class,” Toge says. “And my high is she said she’d be my partner, so I’m not gonna fail.”

Yuta nods sagely. “Maki?”

“Uhh,” she says eloquently. “My parents won’t stop pestering me about fall break. But I aced a test on Thursday in anthro, so there’s that.”

“You’re not going home, right?” you ask. She shakes her head resolutely. Maki doesn’t go home unless she absolutely has to—one thing she and Mai actually have in common.

All of your phones go off at once, a mix of buzzes and beeps and Apple watchfaces lighting up, and Nobara screams. “I can’t look!” she cries. “Someone tell me!”

You click on the notification and pull up the post, heart racing.

The first slide is a generic Battle of the Bands announcement with the cool ass graphics you’ve been seeing on the posters. Whoever designs those needs a raise. The second image is the bracket for next Friday, with the first knockout round of three—only one group will move on to the finals. “Who is it?” Nobara asks anxiously, pacing the room. “Oh god, I’m gonna die.”

“Shibuya Incident,” you read off, unable to keep the smile from your face. “Angel.” Nobara groans overdramatically. “And the Kamos.”

You swipe to the next screen, heart in your throat. OCTOBER 18, it reads. THE CULL. CURSED TECHNIQUE. BLACK FLASH.

“Oh my god!” you scream. “Oh my god, we made it!”

Toge yanks you to your feet and starts hopping around the living room, and Nobara shrieks with joy as you pull her into the celebration. Even Maki and Yuta are sporting wide smiles as they watch the three of you bounce around like kids on a sugar rush.

“What, no Sukuna?” Maki teases when you’ve calmed down. Toge clears his throat and does his best impression, going as far as to make his pants sag a little around his waist.

“Frosted flexin’, I’m the cereal king, pourin’… uh, duh nuh nuh, something doin’ my thing,” he says in a deep voice. “Uh… squirrel? Somethin’ fuego, that’s Spanish, uhhh…”

“Oh my god, let me look it up,” Nobara cackles, pulling up SoundCloud. “It’s I’m the king of bad decisions, got a throne made of Legos, took a bite of my mic and said these bars are fuego.”

Yuta physically winces. “Does he really sag his pants like that?”

Toge shrugs. “It felt right in the moment.”

“Wait, who’s the other one eliminated, then?” you ask, running through the bands in your head. Yours, Takuma’s, Black Flash, the Kamos…

“Motion Capture,” Maki says.

“No, it’s all caps. You have to shout it. MOTION CAPTURE!” Toge hollers. Nobara snorts.

You aren’t entirely surprised, but you have a feeling the girls aren’t too put out about it. They’re young, too—they’ll have their time to shine eventually.

You grin, flopping back onto the couch. “Okay, rehearsal when? Tonight?”

“Yeah, I have to go to a friend’s to figure some stuff out for a project, but I’ll be back at like… five?” Yuta says.

“Oh, fuck, I gotta go too!” Nobara says, darting toward the stairs.

“Group project?” Maki asks.

“Shopping! I gotta pick Miwa up in like, ten minutes!”

Maki rolls her eyes fondly. Yuta stands up and grabs his bag, heading toward the entryway, and the rest of you gravitate instinctually to the kitchen. Nobara is out the door moments later with a wave and a shout, and Toge grins.

“What,” Maki deadpans, not a question.

“I printed memes to hide on her Polaroid wall. Be right back.”

You snort, turning your attention to the window to watch Nobara cruise down the block. The view of her sleek, small car is interrupted by Yuta’s jungle of plants.

“I hope they’re not too cold,” he says, frowning as he tugs a jacket on over his white hoodie. “Do they look okay to you?”

“Yeah,” you say, pointing to the one in the white, ovular pot. “Especially this one, it’s getting so big! What’s his name, Snorlax?” Yuta had a phase where he named at least six plants in a row after Pokèmon.

“No, that one’s Rika, after that TV show,” Maki corrects, not looking up. Yuta blinks, looks between her and the plant, whose vines have started to creep up the window. A smile tugs at the corner of his lips. Both of your eyes on her have her looking up from her phone, expression flat and unaffected. “What?”

“Yeah,” he says slowly. “I didn’t know… anyone paid attention.”

Maki shrugs. “You talk to them out loud.”

“Yeah, I guess I do.” Yuta laughs and waves one last time before he walks out, closing the door behind him. You count to five in your head and then whirl on Maki, entirely unable to keep the shit-eating grin off your face.

“Kowalski, status report.”

She blinks at you. “What?”

“I said—”

“No, I know, just—on what? What happened?”

You groan, dragging the heels of your hands down your face. “Maki. Please.” You gesture wildly between her and the door, wondering if she’s genuinely this oblivious or if she’s just as good a liar as Mai. “Are you—did we not just witness the same interaction? Jesus, Maki, put the boy out of his misery!”

Seeing Maki frazzled is not a common occurrence. The most agitated you ever see her is talking about her family or trading passive aggressive jabs with Mai. This is an entirely new sort of disarray—she’s flustered.

“I—what?! I can’t do that! And he’s not miserable. He’s that nice to everyone.”

You groan, burying your face in your hands with your elbows on the counter. “Maki! He likes you. And your face is telling me you like him back.”

She scoffs, turning her head down and crossing her arms defensively. “I’m not messing things up by dating my bandmate. We live together, Skip, he’s my best friend, if things got messy—”

You hold up a hand. “First of all, offensive. I’m your best friend. Second of all, I hear no denial. Also, it won’t get messy. You are the two most mature people in this house and you know how to separate personal from practical. If anything, it’s gonna kill the vibes of the band and the house if you just keep stewing in the sexual tension.”

“Oh my god,” Maki groans. “There. Is. No. Sexual. Tension.”

“There’s always sexual tension,” Toge announces, walking in and jumping up onto the countertop, legs swinging. He looks between the two of you innocently. “What are we talking about?”

“You might be of some help, actually,” you say, turning to Toge with your hands clasped.

“Uh, actually? Not oh, Toge, you’re always so helpful, thank god you live with me and keep my life interesting—”

“Nevermind.”

“No, pleeease,” Toge insists, sticking out his lower lip. “What?” His gaze shifts to Maki, who’s blushing a furious red. His mouth turns into a small O. “This is about Yuta?”

You didn’t think she could get any more scarlet, but here she is.

“Does everyone think that?” she groans, throwing her head back in exasperation.

Toge shrugs. “I thought we were all just quietly skirting around it until you both snapped.”

“Nobara doesn’t skirt around anything,” Maki says.

“Well, there’s no way she doesn’t know,” you point out. “Maybe she just respects both of you enough to leave it alone.”

“Hah!” Toge snorts, poking you in the ribs. “That means she doesn’t respect you. She wants the Ino lore.”

“I’m gonna tell Nobara about the memes.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

Abruptly, you realize you never got around to Yuta for highs and lows, what with the chaos of the brackets dropping. “Ah, guys,” you say. “We missed Yuta.” You pull up the house group chat.

you: YUTA DROP YOUR HIGH AND LOW IN THE CHAT you: YOU ARE NOT FORGOTTEN freak no. 1: yes you are utah: haha aw that’s nice utah disliked a message from freak no. 1 utah: uhh low is maybe that toge keeps leaving memes all over our room. like i keep finding them tucked in my notebooks and everything freak no. 1: SLANDER freak no. 1: LIBEL you: not the same thing freak no. 1: SHUT UP utah: high is someone remembers the names of my plants!! :) nobara: Sorry, using voice text while I drive. Who knows the names of your plants? You and God? utah: maki! :)

“Okay, well, respond,” Toge says, poking Maki in the side. She glares at him and likes Yuta’s message.

“Guys,” she says exasperatedly. “What the hell am I supposed to do? Does he know?”

And you’re not sure, honestly. You don’t know that Yuta is even aware of his own feelings, let alone aware that Maki reciprocates them. You shrug helplessly. “How about… ask?”

“Jesus,” Maki says.

“Not him, Yuta.”

Maki socks Toge in the shoulder and levels him with a disdainful look. “You are the bane of my existence.”

“And the object of all your desires,” Toge proclaims in a horrendous Bridgerton accent. He made you watch all of it with him in two days. Maki refused.

Now, she just shoves him, and he squeals as he falls off the kitchen counter.

“Children,” you sigh. “Do you need to be separated?”

“Yes!”

—

“Why is this so hard?” You stand with your feet planted on Takuma’s skateboard, which is confoundingly, entirely different than balancing atop your longboard. “Oh my god.” You lurch forward as the board rolls a bit to the left, unable to stifle the squeal that comes out of your mouth.

Takuma stops it with one foot.

“Your center of balance is lower on a longboard,” he laughs. “Like, here.” His hands wrap around your waist and you tense under his grip, and he immediately freezes, jerking his arms back. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t—”

“No! No, it’s okay,” you blurt, sheepish. “I just wasn’t expecting it, I—here.” You try to fight the blush furiously rising in your cheeks as you take his wrists in both hands, putting them back where they were. You clear your throat, suddenly too warm. “Um. Okay, so—do you turn the same way?”

“Pretty much. You just lean,” Takuma says, and you shift your weight to your heels, letting him steady you. “It’s a bit harsher than you would on a longboard, though. Unless you want me to send you right into kickturns?” His tone is teasing and you pretend to consider, tapping a finger against your chin.

“Mm. Maybe later.”

You’ve been at the skate park for a while now, and you’ve only recently ditched your longboard for the skateboard. Takuma brought the extra board you saw hanging on his wall the other day, and he uses it to demonstrate while you practice riding back and forth, getting a hold on your balance. After you feel like you can make it a good distance without pinwheeling your arms, you come to a staggered stop beside him.

A flash of blue-green hair grabs your attention, and you watch a kid in a lightning bolt hoodie slip under the ramps. The park has been pretty deserted today aside from a few guys doing tricks in the pit, a chilly Sunday with the sunlight muted by the clouds.

“Ooh, drug deal in action.” You poke Takuma in the side.

“Ah, probably Sukuna. He deals here all the time.” Sukuna’s business is one of those things everyone’s aware of but nobody talks about. He’s consistent and pretty safe, as far as drug dealers go, but he’ll deny any involvement while smoking a joint if he has to.

“Who’s space buns?”

“Uhh…” Takuma narrows his eyes, and the guy slips out again. “Damn, that was fast. Oh, that’s Hajime. Another senior, I think. They hate each other. Fastest deals I’ve ever seen.”

“I wonder how much of his songwriting is just… while he’s really, really high,” you muse. Swag of a squirrel doesn’t strike you as a particularly levelheaded thought, but hey, it’s certainly memorable.

Takuma leans in and says conspiratorially, “I’m pretty sure I heard him dropping bars here the other day when I was with Yuji.”

You snort and look up at one of the smallest ramps, one you think you could handle without falling on your face, and point to it with a raised brow.

“Oh, moving up in the world?” Takuma kicks his board up and starts walking over, and you do the same. Before you put the board down at the top of the ramp, though, you hold it up to the light, noticing a few short, white hairs caught on the surface.

“Is this… fur?” Maybe there was a cat hiding out somewhere when you were over. Kirara seems like she’d have a cat.

Takuma sighs. “Yeah, the dogs shed like crazy. It gets everywhere. I don’t think I even left that on the ground.”

Your jaw drops, and you stare at him until he looks back at you. “Dogs?”

“What? Yeah, Fushiguro’s—”

“Fushiguro has dogs? Dogs plural? In the house?”

“You didn’t know?”

“No!” you cry. “What? Oh my god! Where were they on Wednesday? How many? What are their names?”

Takuma leans back on the rail next to the ramp, grinning. “I can’t believe you didn’t know. Oh my god. They’re so cute. Tsumiki had them Wednesday, I think. Mandated auntie time. Do you wanna meet ‘em?”

“Do I want to meet them?” you repeat, practically bouncing on the balls of your feet. “Uh, yeah. Are they home? Oh my god. I love dogs.”

“I couldn’t tell,” he deadpans, but he’s smiling still. “Yeah, they’re home. And you can meet them if you go down this ramp without dying.”

“You’re cruel,” you say, situating yourself on the board. “But I will. And then I’ll meet the dogs and become their best friend and they’ll love me more than you and Megumi combined.”

“Confident.” He comes up beside you, checking your stance. The ramp didn’t look steep or long at all from your vantage point across the park, but now that you’re atop the board, it feels suddenly very steep and very long. “You got it. Just don’t panic, keep your stance.” He drops his own board and cruises down the ramp, hardly even trying.

“Okay, go!” he calls from the bottom. “C’mon, Skip, the dogs are waiting.”

“Oh, god,” you murmur, the wind catching your words and whisking them away. You ball your hands into fists and push off, planting your foot back on the board and trying to keep your knees bent, but not too stiff, as you careen down the ramp. Don’t panic, keep your stance. You’re at the bottom in what feels like nanoseconds, and the sudden shift from ramp to flat ground has you stumbling off the board with an embarrassingly high-pitched squeak of alarm.

“Nice!” Takuma laughs as he catches you, the board rolling a few more feet ahead. His arm is wrapped around your front, the other holding you up by the shoulder, and this time you don’t tense under his hands.

“Thanks,” you say a little breathlessly, grinning, the tiny spike of adrenaline making you almost lightheaded. He lets his hands drop when you’re steady on your feet, and part of you mourns the warmth a little. But there are more pressing matters at hand. “So, about those dogs?”

You opt for your longboard on the way back down your street, cruising along beside Takuma, who has his extra board tucked under his arm. You’ve got a lot to do tonight, all the last-minute preparation for another crazy week, but you can and will drop everything to pet a puppy. Or two. Always.

And they’re actual angels. Big, fluffy angels on earth, one white and one black, and they’re all over you the second you open the door.

“Hi!” you say happily, sinking down to their level. The white one immediately tries to burrow into your lap. “Oh, hello! You’re so nice, aren’t you?” You glance up at Takuma. “Where’s Megumi?” You grab the white one’s collar and check the tag—Shiro.

“Shiro thinks she’s a tiny dog,” he says, bending down to ruffle the fur behind her ears. “Uh, Fushiguro’s at the animal clinic. He works there Sundays. And Tuesdays, I think.”

“Wait, really?”

“Yeah, he’s a vet student. You didn’t know?”

“I did not.” The black one is licking your face, and you giggle and check his tag, too. Kuro. “Hi, Kuro. You’re a good boy, aren’t you?”

“He’s got such a soft spot for animals,” Takuma says as he kicks off his shoes. “You should see when they both try to sleep in his little twin bed. It’s ridiculous.”

“I love them,” you say, burying your face in Kuro’s scruff. “Hi, doggies. You’re awful cute, you know that? Mhm. Yes you are.”

When you finally look up again, Kuro’s cold nose nudging insistently at your palm, Takuma is leaning against the wall, looking down at you with his phone discreetly angled your way. “Takuma!”

He laughs, not bothering to hide it anymore, very clearly taking photos of you with the dogs. “It’s cute!” he insists. “I’ll send them to you. Proof for Fushiguro of your master plan to make them like you more than him.”

“And you,” you remind him.

“Well, I don’t know about that.”

You gesture pointedly to the two dogs, who are all over you and not him. It’ll be a nightmare trying to get all of Shiro’s white fur off your black jacket later, but it’s worth it.

“You’re new,” he says. “New scent. It’s the novelty factor. I am their favorite.”

“You sure? I’m pretty hard to compete with.”

He smiles, looking from you to the photos he took of you and the dogs. “Yeah,” he says. “You are.”

—

The first half of the new week goes by in a rushed routine of classes, homework, and rehearsals, each night ending with you collapsing into bed, new and old lyrics fighting for dominance in the back of your mind. Sticks re-taped and drum heads re-tuned, assignments turned in and drafts edited. Your classes are ramping up as midterms approach, and Yuta bounces between his own work and poking his head into everyone’s rooms, making sure they don’t forget about dinner.

Toge follows through on his snack run promise, and the two of you spend hours on Tuesday afternoon trading two different flavored bags of Doritos back and forth, Toge writing photo captions while you edit your story lede.

Takuma, Hakari, and Kirara have offered to help Cursed Technique record a single on Wednesday night, and the five of you have been drilling the new song you wrote up, down, and sideways.

Finally, Wednesday arrives, and you’re all crammed into the recording studio space, instruments set up and headsets tuned in.

“Yeah, I’m good,” Nobara says to Hakari on the other side of the glass. She taps a finger on the mic in demonstration, and you hear it in your own headphones.

“Great,” he says. “Skipper?”

“Skipper? I hardly know her,” Toge says, earning a harmless smack upside the head from Yuta and a not harmless smack upside the head from Maki.

“I will throw these at you,” you tell him, holding up your sticks. Toge sticks his bottom lip out, pouting.

A snicker from beside you draws your attention back to Takuma, kneeling just beside the throne as he adjusts the kick mic. He has you hit it a few times while Hakari monitors the levels. You feel oddly self-conscious like this, him looking up at you, but then he smiles and it’s not strange at all. It’s stupid how fast he can put you at ease with a look.

“Nice,” he says. “Okay, that should work, yeah, Hakari?”

It’s Kirara who answers, “Yeah, you’re good.”

Takuma stands up, claps his hands together once, and looks at you. “Okay. Kill it, Skip.”

“Yessir.” You salute him with a stick and he makes his way to the other room, closing the door behind him.

“All good?” Yuta asks, glancing at each of you in turn before giving Hakari a thumbs up. It’s strange to be on this side of the glass, to think about your music being played back, to think about it on Spotify, out in the world.

“Next Fix,” Takuma says into the mic, locking eyes with you through the window. “Take one in three, two…”

The song starts out simple. You click your sticks together near the mic, on two and four, while Maki lays down a four-bar loop.

Yuta keeps glancing at Maki while she plays, utterly unaware, and the look on his face is so soft you want to shake Maki by the shoulders until she does something about it.

Nobara’s got her eyes closed with the headset over her ears and her hands around the mic, entirely engrossed in the song.

“It’s comin’ on, comin’ strong, spinnin’ up out of the blue, mmm,” she sings, stretching out the vowels. “And I’m on the ground, bleedin’ out, until my next fix of you, ooh.”

Now you start up with a light rock beat, closed hat and a bit of a dragging buzz on the snare hits. Just as you transition into the beat, Toge comes in with some low chords and Yuta moves down the line in syncopated sixteenths.

Hakari is nodding approvingly and Takuma has a wide grin on his face, and you can’t help smiling back.

“I need it like a lung,” Nobara sings, swaying a bit. “I need it like a light. It’s got me twisted up. I need you here tonight, tonight, tonight, oh, oh, I wanna—”

And this part is your favorite—Nobara sings each two-syllable phrase while you pound on the toms twice, emphasizing it with the kick, and then the backup vocals echo her. Get my (get my) next fix (next fix) of you (of you, of you, of you.)

Kirara pumps her fist in the air twice, in time with the beat, and your bandmates can’t keep the smiles off their faces. You’ve got something here, you really do. This might be your best one yet.

When the song’s over, Nobara whoops and tugs off the headphones, jumping around the cramped studio space with a grin on her face. “That was so cool! Oh my god. Guys, we sound good. We actually sound good.”

“Damn,” Kirara calls. “Okay, girl drummer. Good shit.”

“Not bad for a first run,” Maki admits, adjusting her bass strap over her shoulder. “Do we wanna try recording backups separately at all?”

“Good call.” Takuma nods. “Let’s run that again without the backups and record them over, see what happens.” He’s in full producer mode, flipping switches, colored lights reflecting in his eyes as he and Hakari talk shop away from the mic. He’s good at this, you realize, running sessions like this, making sure things go where they need to go, that everyone’s heard, that things get done. It’s a little bit like watching him skateboard, or seeing him on stage. There’s a confidence to him here, a smooth, easy energy. He’s in his element.

“Alright,” he says after a minute. “Let’s hear that again.”

And you play it again. And again. And again. And you are so in love with this moment, with your band, with a couple rowdy kids on the other side of the window, the rasp in Nobara’s voice and the expression on Yuta’s face and Maki’s obliviousness and Toge’s consistent, head-banging keys, and your drums and your words and the music, and the lyrics feel right to you.

You need this like a lung.

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@shutuppeter @mikikkoo @reactwithjan @theclassbookworm @lilactaro @bisforbuse @risararelywrites @idkidk32

a/n: GUYS. loml @shutuppeter is so downbad for soundcloud rapper sukuna that she's writing fanfic of my fanfic😭 credits for frosted flexin' are all hers LMFAO so go check that out (MDNI for that one though).

yutamaki nation rise. also, i kinda love this fic. there may be spinoffs for other characters in the works...

[fenrislorsrai]

The Crow Road

I did in fact read The Crow Road because of Good Omens and it was very meandering with a lot of character study. For a thing summarized as "trying to solve a mystery from papers left behind" it was very uninterested in doing so. It didn't even introduce them for first 100 pages, then didn't refer to them for another 100, then LOST THEM ON THE TRAIN. The book itself is mostly a distraction from solving actual mystery. In no way would I classify this as being Mystery, as in the genre. This is a family saga/coming of age thing. I did enjoy it, but if you're expecting a genre fiction thing, you will hate it.

ANYWAY.

Then we get to the last 20 pages or so of the book and OH MY FUCKING GOD

the rest of this is going under a cut for anyone who actually wants to read The Crow Road themself, but for everyone else, this is directly relevant to the end of season 2, episode 6 AND is NSFW

Toward end of book, MC Prentice figures out "oh, maybe I am actually in love with my best friend, Ash, I should tell here". Oh shit, she's taking a job and moving to Canada! FUCK. Well telling her now is not gonna do anything good here, I blew it.

Ash meanwhile comes to stay with him in his rented place before having to fly out in the morning. The place is tied up in an estate dispute. It has an enormous four poster bed in a room covered in naked paintings of Venus. And mirrors. Pointed at the bed.

They go out for dinner and have a conversation of who owes who for dinner and decide its neither. They walk around a little bit reminiscing about when they were in school. Prentice had once broken her nose with a snowball and thought she didn't know. She says she forgave him right away. It also turns out she knew he was using morse code to tap out rude things at their French teacher.

They get back to the house and she says she's going to turn in early. Goes to give him a kiss on cheek. WHich then turns into kissing. and grabbing ass. They head to the bedroom of Fucking to do just that.

have a couple round and then while tangled up doing effectively some cockwarming, Ash does a little rhymic squeezing via morse code to spell out I-L-U and he does some cock moving to spell out I-L-U-T she still gets up in morning to leave, tehre's that brief, but what if I convince you to stay??? and they basically both agree "no, this is a breakup for work." Ash goes off to do her work contract, Prentice is going to finish his degree and sell the Bentley he just inherited. The split is not forever.

I did not have love confession via morse code while fucking on my bingo card AT ALL.

But good god, that ending there and the kiss there at the end of season2. OH RIGHT, THEY BOTH HAVE DONE SPY STUFF!!! What the fuck are Aziraphale's hands doing? are they frenching with morse code? IF THAT IS WHAT HAPPENED AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

[jeankluv]

The forgotten boy - Geto Suguru | Chapter 02

words: 3,9k

summary: He made a deal with the devil, over 1,000 years ago. Just for the sake of his loved ones but the deal came with a condition. Everyone he met from now on, would forget about his existence within minutes, and will be like that for the rest of the eternity

Like that Suguru Geto has lived for the last 1000 years being forgotten but everyone he met, not being remembered by anyone and being alone.

"You remember me?"

You nodded. “Of course I do.” You smiled. “You have been coming here for a few days now. Always at the same hour and always asking for the same coffee.”

tags: angst, fluff, fantasy au, different lifetimes, dual pov, use of y/n, fem!character, modern settings but also past settings, eventual smut, destiny, characters death (in the flashbacks), blood [more tags in the future]

notes: thank you to everyone who liked and commented the first chapter 🫶 this second chapter is from the pov of y/n, some of the scenes that happened in the first chapter will be tell by y/n’s pov but we will also know more about her. Enjoy 💜

Also for those who read my other fic Birdie, the next chapter will be out this weekend. The chapter it’s a bit long so that’s why it’s taking longer.

materialist | previous chapter | next chapter

ao3 | playlist

You remember seeing him come in on the first day. It had been 10 days since the coffee shop had finally opened and both you and Yuji had been bursting at the seams with work. But you perfectly remember the man's face and sweet smile. You remembered him because in that moment when you saw his eyes, something inside you moved and began to function, as if there had been a piece that had always been missing all your life. And that at that very moment it appeared.

You had tried to get closer to him, there was something that attracted you towards him, as if gravity was pushing you to go towards him. But your hustle and frenetic pace had not allowed you.

On the third, he stayed longer so that’s when you took the courage to go to him. You walked towards him, feeling how your heart was about to come out of your chest at any minute.

“Suguru…”

You shook your head. Why was that coming to you? You kept walking and placed yourself right next to him.

“Do you want more coffee?” You saw the man salthering a bit when you spoke. You were too loud, weren't you? “I have noticed your cup is empty.” You pointed to the cup with a smile, trying to relax your nerves. “You want more?”

The man looked at his empty cup and shook his head. “No, it’s okay.”

What were you doing? He would probably tell you to fuck yourself and never come back there. "But are you sure? It’s in the house, so please accept it.” You smiled.

The man smiled back at you and handed his cup. "Alright." You took the cup between your hands and walked back to the and walked back to the counter.

Yuji immediately noticed your smile and began to pester you with questions. You had known Yuji since you were little, you had gone to school together and you even went to the same college, although different degrees and now there you were once again. You considered him a good friend, although your circle of friends was not even close, you barely knew two of his closest friends and Yuji more of the same with you. But you were grateful that he was your coworker at the coffee shop, he made everything lighter and more entertaining.

You focused your attention back on the coffee. You wanted to be able to make him coffee before the workers from the offices across the street arrived and crowded the establishment, but Yuji started telling you a story and by the time you realized it, the establishment was full and you couldn't leave Yuji alone.

You sighed with resignation and looked back at the table, he was still sitting there, so maybe if the orders were finished quickly you could go to him with his coffee.

“Here you have your order sir!” You smiled giving the last client his order.

You wiped your forehead and turned to make that coffee.

“What are you doing?” Yuji spoke behind you back.

“Preparing this coffee for a client.”

“Which client?”

You turned to look at Yuji and pointed to him. “The one sat on…” He was gone. “He left…”

“There was someone there?” Yuji titled his head.

“Yeah. That cute guy with long black hair and piercings.” Yuji looked at you with confusion. “He comes everyday. I promised him I was going to invite him to a coffee but…” You sighed. “There were too many clients.”

“Well don’t worry, just invite him tomorrow. If he comes back.” Yuji smiled at you.

You nodded and smiled back. That was what you were going to do, you were going to invite him for coffee and maybe try to get to know him better. There was something that made you very curious and you wanted to know more about it.

You spent the next two hours serving customers and clearing tables, until you and Yuji closed. You said goodbye to Yuji upon arriving at the subway stop, as each of you went in opposite directions. You sat in one of the free seats and looked at the views of the city, it was beautiful.

You couldn't stop thinking about the young man in the coffee shop. There was something about him that attracted you so much. You rummaged in your bag and took out an old notebook and a pen and began to draw the silhouette of the young man drinking coffee in the coffee shop. His long, black hair, straight nose, strong jaw and the two earrings, each one in his ear. But then the elegant, almost classic style you could say. They gave it a touch of mystery, timelessness, and intrigue.

Tomorrow you would definitely not miss the opportunity, You would talk to him. Shit you would even take courage and ask for his phone number. Yes, definitely you would do that.

You looked at the drawing, it didn't do justice to how beautiful he looked in person. You closed the notebook when you heard your stop and left the station straight to your house.

Opening the door to your apartment you were greeted by your cat, Blue. You moved to your own apartment after finishing the third year of your career, already three years ago. You used to like sharing dorms but you needed your space.

But the first few weeks you felt lonely, so you adopted Blue, your cat. Blue was still a baby when you adopted her, all her siblings were adopted before her because she was a black cat. But the first moment you saw Blue you knew it was going to be yours. And since then you have been living on your own with Blue.

You sat down on your coach and grabbed your phone from your bag, hoping there would be an email from one of the thousands of jobs applications you sent. But your inbox was the same as yesterday, nothing new.

“Blue.” You looked at your cat, climbing next to you. “Do you think I will be able to work as an artist one day?” Blue purred, stroking her head against your hand. “That’s right, I need to hold some faith, right?” Blue looked at you with those big blue eyes. “And the coffee shop is not that bad. Is great having Yuji with me and you know Blue.” You grabbed her and put her on your lap. “There is a really interesting man coming every single day. Tomorrow I will ask him for his phone number.” You nobbed for yourself .

You laid back with Blue on you and closed your eyes, feeling how sleep was taking over you and the warmth of Blue on top of you helped you to fall asleep in minutes.

˖✧˖°.✶₊ ⊹ ⋆˖✧˖°.✶₊ ⊹ ⋆

“You think we are soulmates?” You smiled wildly. You were looking at a face, a faceless one. But you could tell it was smiling. A smile that was making your heart flush.

“We are.” The faceless person spoke.

˖✧˖°.✶₊ ⊹ ⋆˖✧˖°.✶₊ ⊹ ⋆

“Your drawings are exceptional.” Again the faceless person spoke.

“Thank you. But I doubt anyone would be interested in buying them.” You looked at the portrait.

“I would buy them.”

˖✧˖°.✶₊ ⊹ ⋆˖✧˖°.✶₊ ⊹ ⋆

“It seems I can’t fulfill my promise after all.” You whispered, feeling how your life was coming to your end.

“Please, my love, just hold on.” The faceless person embraced her. “Stay with me. Stay.”

“I’m sorry…”

˖✧˖°.✶₊ ⊹ ⋆˖✧˖°.✶₊ ⊹ ⋆

You woke up startled and with the heart pumping on your ears. It had been a while since those dreams with that faceless person had occurred. Why did they suddenly come back?

You looked outside the window and you could see that it was already dark, had you slept that long? You hadn't felt it that way. You sat up on the couch and sighed. For years when you were little you had recurring nightmares, so much so that your parents sought help, but found absolutely nothing. When you were about 15 years old those nightmares disappeared or at least they were not as recurring as they used to be and if you had them you did not remember them as vivid as you had felt now.

Your tummy rumbled, letting you know that it was time for dinner. You actually had fallen asleep more than you would have liked. Dragging your feet to the kitchen, you opened the refrigerator and to the surprise of no one's, you just had some apples and an egg carton with only two eggs. You sighed to yourself and closed the refrigerator.

“Should I order something to eat?” You asked for yourself. “Or maybe call Utahime and meet her?”

Blue tilted her head, to which you laughed knowing she couldn’t understand a thing of what you were saying. You rubbed her head and walked to where your phone was, searching for the name of Utahime. You pressed call and waited a bit for your best friend. You knew Utahime would pick up, she always did and if she didn’t it was because an emergency was occurring and she couldn’t answer.

“Hello my beloved!” You heard on the other side of the line.

“Hello my princess!” You replied using the nickname you liked to use for her. “Are you free?” You listened as Utahime hummed on the other end of the line. “Would you like to go to dinner at the new restaurant that has opened near my house? It’s on me."

“Sure!” Utahime replied. “I will be there in like 15 minutes, I was shopping nearby so it won’t take me long.”

“You bought new clothes?”

“Of course I did.” You heard the sound of bags moving. “You will love them, you will see.”

“Can’t wait. I will see you there.”

“Okay, bye!”

“Bye!”

You left your phone on the kitchen table and walked to your room to change. You looked in the closet for a long skirt and a sweater. It was already spring, but the nights were still cold. You put your makeup back on and smiled to yourself in the mirror. You walked to the kitchen and grabbed your cell phone from the table, saying goodbye to Blue.

"Behave well. Mom will be back in a while.” Your cat meowed back and nuzzled your hand with her head.

Leaving your house you walked to the new restaurant that was opened a month ago. You, along with Utahime, Shoko and Yuki, loved meeting up to have dinner or a drink and then go to karaoke. But this week Shoko was full of work at the hospital, putting in non-stop hours and Yuki had traveled abroad again. So today would be a night just for you and Utahime.

You had met Utahime in high school, you were put together for a task and you had become practically neck and neck, later you met Shoko and finally Yuki joined. The four of you had become extremely close, so much so that in class you always ended up in detention for chatting. But to tell the truth, you didn't care at all.

Entering the restaurant you asked for a table for two, luckily you were placed at the tables that had armchairs. Utahime always said that these types of seats were much better than regular chairs, because in the end they left your butt sore.

You looked through the menu while waiting for your friend to arrive. Your mouth was actually watering just looking at the names of the dishes.

“Y/n!” You heard on the entrance. There she was, your best friend, wearing dark sunglasses, although it had been dark for a long time, and a face mask. Many times you wondered if this would draw less attention or attract more attention.

“Hime!” You waved at her and she rushed to sit in front of you. “You really bought!” You said looking at the bags.

“What can I do? I got paid and my heart was screaming.” She made a sad face. “I bought so many cute dresses!” She showed you a blueish dress with a ribbon on the back. “Cute right?”

“It’s just your style.” You smiled.

“I know.” She said excitedly. “But now tell me, how is your job in the new coffee shop going?”

“It’s interesting, I like it.”

“I remember back in college you saying how much you loved going to the old coffee shop that was nearby for the smell of the coffee.”

“And it’s true, the smell is so nice.” You pointed out.

“It’s good to hear you are doing okay.” She grabbed the menu. “And if you want, you can always work for me, I would love to have you on my team. All your paintings are just breathtaking.” She encouraged you.

“I know, but I want to achieve it on my own. But still appreciate your proposal” You sighed.

She nodded and looked back at the menu. “Oh!” She opened her eyes wildly. “Let’s try this!” She pointed at the menu.

“Looks nice.”

“Right?!” She called the waitress and ordered for both of you. “By the way.” You looked at her. “Have you noticed Yuki’s attitude lately?”

“Hmm.” You shook your head. “Something happened to her?”

“I think she is seeing someone.” You opened your eyes in surprise. “Lately she has been glowing so much. Let me tell you something y/n you only get that look when you are in love with someone.”

“Do you for real think Yuki is seeing someone?” Utahime nodded. “What kind of person do you think they are?”

“No idea, but I’m sure Yuki chose correctly.”

The order came and you both thanked the waitress and started eating your dinner.

“By the way.” You spoke, swallowing the piece you just ate. “How was your last date with the guy?”

“Don’t.” Utahime cut you off. “Don’t ever mention that date or that guy. My agency thought it would be a good idea for both of us to go out on a date, and you know get publicity because he is an actor, I’m a singer and you know all that. But ugh, he got on my nerves.”

“Was it that bad?”

“The word bad is too nice to describe it.”

The two of you continued chatting and eating until finally you were only left with the glass of wine on the table. Utahime insisted on going to bars at night now, because you were young and you deserved it. But you reminded her that tomorrow you had to get up early to open the coffee shop and Utahime stopped insisting.

You paid the bill and the two of you left the establishment, although Utahime used to drink and tolerated alcohol well today it seemed that had not been the case, seeing how she moved from one side to the other.

“Stay with me today.” You said grabbing her to which she nodded.

You entered your apartment with Utahime, being greeted by Blue as she always did. You gave Utahime a glass of water and then settled her on your bed. She had really gone too far with the drinks. You smiled when you saw how she was sleeping. She was lucky no one had met her, Utahime was a singer. And a pretty well-known singer to tell the truth. She was discovered by a talent scout years ago and had not stopped working since then.

You lay down next to Utahime and told yourself again that you would achieve your dream on your own. You would make it. You appreciated Utahime's offer but you wanted to do it yourself.

˖✧˖°.✶₊ ⊹ ⋆˖✧˖°.✶₊ ⊹ ⋆

You left the note on the table and rushed to the coffee shop. The alarm hadn't gone off and now you were running through the city because you were going to be late. You had to hurry the first hours and the first hours in the morning were always the busiest and you couldn't leave Yuji alone tending the place.

“Just on time.” Yuji smiled, opening the door for you.

“Thank you.” You said trying to catch your breath. “The metro wasn’t very crowded so I was able to make it on time.”

“What happened?”

“I went out with a friend yesterday and the alarm didn’t rang.” You grimaced. “But luckily my biological clock woke me up.” You looked at him and noticed his tired eyes. “Were you playing video games all night again?”

Yuji scratched his head and laughed. “Megumi and I wanted to try a new video game that came out yesterday and we spent all night playing.” He took the apron that was hanging on the coat rack and put it on. “But I'm perfect! Today is going to be a great day right y/n?”

“If you say so.” You smiled at him and also put on the apron.

You turned the sign at the entrance and you and Yuji began to serve the first customers, little by little the coffee shop filled up and before you realized it was packed and you were walking around from one side to the other. Taking orders and serving them. By the time you tried to blink, 3 hours had already passed.

You looked around searching for a specific person in the place. You heart skipped when you saw him again, sat on the same place, wearing a similar outfit and again with the man bun on.

“Who is that coffee for?” You asked Yuji.

“Huh?” He turned the paper around. “It says Kento.” He scratched the back of his neck. “Kento? I don’t know who…”

“I know who he is.” You grabbed the coffee. “I will give it to him. Don’t worry.” Yuji nodded and went back to taking a new order.

You took a deep breath and started walking towards the table where he used to sit. Next to the window. It had good views, you could see the main avenue and how people were hustling from one side to the other. During the days that you had seen him, you had noticed that he used to spend long periods there, reading the newspaper and looking out the window. But always alone. You wondered if he had anyone to share a coffee or a chat with.

Your hands shook the closer you got to the table. You should breathe, just talk to him a little and maybe ask for his number. But without looking crazy.

You cleared your throat before setting the coffee down on the table and smiling at him. “Here.” He looked at you with a surprised look on his face. “I’m sorry for yesterday. I got busy with my coworker Yuji and when I was going to give you your order, you were already gone.” You explained. “That’s why, this one is on me.”

He still didn't say a word. You noticed how he got paler after those words left your lips. Was he okay?

“Is everything okay?” You tilted you head looking at him with curiosity.

“You…” He swallowed, trying to moisten his dry throat. "You remember me?"

You nodded. “Of course I do.” You smiled. “You have been coming here for a few days now. Always at the same hour and always asking for the same coffee.”

Why was he so surprised? You couldn’t understand it but he didn’t look okay.

“You are okay?” You moved closer to him with clear concern on your face.

“I…” He tried to catch his breath, he felt like he was out of breath and in any moment he was going to pass out.

“Hey!” You touched his shoulder and kneeled in front of him. “Tried to follow my breathing okay?” He nodded. And followed your instructions.

“Thank you.” He whispered.

“It’s nothing, but you scared me.” You stood back up. “Kento…”

He looked at you, with a look that you could tell he was confused but then relieved. “Yeah, that’s me… You haven’t told me your name.”

“Y/n.” You said with a smile.

You heard your name being called by Yuji. Shit. Your time was over and you didn’t even get a chance to ask his number but almost gave him a panic attack.

“I’m coming Yuji!” You shouted and turned around to look at him once again. “My coworker is calling me. But stay here as much as you want.”

“I will.” He said your name once again to say goodbye.

“Bye Kento!”

You could die if you heard him pronounce your name one more time. It was so elegant and subtle. You got to Yuji and he looked at you with a face like “what's wrong with you?” to which you tried to ignore him and continue with the work.

Once the clients decreased you started cleaning the area, you needed to be active or you would go absolutely crazy. You heard Yuji talking to someone, so you decided to look over his shoulder. To see Kento in front of the counter talking to Yuji. Instinctively you smiled and stopped what you were doing to go there.

“Oh Kento!” You approached them with a smile.

“Hi.” He whispered only you were able to hear him.

“Y/n, you know him?” The boy wondered.

“Yeah! He comes here every single day, at the same hour and orders the same thing.” You kept on looking at him. “You literally attended to him all these days!”

“Did I?” He titled his head. “I’m sorry I can’t remember.”

“Don’t worry.” He smiled. “A lot of people come here, it’s normal that you don’t remember me.”

“With that face it is hard to forget about you…” You whispered for yourself.

Or maybe it wasn’t for yourself. Shit.

“Oh.” You covered your mouth. “Did I say that out loud?” He nodded. “Sorry! That was very inappropriate! But I think it’s true…You are really handsome and a face like yours is not easy to forget.”

“Thank you. I think you are the first person that has ever told me that.” You nervously looked around, trying to hide somewhere after what you said. You were so stupid. “I wanted to talk with you.” You looked back at him. “If you have time.”

You looked around and nodded. “Yeah, there isn’t a lot of people around, so it’s fine.” You walked to the side, so you wouldn’t disturb the people. “What did you want to talk about?”

“I was wondering when do you finish your shift.”

You opened your mouth, forming an O in surprise. “In…” You thought for a moment. “An hour and a half.”

“Great.” He nodded. “Then I would like to invite you to a coffee, if that’s okay with you of course.”

“I…” You were going crazy, was he asking you out? Oh my god .

“Sorry, I probably made you uncomfortable.”

“No, no it’s not that.” You shook your head. “We can go and grab a coffee without a problem.” That made Kento smile. “But I will have to leave early, I have other things to take care of.” He nodded.

“It’s fine by me.”

“Then… I will see you once my shift is over.”

“Alright.”

Did you have a date? You had a date in less than two hours. You wanted to scream and dance, but you had to behave after all you were at work. Your cheeks hurt from smiling so much. Or by God, what was happening to you, you were really happy.

“Suguru.”

You stopped dead and touched your head, that name and that headache again. What was the name Su… Sug… damn you had forgotten, again.

— comment if you want to be tagged

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[copperbadge]

oft-goes-awry

... someone needs to buy Ephraim a lot of Williams College merch. Because we are the Ephs. After founder Ephraim Williams. And I think he'd enjoy wearing all the purple cow stuff.

Huh, that's quite timely and interesting actually. There's literally a passage in the story I just posted a scene from, concerning Ephraim and school:

He had some trouble at school sometimes, but his teachers couldn't deny that he was a good, earnest student. He could have gone to college, but he had a good job at the garage the family owned, doing detailing and van art, and his parents made it clear they'd like him to go to college but weren't going to demand a degree at the expense of his mental health. Besides, he brought in business. 

And I'm noting that Williams College has a one-semester maritime program at Mystic-Seaport where you learn maritime history and law and culture. Now who do we know who has a penchant for boats...

Noah and Ephraim are, especially as younger men, sort of like planets in orbit; they do separate, sometimes for long periods, they just always come back into proximity. And Ephraim's well smart enough to go to college, it's just that up until he was a little older, he wouldn't handle the stress and the strangers well. But if, say, Noah were to do the Mystic-Seaport semester, possibly even as a guest lecturer given his qualifications, Ephraim might tag along and find that he likes Williams and is comfortable enough there to stay. (I realize that the maritime program and the actual school are not in proximity but presumably Noah would have business at the school at times, and might end up getting Ephraim housing there on the cheap.) He's really only ever experienced UCSC, which is massive, so he might find he's actually okay at a school like Williams, which is about the size of my own undergrad. It's possible that with his portfolio, he might even be able to get into the Art History MA program without an undergraduate degree. Especially if Eddie or Grandmother Patricia decide Williams could use a new endowed scholarship program for nontraditional students.

Noah at that point will be touring anyway, doing stand-up, so there's no reason for Eph to stay either in Santa Luna or Fons-Askaz. Say Noah's 23 when he finishes up the guest professorship, Ephraim would be 26, graduate two years later -- and given the story I want to tell about Noah in his late twenties, that would time out nicely.

I'll have to tuck it away for consideration if/when I get that far. I like that idea. The Banana Slug and the Purple Cow return to the Little Country By The Sea. :D

[trblsvt]

Hi, idk if you're taking requests (feel free to ignore me if you aren't) but I was thinking about something today

I'm working on a thesis paper for my degree, and I've really been struggling the past couple days. How do you think the members of svt would help when you are struggling to focus on an assignment?

Who would be keeping you stocked on snacks and making sure you stay hydrated? Who would be helping you find research to support your paper? Would someone suggest you take breaks when struggling? Is there anyone who would just try to stay out of the way to avoid being an additional distraction?

thank you for sending this in, this is actually so cute!

pairing | ot13 x fem!reader genre | fluff; college!au warnings | mentions of just studying a lot (if that's even a warning) summary | short scenarios of seventeen members taking care of their s/o when it's peak studying time min | lowercase intended. i actually think i can come up with ideas for all thirteen members

choi seungcheol

you were just so stubborn. "she couldn't possibly study the whole day away," seungcheol grumbled to himself, but he knew you indeed could. lucky for you, he wasn't going to let you do that. he would make you go out for a bit.

he frowned when he saw you hunched over one of your textbooks. "hey," he mumbled approaching you slowly. he stood behind you, hands on your shoulders, and he peered at your computer screen. some sort of coding language he wouldn't even try to engage with. "want to take a break?" he whispered into your ear, sending a shiver down your spine.

"i can't," he practically heard the frown in your voice, not to mention the exhaustion.

"you can," he said, fingers tracing shapes on your arms. "come on, come lie down with me. just for a little bit. i promise you can go back to your work after you come here." you looked at your screen and back to where he stood behind you. you glanced at your screen one last time and got up. "fine, just for a little bit," you grumbled.

"that's my girl," he smiled, pulling you down onto the bed and wrapping you up into his arms. maybe it wasn't going outside or anything like that, but nothing beat having you in his arms. soon enough, you dozed off and your school work had to wait a bit longer.

yoon jeonghan

jeonghan was the distraction you didn't know you needed. "___, come take a look at my new lego set," he called from the living room. you sighed and rubbed your eyes. "i can't, han. i've got to finish this presentation today," you said. he frowned. you were working too hard for the past few hours. he looked at his completed lego set and determined it was small enough for him to pick and up and bring it to you. he shuffled his way to your bedroom where you were working and held out his construction. "look, it's so cute, right?" he smiled. you looked up, and you couldn't help but melt a little. he looked so proud of his little set. "yes, it is very cute, jeonghan. nice job," you smiled.

"well, i have another one i have to build, and i need you to help me," he grinned and grabbed your hand. when you went out into the living room, there were about three other sets ready to be constructed. "now, which one do you want to do?" he asked, squeezing your hand.

"i want to do the flower one," you pointed.

"i was thinking the same thing." maybe a lego break would do you some good.

hong joshua

he would always ask you if you wanted to go out and do something. constantly. every hour. "___, want to go out to the art festival today?" he asked. "they have a bunch of global artists there to show case their art. i'll buy you something you like it."

"josh, i would love to, but these slides aren't get studied by themselves.

"i saw some of the artists on instagram, and they have some really great jewelry. it would look so beautiful on you."

damn him. he knew you were a sucker for handmade jewelry. he came up behind you and draped himself over your shoulders. his cheek brushing yours, and you could feel the cool metal of his earrings against your head. "come on, just for an hour or two," he pleaded. "don't i get to treat my girl once and a while?" you couldn't disagree with that. "then come on, let me treat you. plus, you're already so smart, no need to read these slides again." you sighed, relaxing in his hold.

"there was this gorgeous necklace i saw, would look so good on you," he continued, and he would until he got to clasp that necklace around your neck.

wen junhui

"eat," he said, shoving a bowl of noodles under your face. you stared at him. "i just ate," you shrugged.

"lies. eat."

"you're calling me a liar, wen junhui?"

"yes."

the two of you exchanged stares until you picked up the bowl and ate a bite. he looked satisfied, but he still didn't leave. he actually pulled a chair next to you and crossed his arms, still watching you intently. "what are you doing?" you asked.

"i'm not leaving until you finish eating that entire bowl," he shrugged. you gaped at him. no way. he seriously wasn't going to sit there and watch you eat, was he? jun was like this about food. he always made sure you were eating, no matter what. you couldn't exactly say no when his cooking was so good either. but this, was crazy. "no," you shook your head.

"yes," he nodded. "now tell me about that classmate who has been bugging you."

kwon soonyoung

he was a touchy person. he knew that. you knew that. so when he couldn't be close to you, he got antsy. he got especially antsy when he could easily be with you, but also couldn't because you were preoccupied with something else. today was an instance of that. you were watching some lecture and taking notes. you were clearly busy and preoccupied, but all he wanted was to be close to you. "___," he whined from his place on the couch. "soonyoung," you responded.

"___." he didn't know what to say. he wanted to be close to you. he wanted you in his arms, but that wouldn't be practical with you taking notes. "come here, soonyoung," you called. you knew what was wrong. he was being all clingy again, so you had to indulge him even if you were busy.

he happily popped up off the couch and made his way over to the table. he took his seat next to you. "are you done?" he asked. you shook your head. oh, well then why did you want him over here if you weren't done? "give me your hand," you said, extending your unoccupied hand to him. he did without asking, and he felt better when your fingers clasped against his. "better?" you asked. he nodded. "good, now once i finish, you'll get all the attention you want," you promised.

jeon wonwoo

wonwoo didn't like to disturb you when you were studying. he knew how distracting it could be, so if you were studying he would just come over read a book until you were done. today was different though. he saw how in the past twenty minutes you hadn't even flipped the page. he stared, debating about whether he should ask you about it. your head was in your hands, obviously staring at the page in front of you. "___?" he called out quietly. "are you okay?" he heard you huff, but you didn't say anything. after a couple seconds he saw you shake your head. "aw, baby, come here," he cooed, bookmarking his book.

you sighed and grabbed the text book you were supposed to be reading. "i don't know, i'm reading the words, but nothing's processing and i have to read these pages by thursday," you complained. wonwoo took the book from your hands and let you curl up next to him. "would you like to sleep some? maybe that'll help you later," he suggested.

"i have to read these pages now, wonwoo," you sighed.

"here, i'll read the pages to you then. it'll be like a podcast." you told him the pages, and he pulled up a blanket to cover the both of you. he began reading out loud, and soon enough he noticed you had been lulled into sleep. (you would never admit it to his face, but his voice was just so calming, how could you not fall asleep listening to it?)

lee jihoon

"when's the last time you had water?" he frowned. you looked around your desk. you wanted to say you had something to drink recently, but that would be such a lie. you had no clue the last time you drank anything. time seemingly slipped away. "i don't know, recently. i must've left my glass out there last time i was out," you shrugged. he shook his head. you were just like him in this way. you would always nag him about his hydration and he would blow you off. you would question why he was looking out for you so much and he would do the same. "if that's true, then that means that was about three hours ago," he crossed his arms.

"keeping close tabs on me i see," you said scrolling through the pdf on your computer.

"get up, you're getting water. you need to stretch your legs too."

"are you ordering me around?"

"yes, it's for your own good. you're withering away like a dehydrated plant," he said simply squeezing your shoulder. he was right. the longer he talked about water, the parched feeling in your throat grew. fine. he was right. you needed to get some water.

lee seokmin

"just take a nap! it'll be good for you!" he nagged. you practically hissed at him. "see! this is what i'm saying. don't be so stubborn, come on," he begged.

"seokmin, i can't! i have an exam tomorrow!" you exclaimed. you desperately needed a break, but this exam was life or death for your grade. "come on, you're not going to learn anything new at this point! you'll do great!" he insisted. he was probably right, there wasn't much you could do at this point. you knew what you knew. you hated admitting he was right in these situations. somehow he had learned your study habits better than yourself. "what will you give me if i take a nap?" you shot back suddenly. his eyebrows scrunched up, confused. "give you?" he repeated. "i don't know, a kiss." you pouted. a kiss didn't sound half bad right now. "come on, just sleep a little. have some faith in yourself," he begged.

"get me ice cream and we can talk about this nap thing," you countered.

"anything! i'll do anything for you to rest! just please, rest."

kim mingyu

"this is really boring," mingyu complained.

"i agree," you groaned.

"then let's go do something!"

"mingyu, please, just sit down for a little bit longer." mingyu had this thing if he sat too long watching you do something, that excluded him, he would get antsy. he wanted to do everything with you, but because he had zero knowledge about your studies, it was hard to keep up. you could sense his movement behind you. you needed to find a way to distract him from distracting you, just for another hour or so. "gyu," you called.

"yes," he perked up.

"did you go through those pictures i picked up yesterday?"

"no..."

"how about you go through those, and i promise once you're done i will be done too. just sort through them. they're super cute, it'll totally take up a lot of time." he huffed. he knew what you were doing. you were distracting him. but he did want to see the photos. you insisted the two of you use a disposable camera for your recent vacation, and he agreed. he wanted to see how the aesthetic turned out. "you promise you'll be done?" he asked, getting up.

"yes."

"okay, i'll look through them." when he left, he realized you were right about a couple things. one, the pictures looked gorgeous. two, flipping through the photos took up a lot of his time, and soon enough you were done.

xu minghao

minghao didn't really want to disturb you, so he didn't. he knew you were capable, so he didn't feel the need to nag you so much about breaks or food. of course he would cut an extra serving of fruit for you and leave it at the edge of your desk.

today was no different. you were at your desk typing away and he stopped by and left a plate of fruit on a pile of books. "hao?" you called out before he could leave. he hummed, acknowledging you. "can i ask you a huge favor?" you hesitated. he knew you never asked him for much, so he wondered what this could be about? "could you possibly copy down the vocab for this set of notes?" you asked. when he didn't respond immediately, you got worried. it was a crazy request, why would you drag your amazing boyfriend down with organic chemistry vocabulary? "actually, don't mind me. that's a stupid thing for me to ask. don't worry about it, i'll get to it later," you rushed, waving your hand at him.

"are you saying if i copy down these terms, you'll be done faster and we can watch that movie we've been planning on watching?" he asked, smirking.

"yes, hypothetically."

"hand over the note cards, i've been dying to watch to watch that movie."

boo seungkwan

"you have enough food, right?" he asked, peaking his head through the door.

"yes," you responded.

he nodded and went back out to the living room.

"water? you're hydrated, right?" he asked, not even two minutes later.

"yes," you sighed. "seungkwan, babe, i'm fed and hydrated. i just need to focus on this for one second. i'm okay, i promise." he looked at you and looked at your half empty water glass. "okay, i'll just fill this up real quick! then i can sit in here!"

seungkwan was a bit of a worrier. he always had been. from the first date, he asked you about ten different times if you were cold within the first five minutes. he constantly made sure you were eating enough food and drinking enough water. "you know, i think you should get a snack. i know it hasn't been long since lunch, but all this thinking is burning up all your energy," he said, as he entered the room again with a full glass of water. you learned to accept seungkwan's caring actions, it was the way he said "i love you." and as much as you wanted your alone time to study, you could never say no to him. plus, at this point you think he's your lucky charm.

choi vernon

"this is what i found," vernon said, tossing some books and papers onto your bed. you turned around in your chair and stared at the hardcover books an a couple packets of notes on your bed. "what is this?" you asked, rubbing your eyes.

"this is analysis of journalism throughout the 1960s, right?" he asked.

"yes, i don't understand how that's relevant."

"well, these books are written biographies about promient figures of the 60s, these are research papers about media bias from 1900 to 2000, and these-" he rambled, shuffling through the papers.

only then you realized that vernon had taken it upon himself to find you extra material to include in your analysis. you got up from your place at your desk and wrapped your arms around vernon, who was still talking about the material he gathered for you. "woah, okay, hi," he laughed, wrapping his arms around your waist. you pushed him down on the bed and there you were, together. "what's this for?" he whispered. "did i get the wrong information?"

"no, you got it just right," you murmured. how could someone be as perfect as him?

lee chan

he was so proud of you. you were such a hard worker, but he couldn't physically bring himself to sit in the room and watch you type away on your computer for another minute. plus, he felt a bit awkward too, just sitting there watching your eyes dart across your screen. so usually when you studied, he left the house for a while or just stayed away from wherever you were studying.

if he went out he made sure to pick up some food to celebrate after you finished studying for the night. he remembered the first time he did it. "i got you food, so we can celebrate!" he exclaimed. you stared at him like he was crazy. "i haven't even finished studying yet," you had crossed your arms.

"yeah, i know! but progress is progress! you worked hard. we need to celebrate," he shrugged waving you over. the tradition continued.

he came home with two bags of takeout with all your favorite things. he started to unpack all the food onto the table when you shuffled out of your room. "mmm that smells amazing, thank you so much, chan," you hummed, kissing chan on the cheek.

"anything for my hard worker, let's eat," he smiled.

min | haha this so cute, thank you anon for sending this in :) of course feedback is appreciated! also not proofread at the moment! tagging: @a-wandering-stay

message or send in an ask if you want to be added to my taglist :)

[carisisrolledupsleeves]

79. "we're not just friends you know that" with Sonny please please

thank you anon, i hope you like.....listening to one of my favorite songs (First Love/Late Spring by Mitski) inspired this....also Peter in Mutual Friends gif because I needed something pre-SVU (also i love Nate sm, iykyk)

i got a bit carried away with this ngl

PS: to anyone else sending prompts, im gonna be super busy in the next few days so i have no idea when ill be able to write again but keep on sending them!

‘Carisi, I swear to God you stay the fuck away from me with that water gun!’ you squeal while running to the other side of the pool to escape the ice-cold water stream he’s been trying to aim at you. 

‘You’re gonna get wet eventually!’ he warns with a smirk, making it sound incredibly suggestive. 

You shake your head at him and roll your eyes but you can’t help blushing at the same time. Admittedly, you love his childish attempts at teasing you, and you know in this atmosphere and with all the alcohol flowing this weekend, the flirting will only get worse. Not that it ever leads to anything. You’re just friends, it’s innocent. So far. And you tell yourself you don’t want it to go further even though you catch yourself staring, your eyes wandering over his body as he takes off his shirt. 

It’s always been like that between you two. Ever since you met as undergrads at St. John’s a few years ago, taking the same sociology course. Sonny ended up sitting next to you, and that same evening you found each other again at a party and had started talking. He was sweet, and funny, and you could see yourself falling for him immediately if it hadn’t been for your recent heartbreak, that grueling breakup from your highschool sweetheart. You’d still had feelings for your ex although looking back now, it must have been nostalgia, and the fact that along with him, you had left girlhood behind for good. Going off to college meant becoming an adult and starting this new chapter was scary. When you met Sonny, all you needed was a friend. And he had been an amazing friend to you all these years, without ever asking for more. 

‘What’s that?’ your girlfriend asks, pointing at your chin and you avert your gaze from Sonny. 

‘What?’ you instinctively touch your face.

‘Oh, it’s nothing. Just swear I could see a bit of drool there.’ she laughs and you shove her.

‘Stop!’ 

‘Hey, I don’t blame you! He is hot. And you know he’s been checking you out in that bikini.’ she states and you swallow the lump in your throat just to let out an awkward laugh. 

‘We’re just playing around. You know how he is. It’s not that serious.’ you don’t know who you’re trying to convince, her or yourself. 

It’s true, your friendship has always been on the verge of becoming something more. The flirting wasn’t even the worst of it; it was the intimacy you shared, the fact that you had always been there for each other when times got tough. When Sonny questioned his choice of becoming a cop after finishing his degree in criminal justice, wishing he had gone to law school instead of the police academy. When your mom had that cancer scare and your dad was losing it, absolutely helpless and unable to take care of himself while she was getting her treatment. It wasn’t just fun and games. At the end of the day you had a deep and true friendship, and neither of you wanted to throw that away. 

But you can feel something shift. It is the way he looks at you as the sun goes down on that first day of your 4th of July weekend. Between laughs and giggles your eyes meet and he gets all quiet and serious, and there’s something in the air you can’t quite grasp. Or maybe it’s the way that friend of a friend asks you about him. If he’s single, and her smile in his direction when you tell her he’s not seeing anyone as far as you know. And then as you get tipsy in order to forget about it all, you realize that he’s keeping his distance for some reason, when he would normally be right by your side, having shots with you, annoying you with his lame jokes. 

Your phone vibrates and it’s a text from Sonny. A song by one of your favorite artists that you weren’t even aware he knew of. You look up to scan the crowd for him and find him sitting by the pool by himself, a bottle of beer in his hand. 

But I find that lately I’ve been crying like a tall child

You know the lyrics by heart, and there it is again, the lump in your throat. And that devastating feeling in your gut you’ve ignored so many times in the past. The longing to be close to him, to reach out and touch him, you’ve fought time and time again. His eyes meet yours and you draw in a sharp breath, wishing he would just go back to goofing around with you instead of this. Because this, you can’t come back from, you can’t undo.  

The only thing you can do is flee but he catches up with you just as you reach the top of the stairs, about to go hide in your room. Sonny’s hand grabs yours and you turn around to face him. And all of a sudden his lips are on yours.

Even if you wanted to protest, you can’t. It feels too good. After the initial shock you kiss him back, your hands are around his neck as his wrap around your waist. Maybe this isn’t right but you want it. You want him. Finally admitting it to yourself is your doom but what if it’s a blessing at the same time? Harboring this secret for so long, these fantasies you had about him and you, what if he’s had them too? Or was it all just another silly little game encouraged by the summer heat and booze?

Please, hurry, leave me, I can’t breathe

Please don’t say you love me

A spark shoots through you and starts to linger between your thighs as his tongue slips into your mouth, a needy moan on his breath. No, you can’t. You can’t give in to this if it’s simply a desire you have to satisfy, or curiosity. Your friendship means too much to you, and it would ruin everything. 

One word from you and I would jump off of this ledge I’m on, baby

Tell me “don’t” so I can crawl back in

You push him away and Sonny gives you a confused look, searching your eyes for the answer to a question that hasn’t been asked. 

‘We can’t, Sonny.’

‘Why not?’ 

‘Because…I know we would regret it. And then I would lose my best friend.’ you reply, looking down on the floor to avoid his blue eyes piercing into yours.

‘We’re not just friends, you know that.’ he whispers, his finger under your chin lifting up your head again. 

‘Don’t…’ you’re scared of what he’s going to say next but it bursts out of him.

‘I’ve been in love with you since the day I met you. But I knew you were hurting and being your friend was enough for me. I would never ask for more if I didn’t think it is what you wanted as well. And now we’ve been in denial for so long, and I keep thinking, what if it’s all in my head, y’know? So, please. Tell me it’s not all just in my head.’ he pleads and you can see his eyes filling with tears and it feels like your heart is twisting around itself in your chest. 

‘It’s not just in your head.’ you assure softly, your hand reaching out to touch his cheek where an ecstatic smile appears. 

‘So you’re in love with me too?’ Sonny asks, sounding like a little boy. 

It’s time to let go of your fears. Your own insecurities that had been holding you back although he had always brightened your day, always made your heart beat faster, ever since he asked you your name on that very first day of college. 

‘I am, Dominick. I’m in love with you.’ you confess, biting your lip shyly before kissing him again. 

A sweet, timid kiss, and yet it doesn’t take long until you pull him towards your room, shoving him against the door the second it closes. He groans, his hands traveling under your short sundress before almost tearing it off you. The rest of your clothes, and his, follow, landing all across the room. 

‘Fuck, you should always be naked. You’re so beautiful.’ Sonny breathes as you push him down on the bed, straddling him. 

‘I would get arrested.’ you grin, feeling him hard against you.

‘Good thing I’m gonna be a cop soon.’ he chuckles, his hands wandering over your body, making you tremble as one finds its way to your wet folds.

‘Dominick…’ you moan his name as he starts dragging his fingers back and forth through you, his thumb on your clit, massaging there. His touch is heavenly. 

You lift your hips again to guide his hard cock into you, letting him fill you to the hilt as you sink down on him. Fuck. In all your wildest fantasies you could have never imagined how amazing he would feel, stretching you in the most delightful way, throbbing so deep inside you. His thighs tense as he lets out the prettiest moan, taking in the sensation of your pussy around him, so wet and tight.

‘God, baby, you…-fuck!’ Sonny pants as you start moving on him, your fingers digging into his shoulders, waves of pleasure already crashing over your body. 

Finally being with him is exhilarating. The way he grips your hips, pulling you down harder onto him, showing you exactly how badly he wanted you for all this time. And you’re desperate for him too; your lips on his neck, sucking, licking, nibbling as blind passion takes over. His deep moans are music to your ears, unleashing something inside you you didn’t know was there before. You push him back on the bed in order to ride him harder, and his mouth hangs open as he watches his cock disappear into your glistening cunt. It doesn’t take long and you’re both panting hot messes, close to your orgasms. Sonny reaches down to find your clit, rubbing tight circles and you clench around him in response, feeling yourself climbing towards that peak and you steady yourself on his chest, smiling down at him. 

‘’You’re so fucking hot.’ you purr breathlessly. ‘You’re gonna m-make me c-cum. Fuck! Dominick!’ 

He thrusts up into you roughly, hitting that sweet spot just right, sending you over the edge. You come hard, scratching his skin and making him hiss as your pussy twitches around his cock. Your orgasm is earth-shattering, and if it wasn’t for the loud music downstairs, everyone would have heard your moans, the string of curse words leaving your mouth as you shake. You keep riding him, your flushed body grinding against his as you feel him tensing beneath you, and he spills into you, crying out your name. Fuck, having him come inside you makes you feel even more delirious; having him rub your clit still, making you pulsate around him again and again. 

When you finally collapse next to him you are both struggling to catch your breaths, and your thighs are still shaking as he pulls you close, kissing your hair. You remain like this for God knows how long before you decide you’re in need of a shower and you get up, dragging Sonny with you to the bathroom where you turn on the light.

‘Oh shit!’ you gasp, staring at his chest.

‘Guess I will have to keep my shirt on for the rest of the weekend.’ Sonny states, as he looks down, noticing the red scratch marks all over his upper body.

‘I’m so sorry.’ you cover your mouth with your hand, looking at him apologetically. 

‘Don’t be. I like it.’ he bites his lip, wiggling his brows at you. 

You have to laugh, and he reaches out to tickle you, to make you laugh even harder. The excitement of it all makes you dizzy. Dominick makes you dizzy. And your hands are all over him once more as you step into the shower, the feeling of his body pressed against yours making you moan again.  

request a prompt from the smut prompt list 🔥

[eliotlime]

End of September Update

Just as a heads up, I'll be closing my commissions after the first week of October (06/10/2024) just so I can focus on other projects! If you'd like to order a bug from me or get any of my other regular commissions now's a good time to do so!

(Bugstyle | Regular Comms)

I made a really brief post on twitter about what I'm up to but since tumblr supports more text I'll just go into more depth on what projects I'm working on at the moment and general life updates!

I used to write blog posts on wordpress for school and it's just hilarious that I stopped doing that considering it feels like I was born to blog!

In general, I've been trying to crawl out of this very odd mood swing-y state I've been in for the past year. I've been semi-public about it but I graduated with a degree in animation same time last year and have sort of been recovering from the absolute burn out of that as well as watching the animation industry essentially collapse just as I left college.

I'm hoping to get into UI/UX design this coming October and try to piece what little control I have of my life back together. I don't really know what I'm doing to be honest and it feels like I'm just pawing in the dark with a lot of this stuff.

In lighter news I've been trying to get into something I've always wanted to for years which is comics! I'm not sure how much I can speak about it at the moment but I just got into an anthology which is very exciting.

I applied to shortbox last year but didn't get in :( but fingers crossed I'll get in next year! On a related note I've made a Cara profile which I'm using as a comics portfolio and archive.

--

Those of you who've been following me for years know that I've had a webcomic project called, Happenstance (which I've restarted endlessly for about 10 years at this point). While I don't really have a concrete update of that for you guys I will say that the story is more or less fixed and whatever version of it I have now is most likely the version I'll proceed with in the future.

I did try to get the ball rolling with this at the start of the year with a pilot comic but it made me so miserable to work on it I abandoned it and started making an unrelated zine instead haha

I do have plans on finishing this eventually and it'll be up on my itch.io and gumroad like everything else!

Speaking of the zine, I'd just like to thank everyone who purchased Cute Thing! I think for my first independent book project it did pretty well! It was incredibly embarrassing and nerve wrecking to promote it but I'm glad I did it.

I don't know why there's an 18+ warning on this considering this zine is pretty tame.

I guess it also helped that that stupid ass diary comic i made blew up at the same time so I got to shill my wares in relation to it. Even though I think it gave me some kind of psychological damage but every time i gain minor internet fame i shrink back into my shell anyway, this is just the first time i really felt so much.. vitriol from randos lol.

It's just hilarious it overlapped with whatever guilty gear obsession I had at the time as well. Thank you to everyone who stuck around and uh.. sorry! I walk wherever the wind takes me and it's frequently towards my own characters.

But! Speaking of Guilty Gear, I am working on an Abacelsus zine I briefly talked about on twitter a couple months back. The title is sort of pending at the moment and while I did say it might be free as a digital download, I'm probably going to charge a couple of dollars because of how much effort I'm putting into this.

On the plus side that means I'll probably be putting more effort into it! I'm aiming for 24 interior pages of stuff and hoping to release a digital version of it by Halloween 2024!

I'm trying to work on more prints and stickers for conventions as well and I never posted about my convention escapades here all too much but you can check out this instagram post for what I had up the last time I boothed!

That's kind of all for the stuff I'd like to get done within this year but other projects that I'd like to aim to get done by 2025 is a continuation of my Cute Thing zine that I'm aiming to collate by Valentines Day, hehe how romantic.

There's nothing terribly concrete for that at the moment but I do know I want it to have more pages than Cute Thing. It's called My Boy and yes it's named after another Car Seat Headrest song.

I've got a lot of irons in the fire and another iron is that I'm also planning a 4-panel comic series for my band characters that I've posted some pilots about before!

Pretty messy planning but most of my long form stuff looks like this.

A 4-panel comic series is just less intimidating than a fully coloured webcomic series (Happenstance) that I know will be finished decades later. I've also seen a lot of webcomic artists I've beloved just.. abandon their years long project and it's kind of scary to me that will definitely happen to me!!!

--

The long and short of it is that I've got a lot of projects and a majority of it is not making me any money. I'm extremely lucky to be surrounded by people that support my work but it gets hard to just do all of this by yourself with no guarantee that it'll go anywhere.

Patreon's a beast I've tried to tackle but it's kind of an ass of a website to use so I'll probably try to use ko-fi a bit more. I've kind of never really liked the subscription model and really do prefer to launch curated PDFs of my work every few months, but again I'm really just clawing at the dark and grasping at anything I can.

Let's wrap up this long post by mentioning that I might want to give streaming a shot! I used to stream a little when I was a teenager but I'd like to give it another go!

I don't think I'm going to have a dedicated persona or vtuber avatar but a small little png-tuber would be frankly hilarious. Maybe something casual to start of with, it gets pretty lonely spending everyday working on images alone.

--

Thank you for reading! It's an extremely long post to all but say that I'm scared but working on projects still! If you'd like to support me, here's my ko-fi page and while I'm working on getting more stuff on there here's my itchi.io & gumroad as well.

As I mentioned before I'm closing my commissions on the 6th of October to work on my Abacelsus zine so if you'd like to get a bug or any of my regular style commissions now's a good time to do so!

(Bugstyle | Regular Comms)

I'm hoping to make more update posts like these in the future and not psyche myself out every time because they're really good for me to collect my incredibly jumbled thoughts. Thanks again to everyone who's followed, supported or even just looked at my stuff it really means the world.

If you have any questions or just generally want to talk to me about my characters, my DMs and askbox is always open! Any professional enquires can be shot towards me email as well: eliotlime@gmail.com

XOXO, Stay weird!

-Eliot :)

[equallyshaw]

little lion | Luke hughes au! ↠ when luke and liona meet. - fic. ↠ au Masterlist!

warning: underage drinking. word count: 1.4k+

if her father knew whose highrise she was at, and what she was doing- he'd kill her. no, scratch that. he'd ship her to russia, have her grandmother lock her in the basement and never see the light of day ever again. to be frank, liona didn't even know how she ended up here to be quite honest. her and her group of friends since highschool had been invited to a party in newark at an off campus house and then the next thing she knew they were here, after getting a 'better invite'. her and her best friend rain, stood in the corner waiting for gavin and chris to come back with drinks for them. they saw them emerging from the kitchen, and liona sighed. "i cant believe chris scored an invite to a new jersey devils place!" rain whispered yelled and liona smirked. chris handed her a red solo cup, and gavin gave rain one. chris wrapped an arm around the girl's shoulder, and sipped some of his liquid.

gavin and rain began to talk about whatever was happening at law school, while chris and liona just listened. they had no knowledge or the logistics of their degrees, so they just took in all of it as well as the drama. the two ended up rambling on their own while chris and liona looked at one another, before laughing. "you going to see andrei soon?" chris questioned, and kailey shrugged. "i don't know, my dad wants me to come home to visit and offered the Carolina game but i don't know." she said finishing her cup. "im getting another one." she said raising it a bit, and chris nodded. "if you're not back in 5 minutes, im coming and finding you!" he announced and she nodded with a small smile. she weaved in and out of some people, finding her way to the kitchen. she set her sights on a seltzer that was in the open bowl of ice, and snatched it quickly. "is that the last cherry?" she heard to her right, and she looked through the other ones before turning to the person.

she turned to the right seeing a tall boy, brunette curly hair and hazel eyes. she swallowed before speaking, "uh there's no-no more." she stuttered pulling some hair behind her ear. he nodded, "can you hand me a random one then?" he questioned and she nodded enthusiastically and grabbed him a random one. "thanks-" he waited for her to fill in, "uh liona." she responded holding her hand out, he took it softly "luke." he responded, and they let go of eachother's hand. "do you know dawson?" he questioned and her eyebrows crinkling gave him her answer. "who?" she questioned and he chuckled softly. "my teammate, who are you here with?" he questioned. "you play hockey?" she asked softly and he nodded. oh fuck, she thought. "um im best friends with chris." she said and luke made a face of recognition. "i know who that is, he's pretty cool." he said and she smiled widely. "oh yeah definitely wouldn't have kept him around all these years if he wasn't." she tried to joke but it fell flat. she looked at the ground before both of them tried to speak at the same time, "do you wanna-?" and "im gonna go." the two of them blushed and chuckled softly. "would you wanna go somewhere and talk?" he questioned, and she looked back towards her friend group. "ummm.." she trailed off turning back to look at luke. "we don't have to, was just curious!" he said and she shook her head. "id like that, i just need to go tell my friends." she said pointing behind her. he nodded and followed her back into the living room. "hey guys im gonna go -" chris cut her off by greeting luke, and doing a bro hug with each other. gavin also bro hugged him, with rain and luke getting introduced to one another. "were gonna go talk for a bit, ill let you know when im ready to go?" kailey confirmed, and gavin pushed her playfully while chris just nodded. the two walked off towards the small movie room that dawson had.

_

next thing they knew, it was 2 in the morning and the two of them had been talking for a few hours at this point. then she dropped a bomb on him, "you're dad is the alex ovechkin?" he asked eyes wide and wonder lighting up his face. she nodded softly, "ye-yeah." she said shrugging while looking down at her converse. "oh well, that's really neat! you said your parents are not together right? was the schedule too much and stuff?" he asked and she shook her head, "no uh, once she found out she was pregnant with me..they had already broken up and he ended up fleeing back to europe before getting some sense knocked into him. but they used to fight like cats and dogs, some of my earliest memories typically ended up in a fight. so yeah, they couldn't get along longer than a few hours." she hummed, biting her lip nervously. he nodded, "im sorry kai- i mean liona." he stuttered and the way he said her middle name, was heaven. "y'know nobody has ever called me just kai before...but i liked it." she hummed while her cheeks became even rosier. "kai, huh?" he questioned with a glint in his eye, as he grinned. she nodded, "liona kai ovechkin...a mouthful." she hummed shrugging. "its perfect." he responded. "my dad though just says lion or little lion, because apparently im the forthcoming of him or i guess the second coming..." she trailed off with her eyebrows creasing in deep thought. luke found it all quite adorable.

"lion..lioness... definitely suits you." he mused and she snickered. "well if you'd like i can give you permission to call me kai." she teased and his head cocked to the side a tad bit. the two were sitting next to each other on the couch, knees only a mere inch apart. both of them looked over at one another, and luke was debating if he should do what he wanted to do. and that was kissing her. while liona was telling herself he did not like her, he was just being nice.

luke began to lean in and a his left hand quickly found her chin, pulling her softly closer as he stopped a few inches from it. his gaze had been focused on her pink lips, and now they were gazing in to her brown eyes. almost as if to ask if it was ok. she nodded softly once, and his lips were on hers. his right hand came up to her cheek, as she pulled him in a bit by the neck. but luke being the gentleman that he was (because queen ellen raised him right) he did not go any further. they pulled apart, chests heaving a bit as their foreheads rested against each other's. liona was about to lean in again but he pulled his face away by a few inches, and he could see how much that hurt the girl. she stood up, pulled down her shirt a bit by smoothing it and cleared her throat.

"kai-" he said but she put her hand up, not meeting his gaze yet. she shook her head, "its fine. i totally get it, i don't know what i was thinking there for a second." she paused ruffling up her hair a bit, and looked up at him. "its fine, im not sure any guys would want to be with me anyways. so its fine, luke." she rambled before spinning on her heel, and heading out to find her friends. the group had dissipated just a bit. chris was the first one to recognize her from the small group he was in, and quickly made his way over. once he reached her, he saw tear in her eyes. his face and tone in full protection mode, "what happened?" he asked checking her body for any brusies or cuts. she shook her head, "id just like to leave." she said as her voice cracked. he nodded profusely, wrapping an arm around her back and leading her out of the highrise.

not without luke seeing the whole scene play out, and his heart breaking just a bit as they left with his arm around her.

oh lukey... will be doing a follow up to this (:

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tags: @cuttergauthier