#i was going to sleep at sunrise every day

[yardsards]

i think the issue with having an extremely inconsistent sleep schedule is not that your overall daily schedule will be out of wack (i am quite fine with changing schedules) but rather that all hours of the day are Schrodinger's Bedtime. like, going to bed just feels like An Option at all times and this leads to a lot of laying in bed almost dozing but not really sleeping

[sleepy-stitches]

as much as im very much a late nights guy the early morning is something very special to me. i love to see the world as it wakes up for the day

[dragons-and-yellow-roses]

Why is pulling an all dayer harder than pulling an all nighter

[whytheylosttheirminds]

snooze - r.c.

(season 4 bf!rafe x gf!reader blurb, 4.1k words)

summary Your man works harder than anyone you know, and you couldn’t love him more for it, but some mornings you just want to hold on to him a little longer…

content fluff/smut, mutual mast., p in v, 18+ minors do not interact

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Rafe’s alarm rings through the large bedroom like a blaring siren, jerking you violently from the sweet sleep you were just wrapped in. He doesn’t hear it at first, still sound asleep next to you, snores rumbling through his bare chest.

You blink your eyes open, the room is still dark, though the first golden rays of the sunrise creep in through the small crack in the curtains. You twist your body towards Rafe, snuggling your head into his neck, an attempt to both shield your eyes from the sunlight and get his attention, desperate for him to silence the loud alarm.

After a few seconds, he still hasn’t heard it, so you reach up and gently tap his cheek.

“Baby,” you groan, cheek pressed against his shoulder. “Too loud.” 

Rafe takes a deep breath in, eyes still closed as he reaches his bedside table, tapping his phone screen clumsily until the sound subsides.

He settles back in, placing a quick kiss onto the top of your head as he pulls you into his side. You sigh happily, running your nails softly up and down his chest and stomach, drawing little hearts and stars on his skin. He shivers when you graze over the soft skin of his lower stomach, following his happy trail down to his waistband. You fully plan on dipping your hand below it, where he’s already twitching and firming up for you under his sweatpants, but you get distracted by the delicious deep V lines on either side of his waist. You dip your pointer finger into the valley of muscle and trace the shape down, switching to the other side and drawing back up.

He stirs when you angle your finger to scratch lightly with your manicured nail, lingering just above the band of his Calvins that peeks out from his sweats.

“That’s so nice, baby,” he mumbles in his deep, crackling morning voice, “I love these hands.”

Rafe laces his fingers in yours with one hand, his other arm sliding under your neck and wrapping around your shoulders. He pulls you close so he can drop a sloppy kiss on your temple.

You sigh and lift your intertwined hands to place a kiss on each of his knuckles.

“Maybe you should stay home,” you suggest between kisses. “Then you can enjoy these hands all day long.”

He smiles knowingly, still not opening his eyes. You play this game every morning, trying to find ways to convince him to play hooky from work, though they never succeed. He’s always showered and out the door by sunrise, leaving you with a cup of coffee on your nightstand and a quick kiss as you drift back to sleep.

“Sounds perfect, but I have an 8 a.m. with a potential investor,” he explains.

In the quiet, Rafe starts to drift off again. You continue to stroke his chest and think of all the many enticing reasons for him to stay, but before you can list them for him, his alarm blares from his phone again. 

You lean over him, reaching to the phone on his nightstand. He takes the opportunity to snake his hand around your waist and slide it under his big t-shirt you're wearing. His hands feel so nice on your lower back, you pause, almost forgetting what you were reaching for in the first place, until the alarm rings out again, making you both wince with its volume. You tap the screen desperately until it’s silenced.

“Just hitting snooze so we can have five more minutes,” you say, settling down over him and resting your cheek on his chest.

“Liar,” he says with a sleepy smirk. “You turned it off.”

You fake an offended gasp, “I can’t believe you’re accusing me of such deception, Rafe Cameron.”

“So when five minutes go by and the alarm doesn’t go off again, what are you gonna say then?”

“I was hoping you’d fall back to sleep by then,” you confess with a giggle, laying a soft kiss on his chest, right over his heart.

“I knew it.”

He sits up in bed, causing you to fall back onto the pillows, immediately missing his warmth. You paw at his arm as he reaches over to check the time on his phone.

“Nooo,” you whine. “Don’t go yet.”

He smiles down at you, leaning over to place loving kisses on the edge of your jaw and up your face, touching his lips to your temple one final time before standing from the bed.

Your vision is still fuzzy from sleep and the darkness of the room, but you follow the general shape of him as he walks to the wall of windows on the other side of the room. He’s shirtless, the lower half of his body covered in soft gray sweats. You squirm a little under the comforter as you take him in. You didn’t know it was possible to be this attracted to someone, but it’s like every day you’re with him, your body craves him more, and it makes it that much more painful when he leaves.

Rafe interrupts your reverie by lifting his arms and throwing the curtains wide open. You flinch at the bright sunlight that pours through the windows like it’s burning you.

“Too bright, Rafe!” You protest. 

He just turns with a smug smile, his tall silhouette casting a shadow over the bed, blocking you from the blinding sun.

“I’ll make you some coffee before I go,” he promises as he leaves you alone in the bedroom, pulling a pillow over your face to shield yourself from the daylight.

It’s silly to complain when his hard work is the whole reason you can lay in this comfortable bed so late into the morning. When he’s not with you, he’s at the office, earning you all this comfort, but it still seems unfair when you want him this badly.

You used to be an early riser, but the way he lays you down every night when he gets home, fucking you hard and slow until you fall asleep clinging to him, it’s made you a whole new person. You’d pay him twice his salary if you had it just to get him to stick around a little longer, make you feel that good again.

A devious idea comes to your brain, and you pull the covers from yourself quickly, making fast moves before he gets back.

When Rafe comes back into the room a few minutes later, he nearly spills your hot coffee all over himself at the sight that greets him.

The comforter is bundled at the end of the bed, nothing covering your body as you stretch out on the mattress. You’ve switched out his t-shirt and your baggy sweats for a silky pair of boy-short panties and a lacy bra. You're facing away from him, laying on your side, the curve of your hips and peekaboo view of your ass casting a scandalous shadow on the wall. The fabric of your panties is so flimsy, it climbs up the curve of your ass, revealing you to him as if they’re barely there at all.

“Nice try,” he shakes his head, though the small crack in his voice betrays his defiance. You know you’ve got him hard and frazzled.

“Hmmm?” You don’t turn to look at him, instead bending your knee and sliding one leg up higher to give him an even better angle of your ass. 

“It’s not gonna work…” he insists, setting your coffee down, fully intending to turn and make his way to the walk-in closet to get dressed, yet somehow finding himself completely immobile.

“What’s not going to work?” You echo, feigning cluelessness in a way you know is gonna drive him mad.

“I really do have a meeting,” he continues his one-sided argument, trying desperately to convince himself. “I can’t be late, it’s important.”

“Okay! Have a good day, baby,” you yawn, shifting on the sheets as if you’re just getting comfortable, hoping he doesn’t see the smile you’re hiding in your pillow, obsessed with the strain in his voice that reveals his resolve is cracking.

The mattress sinks slowly under his weight, and you can feel the heat of him before he even touches your skin. His hand slides up your leg, from your ankle all the way up to your thigh, where he pauses to squeeze your flesh. 

“You’re gonna be late,” you let your mouth twist into a cheeky smile. 

He huffs a defeated laugh, letting his forehead fall onto your shoulder in frustration, “you’re killing me.”

“I’m not doing anything!” You giggle, arching your back and giving him a better glimpse at the other side of you, your nipples already pebbling in anticipation, clearly visible through your see through bra.

Rafe responds by saying your name, so low and needy it’s almost inaudible. You twist your torso just enough to meet his eyes, blinking at him sweetly through your eyelashes.

“Yes?”

He doesn’t respond with words, just a piercing gaze. His blue eyes are blown wide with lust as he takes you in, dragging over your body helplessly, fighting an internal battle as he plots his next move. Filthy thoughts are etched on his face, you know him well enough by now to see the gears turn behind his eyes, imagining all the things he could do to you if he stayed.

“Can I at least have a kiss before you go?” You ask, hoping the taste of your lips will tip the scales in your favor.

He can’t deny you a kiss, he never does, so he leans in and meets your lips with a nod, his hand rising to softly cradle your jaw. You run your tongue so gently across his lower lip that he wonders if he imagined it. When you part your lips for him and release a small sigh, the game is over.

With another squeeze of your thigh, he pulls back from you just enough to reach his phone on the nightstand. You watch with a victorious grin as he types out a quick message, surely to his secretary, and tosses the phone somewhere on the bed. 

“Bought us an hour,” he tells you.

“Only an hour?” You pout.

“Don’t be greedy,” he teases you, shuffling behind you so he can spoon you, placing a dozen quick kisses up your arm, making you giggle in delight.

Rafe’s hand slides from your thigh to your waist, dipping to splay over your stomach so he can pull you flush against him. You sigh dreamily as he begins to suckle on your neck, leaving little pink marks everywhere his lips touch.

“Wasn’t that kind of an important meeting?” You ask, feeling a little guilty for potentially making him miss out on a good opportunity.

“Nothing’s more important than this,” he assures you.

You let out a little whimper at his sweet words, igniting a fire in him. His hand drifts up your stomach until his palm is settled over your breast, kneading gently. 

“Oh,” you gasp. “That feels good.” 

“Yeah?” He drawls with a crooked grin, pausing to drag the tip of his tongue over the shell of your ear, making you shiver. “Just needed a little attention today?”

“Mhm,” you nod. “Needed you.”

His hand leaves you for a minute to fiddle with the clasp of your bra. You lift your arms up so he can slide it off and toss it somewhere on the floor of the massive master suite.

The rough skin of his palm comes back to rest over your hard nipple, the sensation is so sweet that your whole body hums with pleasure. 

“God you’re so soft,” he breathes over the wet spot he’s just left on your skin, “love these tits so much.”

With that confession, he pinches your nipple between his thumb and pointer finger, the pain lasting only a second before he smoothes it over with the pad of his thumb.

“Rafe!” You squeak out at the sting.

He shushes you gently, lowering his mouth to pull your earlobe between his teeth, the pressure strong, but not strong enough to pull your mind from the way his hand is dropping lower on your torso towards your panties. A pool of silky arousal gathered between your legs, you rub your thighs together in search of friction as his hand continues to move maddeningly slow.

“Don’t worry baby,” he coos, “gonna take good care of you like I always do.”

Your fingernails dig into the sheets in preparation when he finally reaches the band of your panties, lifting them to slide his hand in.

“You always take such good care of me, Rafe,” you agree.

He places his other arm under your head for support, allowing you to look down at the outline of his big hand wriggling under the damp cloth of your panties. His fingers find your entrance easily, pausing outside to swirl in your wetness.

“Fuck, you’re perfect,” he praises. “Always so ready for me.”

After a few more swirls, he’s satisfied with the coating, dragging his fingers back up to your clit. He hits it right away, he could find it in a hurricane. He runs his fingers over you at the perfect angle, starting with delicate figure eights.

Your head falls forward in ecstasy, unable to form words. Rafe bends his arm at the elbow, laying his hand flat against your forehead to pull your head back into his chest, your neck arching with the stretch. The pink spots he’s left on your exposed throat have darkened nicely, giving him a chance to appreciate his handiwork. He reattaches his lips, desperate to claim you as many times as he can, hungry for you.

The sweetest, breathiest moans fall from your puffy lips, and he basks in them like the sunlight that’s bleeding through the curtains. He’s nibbling on your shoulder like it’s his breakfast as his fingers pick up speed on your clit. 

Between circles and flicks, he stops to tap quickly with the tip of his middle finger, the rhythmic pressure and release has the sensitive bud pulsing. You chase his fingers pathetically with the roll of your hips, needing more.  

As you writhe, his cloth covered cock slots between the valley of your ass, each wave of your hips grinding perfectly against his shaft. You shut your eyes tight, picturing his perfect length and the gorgeous noises he makes when he comes. You need to hear those sounds like you need air.

Your hand releases from the sheets, reaching behind you to rub the hard ridge of his dick over his sweatpants. Rafe clenches his jaw, a throaty groan vibrating through his chest and straight into your body. 

“This what you wanted, angel?” He asks, his tone dominant and desperate all at the same time. The perfect balance of ownership and a genuine urgency to please you.

“Just wanted you,” you confirm through labored pants, grinding yourself into his hand, “all I ever want is you.”

“Oh yeah? Show me.”

No further instruction needed, your hand finally dips below his waistband, immediately finding his pulsing cock. 

“Shi-ii-t,” he shudders as you wrap your fingers around him, stroking slowly and reveling in how hard you’ve made him.

You notice goosebumps rush up the arm that’s disappearing into your panties, you realize your hands must be cold. You know he’d never complain, but you don’t just want him to feel good, you want him to feel as amazing as he makes you feel.

You draw your hand back from his boxers, and he groans at your absence, nearly protesting until he sees what you’re doing. You dip your hand into your underwear, gently nudging his out of the way, and collect some of your wetness onto your own fingers. Your hand glistens in the morning sunlight when you pull it out, displaying it for him before returning your grip to his cock.

He’s speechless. Eyes rolling back at how fucking sexy that was, desperate to ground himself before he comes too quickly in your hand. He moves his palm down from your forehead to cup your throat, not too much pressure to hurt, but enough to remind you how strong he is. You whimper, swallowing hard under his broad palm.

“Jesus christ, baby,” he sputters, “you’re my fucking dream girl.” 

You fall in sync, Rafe rubbing tight, firm circles over your clit, while you slide your hand up and down his shaft, pausing at the tip with each stroke to swirl your thumb in the precum he’s leaking. His knuckles flex in response to each flick of your thumb, pads of his fingers holding and releasing your neck in steady pulses. 

You squeeze his cock as he squeezes your throat, so perfectly aligned in your drunken pleasure that you both chuckle at how unbelievable it feels. But if you’re laughing, then surely he’s not doing a good enough job.  

He draws your clit between his fingers, rolling over and over, not pinching too hard, but just hard enough to set every nerve ending in your body on fire. You draw your knees up, your hand slowing involuntarily on his cock as you feel the familiar coil tighten in your tummy, seconds from snapping.

“I can’t believe you’re real, you’re so perfect,” Rafe whispers into your shoulder, kissing you over and over.

“Gonna make me come talking like that, baby,” you warn him.

“You want that? You want me to make you come in my hand?”

“Not yet,” you choke out, so close that you’re already dreading coming down from your high. It’s too soon, it’s not enough. No amount of him will ever be enough, but you at least need him closer. “Want you inside, need you in me.”

“Anything. Anything you want,” he swears as he pulls his hand from your core to rip your panties down your legs. You pull them off over your feet and toss them away as he removes his pants and boxers behind you. 

The fabric finally out of the way, his dick spears into your back, somehow always so much bigger and more powerful than you remember. You pray he doesn’t make you wait any longer, wriggling back onto your side so your soaked pussy is perfectly exposed to him. 

In the soft morning light, he finally gets a good view of your slick folds, nearly busting all over your back at the sight. He’s filled this new condo with the most expensive art he could find, but nothing comes close to the masterpiece in front of him. To him, you’re fucking priceless.

He wastes no more time, tucking a hand under your knee to angle your leg up. You take his cue, understanding each other without words as always, and brace your foot flat against his calf, propping yourself open for him.

A combination of the angle and his picture perfect memory of your walls has his tip hitting your g-spot on the very first thrust. He stretches you so sweetly, the tight fit making your brain go foggy and your mouth fall open, gasping helplessly.

“Like this?” He asks, not taunting but not really asking either, already knowing the answer to “this how you want it?”

“Not quite,” you whisper. 

He freezes with confusion before you reach behind you to find the hand he has braced on your hip, pulling it up and placing it back around your neck.

“There,” you say, “now it’s perfect.”

“Holy shit,” Rafe stammers, hips jerking forward, slamming into you a little too hard, lost in his infatuation with you. 

At first he worries it’s too hard, but a dreamy moan rises from your throat and you encourage, “yes, yes, like that, please.”

Mouth agape in disbelief at his pure fucking luck in finding you, he obeys your plea, pulling back slow before thrusting in hard again. The hand that’s not on your throat pushes into the mattress beneath your head, lifting himself up for leverage. He continues to fuck into you hard, pausing after each stroke to hit as deep as he can possibly get. You’re a mess, crying out with each slap of his hips against your ass, blabbering incoherently as you clench around him.

“Ohhh my god you’re so tight,” he growls through gritted teeth. “‘I’m gonna come if you keep squeezing me like that. You gonna let me come inside?”

Your eyes fly open as an invisible light bulb goes off above your head, you twist to meet his eyes, his lids low and irises completely blown out with lust.

“If I do, will you stay home?” you proposition him.

He scoffs, shaking his head in pure amusement and adoration, tongue digging into the side of his cheek in the cocky way you love. From this angle, the sharp features of his perfect face hover just inches from yours. The sheer attraction you feel makes your walls flutter around his cock, a tease of his reward if he promises to stay.

Rafe screws his eyes shut, his head falling back as you pulse around him repeatedly.

“Fuck! Yes, I promise, I promise,” he cries out as he continues thrusting into you sloppily, “I’ll do anything. I’ll sell my house, I’ll change my fucking name. Just ask me and I’ll do it.”

His theatrics delight you, bubbly giggles rising from your stomach as he loses himself in you. You can’t remember ever loving anyone as much as you love him at this moment.

“Kiss me,” you whisper, completely enamored with the man inside you.

Without a thought, he slips the hand on your throat to the back of your neck, kneading your skin as he pulls your mouth to his. It’s not gentle, like his typical good morning kisses, it’s messy and wet and hard and completely mind numbing. You bite on his bottom lip, almost accidentally, losing your mind at the taste of him.

“B-baby,” he stutters, his hips doing the same, “can’t - fuck -  can’t wait any longer. Tell me where you want it.”

“Mmmph, inside, please! Please fill me up, Rafe.”

It’s all he needs to hear, he buries himself deeper than he’s ever been. 

“Come with me?” he pleads.

You’re so close, you can’t even find words, nodding rapidly. He hits your g-spot one final time and you slip off the edge of the earth into uncut ecstasy.

Your eyes roll back and your toes dig into his leg, bruising his calf. His tip hits your cervix hard, hot cum pooling deep in your core, spilling out of him for longer than you thought possible. His breath is ragged and his chest heaving as his body jerks around you.

Both trembling, his arm gives out and he slumps down, curled around you. Sweaty and satisfied, you catch your breath together, Rafe still buried deep. 

He plants wet kisses on the nape of your neck, brushing your hair out of the way and blowing gently to cool you down. You see only bright white behind your closed eyes, floating in a perfect pleasure you didn’t know was possible until you met this man.

After a few moments, or possibly hours, he starts to pull out. Your hips chase his defiantly, refusing to lose his warmth again.

“Nuh-uh,” you shake your head, reaching back to grab his hip and hold him in place. “You promised.”

“I also promised to change my name, you gonna make me do that, too?” He laughs.

“Maybe.”

“Oh really? What are you gonna call me?”

“I dunno,” you shrug. “How about daddy?”

Your teasing has the intended effect, Rafe twitching inside you, already hardening again. He knows you’re just playing with him, but his mind spirals out of control at the pet name. He’s so in love he thinks it might kill him.

Settling back into you, he reaches around the bed until his hand finds his discarded cell phone.

Your lips twist into a smirk as you hear him dial, still buried in your heat.

The dial tone rings a few times and he says, “yeah, gonna need you to clear my whole day. Something came up.”

He thanks the voice on the other line, hanging up and tossing his phone somewhere in the mountain of blankets on the floor.

“A whole day?” You ask, nestling back into his chest. “Aren’t you gonna lose the money from those investors?”

“Probably,” he shrugs, laying more slow kisses on your shoulder. “Worth every fucking cent.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

[shouyuus]

adding onto the vi sleeps shirtless req only now it's college roommatevi! who wakes up to you pounding at her door at fuck-crack of dawn (or midday, if she went out the night before) and who stumbles out of bed, still mostly asleep and wearing only a ratty pair of boxers, to shutyouup answer

(you weren't made for blood pressures this high, and it's only like 8 AM)

xx vi sleeps shirtless truther

18+, no sex, just a nip-mention

JUST. college roommate!vi answering the door, squinty-eyed, her hair an absolute menace, sticking up in every direction, you standing there, wanting to be pissed at her bc its like... the 5th time she's used your stainless steel pot without cleaning it correctly and just leaving it in the sink but -- holy shit -- she's in a pair of old, bright red, calvin klein boxer briefs and nothing else, grumbling at you, the sunrise peaking over her shoulder, casting her in this golden, ethereal glow like --

"what, cupcake?" and her voice is gravely with sleep but you really can't focus on anything else bc... did you even know her nipples were pieced? you might've had an inkling bc she has some strange aversion to ever wearing proper bras so you've kinda maybe noticed the shape of them through all her tanktops and band tee's but -- now they're just right there --

"uh -- uhm --" you stutter, your brain short-circuiting way harder than you'd imagined, the dirty pot still in your hand, though it's held slack at your side bc really -- what the fuck are you supposed to say to this?

vi quirks an eyebrow, clearly confused and more than a little annoyed. she glances down at her chest, rolling her eyes. on any other day, she might've teased you, but she'd had a really late night last night and its one of the few days she doesn't have morning practice so she really doesn't appreciate you cutting into her sleep.

"c'mon princess, it's not like you haven't got a pair yourself," she says, shifting her weight from one leg to another, making her tits bounce slightly. you jerk your eyes away, cheeks going so hot you think you might get 3rd degree burns.

"just --" you cast your eyes up towards... anywhere but vi's tits, "the -- do you --" you sputter, grasping for a coherent sentence. but for some stupid reason, the only thing you can come up with is "i was... gonna make breakfast. d-did you want anything?"

vi stares, half-incredulous, half-confused.

"breakfast?" she glances at the large alarm clock sitting atop her half-opened drawers. it blinks a steady 7:48AM at her in dull red LED lights.

"nevermind -- i -- it was stupid. sorry for waking you --" you turn on your heels, feeling the room closing in around you, your fingers shaking around the pot handle.

"jesus, princess -- unless you're offering up yourself on a silver platter, don't ever wake me up at 7am again for fuckin' breakfast --"

vi's door clicks closed but you're left peering over your shoulder, eyes wide as dinner plates. because did she say what you think she did?

after a few solid seconds on blinking at her closed door, you scurry away to the kitchen to soak the stainless steel with bar keeper's friend, frowning down at the foamy mess in the kitchen sink, doing everything you can not to think about what it might look like if you did offer yourself to vi for breakfast.

you sigh, blowing a strand of hair from your face, frowning down at the stainless steel pot.

maybe next time.

[logaenhowlett]

MY BEATIN’ HEART BELONGS TO YOU - L.H.

Summary: Logan believed he was sentenced to a life of solitude until he found you - an unexpected dawn promising the sunrise of a love he always deemed impossible. But then again, destiny never was merciful to fools like him.

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Female Reader

Warnings: Soulmate AU, All aboard the Fluff Train with scheduled stops at Angst Station, Established relationship, Hurt/Comfort, How I Met Your Mother reference (iykyk), Reader can manipulate electricity

A/N: 5.9k - strap in, gang. Would you believe me if I said all this was inspired by a debate I had with a friend about the implications of 'I want you' vs 'I need you'. The mind works in silly, little ways sometimes. Title creds to Green Day. Enjoy, you lovely people!

MASTERLIST

Gone were the days when nightmares would rouse him from the sanctuary of sleep. Logan couldn't remember the last time he'd awoken in a cold sweat, sheets shredded from fighting invisible monsters, alarm clock glaring an angry red amongst the darkness. No, all that disappeared once you'd made a home within his arms.

It had been about three months, verging on four if anyone was keeping count - and he, most definitely, was - since you'd swept him away in a tide of fondness and pure affection. The shadow of a man who once roamed the mansion now nurtured a newfound lightness in his heart. Logan wasn't perfect, far from it, chosen paths that only led to a labyrinth of despair, but he was right about one thing: you.

And that verdict especially rings true every morning. The tangle of limbs, the soft ebb and flow of sleepy murmurs, the stray kisses grazing warm skin, he wonders how he'd survived so long deprived of such tender pleasures. He's never going back, that much he knows.

His lips trace a lazy line along your neck, lingering a second longer beneath your jaw. There's a chuckle aching to break through at the thought of your sleep-induced irritation - it’s too early, you'd whine each time. And each time, his half-hearted apologies would be long-forgotten as you meet his gaze, a tempest of desire swirling within hazel.

It's amidst the following moments of peace when he's most thankful for the thick walls surrounding the room. The aftermath of your intimate exchanges always leaves him mesmerised, heart racing at the reminder of your touch. His mutation didn't allow for the full effects of alcohol to poison his inhibitions, yet as your smile gleams at him, Logan's sure he's never been more drunk.

"Where're you goin'?"

He's shaken from his musings as you roll away from his embrace, huffing in disbelief when you don't seem to stop. But, the string of complaints dies on his tongue as he watches you slip on the shirt he'd discarded the night before, turning around amused, "What? You wanna stay here all day?"

"Got nowhere to be."

"Correction - you have nowhere to be. I, on the other hand, need to grade those assignments or Jean'll actually explode my brain this time."

Logan hmphs. He'd been looking forward to lounging around this weekend, positively thrilled at the idea of letting the hours simply trickle away in the quiet comfort of your company. However, he's also one too familiar with Jean's intolerance for slacking off and lessons were definitely learned.

"Let her try," he counters meekly.

As you circle the bed to part ways with a chaste kiss, Logan seizes the opportunity to pull you down, pinning you beneath him in one effortless move. His lips capture yours with a deliberate, sensual slowness - the urgency from earlier now completely absent. The feeble protests vanish from your mind as he breaks away, a twinkle of mischief playing on his smile.

His fingers trace the curve of your wrist, hovering over the faint crescent moon inked in black. It was the mark of your soulmate. Of him, he hopes. You'd shown him quite early into the relationship, spending many a night whispering theories and speculations about its meaning. At first, he expressed only timid fascination, a question here and there spurred by gentle curiosity while you rambled on and on. But as his heart began to tether itself to yours, the mark took on a new significance. Every time his gaze fell upon it, his thoughts would spiral from longing and self-doubt, wondering if he was the one destined to share a lifetime with you.

Over the decades he'd been alive, Logan had searched every crevice of his body for his own. In his youth, it was a fleeting thought, brushed aside by the assumption that his healing factor wouldn't allow for these scars. Yet as time passed, he was terrified of waking up to a branded promise - a cruel trick that condemned his soulmate to a life with him. After he met you, those fears were soon eclipsed by a yearning, a desperate hope for a sign of his worthiness. Every day, he lingered by the mirror, gaze sweeping across his reflection, praying for an identical crescent moon to mark his skin.

"Logan." Your laugh draws his attention, "I'm never leaving the bed at this rate."

"Darlin', that's the general idea."

He relents anyway, falling onto his back with a soft grunt as you stand up. The dopey grin you're biting has him narrowing his eyes in suspicion, wondering what goddamn joke popped into your mind. Before he can question it, you straighten your posture and salute, "General Idea."

A look of confusion contorts his features, though he doesn't get anything besides a mumbled response as you leave the room, "Never mind, it's from a show."

A mountain of papers sits perched on your desk illuminated by the warm glow of the lamp, the scratching of your pen punctuating the silence of the classroom as you continue grading your students' assignments. It had been a couple of hours since you left Logan amongst the nest of blankets. And that image only seemed more enticing with each word you read.

"Missed ya."

Speak of the devil.

Except this devil was an angel - you could almost see a halo shimmering around his figure, backlit by the sunlight flooding the hallway. Every time you think you've captured the essence of his allure, he defies your expectations, often with just a simple gesture. And despite the countless compliments and declarations of adoration, Logan still seemed surprised by flattery, his lips always seeking yours to hide the blush creeping up his cheeks.

"I just saw you like - "

"In the shower," he interrupts, smirk widening as he approaches. He leans against the chair, nose brushing against your exposed shoulder.

Something in your brain short-circuits at his words and the casual display of affection. You stammer a little, "You… didn't tell me."

"Oh, that would've worked hm?" Logan spins the chair around, chuckling as he catches your flustered expression, "'M sorry, sweetheart... guess I gotta make it up to ya."

You never thought Logan was a romantic. Yet, time and time again you discover the depths of his boundless capacity for love and companionship. It wasn't just the whispered promises and passionate revelations, but the quiet moments, the stolen glances, the tender touches that speak volumes. Neither of you had uttered those three words yet, though they hang heavy in the air, unspoken but deeply felt.

His hand winds up beneath your shirt, bunching the fabric near your waist as he pulls you closer. Heat, courtesy of the shower, wafts off his skin, a tantalizing sensation that makes your breath hitch. His tongue toys with your lower lip, teasing just enough that you find yourself chasing after him, desperate for more. The laugh he produces, though smug, is also contagious, a sound that never fails to swallow your heart.

Again and again, he'd professed his desire to unravel you by his sheer touch, how your craving for him sets his insides ablaze. And judging by the way your eyes darken, mouth parting almost reflexively, he's got you dancing to his tune like a puppet on a string - and you wouldn't have it any other way.

But he backs off all of a sudden.

A crescendo of footsteps echoes down the hallway and the moment is shattered. Three of your students barge in, out of breath and frazzled as they clutch their assignments. A frown creases Logan's brow, annoyance he's certainly putting no effort to hide has them second-guessing their intrusion until you beckon them in with a warm smile. With a hasty apology, they fumble with their papers, eyes darting between the two of you before rushing out, the door swinging shut.

"We gotta find a place," he grumbles, dipping forward into your neck.

"We already live together."

A sharp click of his tongue, a playful nip to your shoulder, seals his disapproval, "Not enough. Lil' brats interrupt every damn time."

He wasn't wrong in the slightest. The kids did seem to have an uncanny ability to sense the most inopportune times to interfere. Sometimes you joked that it was one of their mutant powers and Logan, with an amused roll of his eyes, would just scoff and agree. You can't help but chuckle, "'Least it wasn't Scott... I think we traumatised him last week."

It was indeed last week when the two of you retreated to the Danger Room. Of course, with the sole and noble intention of honing your defensive tactics. However, the moment you strategically knocked him off his feet, the situation had taken a decidedly different turn. Pinned beneath you, Logan held a look of astonishment that soon morphed into something much more eager. He'd uttered all of two words before your lips slammed against his and whatever hopes you had for training immediately became the least of your worries. That was until somebody walked in.

He huffs a laugh, the memory filling him with satisfaction, "Should've used his fuckin' brain with those sounds you were makin'."

"Oh god, poor Scott," you mumble, embarrassed by the thought.

"Quit sayin' his name." The growl that curls his words leaves goosebumps in its wake. Logan grips your chin, tilting your head back slightly, a slow grin unfurling as his gaze bores into yours.

"I said it twice!" you protest, but it's all in vain. His thumb drags across your lip, silencing your words.

"That's two more than I care for."

It's dark outside by the time he's done with you.

Sugar melts on his tongue, the velvety texture of chocolate dancing across his palate. Logan takes a rather indulgent sip, the steaming liquid warming his throat. Nestled on opposite sides of the window seat, the two of you share a quiet moment accompanied by nothing but pale moonlight. A comforting weight settles on your feet, his hand kneading the stress away with care. Outside, a delicate snowfall paints the mansion's grounds, grass slowly fading away, droplets racing down the windowpane.

Dinner had wound down hours ago. The kids gathered around the living room after, wide-eyed with wonder as the first snow of the season began. Charles eventually ushered them off to bed, Logan had planned to follow suit until your gentle tug derailed his desire to sleep altogether. And as always, there's no world where he'd deny you anything.

He sees you stifle a giggle every now and then, your eyes twinkling with amusement each time he lifts his mug. It was nothing fancy - mostly white, adorned with a line of stockings and, cheekily, the words "Well hung".

It was a present from you a few Christmases ago. He remembers you watching him warily unwrap the box, laughing out of giddiness as he blushed when the implication dawned on him. It's just a silly gift, you'd reassured, not pressuring him to even keep it. Yet, since then, it remained a permanent fixture on his bedside table. During restless nights, he'd reach for the familiar mug, seeking solace in the kitchen to drink away the looming shadows of insomnia.

It wasn't until your first night together that you saw it again after all those years, carefully placed and by far, the cleanest thing on his table. Logan ducked his head sheepishly before confessing just how much he treasured the sentiment. In a lifetime of solitude, someone had spared a second to think about him, even for a simple gag gift. And that thought warmed his heart a little on especially hard days.

"You're a child," he chides as you smile, rolling his eyes.

You scoff under your breath, "Oh, just cause you're a hundred years old."

"Hundred and sixty," he corrects, grabbing your foot mid-air before you can nudge his thigh. There's a brief pause as he places the mug aside, a wicked grin splitting his lips. Laughter fills the air as you squirm and wriggle away, quickly understanding the look behind his eyes. But Logan moves faster. His hands trail their way to your sides, drawing squeals of protest as he tickles you.

Seconds later, he backs off, satisfied by your reaction. Shifting his weight, he settles on top of you with a gentle press. As he lays against your chest, humming softly in contentment, the soothing caress of your fingers through his hair lulls him into a state of relaxation. The world simply fades away, replaced by the warmth of your embrace and the quiet flush of domestic bliss. A profound swell of gratitude spreads within his heart. It's during intimate moments like these that he feels especially lucky. A far cry from the man brought into this mansion years ago, times you also reflect on amidst late-night conversations.

The memories remain as vivid as yesterday.

It was late in the afternoon, the setting sun casting long silhouettes across the classroom. You stood by the blackboard, explaining the laws of electromagnetism while scribbling equations in chalk. For months, you'd taken over Charles' role as the physics professor, and what began as a favour soon grew into a passion. However, some days were particularly slow. A palpable sense of boredom washed over your students as their eyes drifted towards the clock in anticipation. Just as you were about to begrudgingly dismiss them, the door flew open - a dishevelled figure clad in gray burst in, wildly panting in fear and confusion.

This must be Logan, you concluded, recalling the latest mission debrief from Scott and Storm. They'd rescued two mutants in Canada, one of whom was particularly banged up and recovering in the med bay. Well, until now. Since their arrival, Charles had emphasised the erratic nature of Logan's mind, even unconscious, a part of him stayed unyielding against the telepath's powers. But as you locked eyes with him, you saw none of that. Instead, he seemed lost and terrified, glancing around the room from one corner to the next as if someone was speaking. Before you could offer a word of reassurance, he was gone, disappearing into the hallway like a fleeting shadow.

Over the following months, he slowly began to emerge from his shell. At first, it was just plain nods of acknowledgement as you passed each other in the mansion. Then, a word here and there, clipped phrases of advice and caution during particularly dangerous missions. Gradually, his presence became more pronounced. Sometimes, after intense training sessions, he'd slip into the back of your classroom, intently listening to your lectures on concepts you presumed were entirely foreign to him.

Except they weren't. It was only later that you discovered his secret: the countless hours spent poring over textbooks he'd discreetly stolen from Charles' bookshelf. The realisation filled your heart with a warm sense of affection. His unspoken interest, the hidden depths, it was all so endearing. Thereafter, Logan consumed your thoughts. And it was during one of those sleepless nights that you found the courage to join him in the kitchen, wordlessly focusing on your own books at either end of the table. Since then, a shared understanding passed between you, a bond forged from mutual appreciation and a hint of something more.

The first time he cracked a smile left you breathless. Jean was furious at Scott, her anger clear as day as she stormed away. And Scott, ever so helpless, turned to anyone for guidance, retracing every misstep, every misplaced word. Logan, watching the scene unfold, sneered to himself, enjoying the man cluelessly suffering. You exchanged a knowing look, a silent agreement on the absurdity of the situation. As you excused yourself, a fit of giggles threatening to overtake you, Logan followed close behind, unable to suppress his own laughter.

From that moment on, things changed. You found yourselves seeking each other, conversations flowed effortlessly, at times even seasoned with playful banter. And as Logan became a steady figure in your life, a strange ache settled in your heart. You were falling for him. Yet, his emotions remained a mystery, a puzzle you were desperate to solve.

One year became another, and another and another. And as your feelings for him increased, hesitation crept in rather unwillingly. You pushed everything away, burying them six feet under, afraid of rejection or something worse. But Logan, with his uncanny perceptiveness, sensed the shift in your behaviour. And one day, in a moment of raw honesty, he confronted you. A heated argument ensued, emotions spilling over, words cutting deep. Then, just as suddenly, the tension dissipated. His lips were on yours, conveying every bit of the love he carried in ways words could never bring justice to.

That was a couple of months ago. Everything was perfect and you'd never felt more complete until you noticed the brief flashes of insecurity whenever he saw the mark on your wrist. You knew he didn't have one. In the beginning, it became a sensitive topic, you started wearing a watch or longer sleeves to stop reminding him. But eventually, his unease was too much to ignore.

And so, you bit the bullet.

The conversation was fraught with discomfort, but as you spoke, his expression softened, a slight weight lifting off his shoulders. He shamefully expressed his worries, the fear of not being enough - not being the one for you. It was a small step, but one that brought you closer than ever before.

Logan couldn't have been more grateful.

"Perhaps the two of you should, what do the kids call it, get a room?"

Charles' voice suddenly cuts across the silence. All eyes, including Logan's and yours, snap up from the blueprints scattered on the table. Scott blinks in confusion, meanwhile Jean, holding back a knowing smirk, can barely contain herself.

"I've had my fair share of lewd daydreams in my youth, but that was quite disturbing," he continues, tone laced with disapproval.

Colour drains from your face. Had your thoughts really been that obvious? Sure, you couldn't stop admiring how the tight leather suit molded to Logan's physique - incredibly distracting, to say the least. But you didn't realise you were projecting your attraction so loudly, especially in a room with two telepaths.

"Sorry, Professor." It seems useless to apologise at this point, but he responds with a curt nod directed at Logan. Turning your attention to the blueprints, you feel a familiar weight against your back. Logan, the sly bastard, leans over your shoulder with feigned nonchalance. And it takes every ounce of your willpower to focus on the serious discussion instead.

A recon mission.

Some old abandoned Hydra facility used for mutant experimentation in the 90s, the remnants of failed trials left to rot and forgotten. Charles had caught wind of it through Cerebro, suspecting that there may be valuable information hidden within its walls, secrets that should very well stay away from the wrong hands.

"What's in there?" Scott asks, tensing a little.

Charles pauses, a scowl twisting his expression, "That is a private matter."

"Private Matter," you mumble without thinking, instinctively reaching for a salute before Logan catches your wrist, halting the motion. He shoots a look, a silent reprimand that very clearly implies "Not now". Fortunately, no one else witnesses your mistimed quip, too engaged in drafting a safe plan for extraction.

The mission seems fairly straightforward, a simple infiltration like many you've done before. Nevertheless, Charles concludes with a stern warning to heed caution, "Now, good luck to all of you." As you filter out the room, he casts a pointed glare, "And Logan, please refrain from defiling my desk at any point in the future."

Shock etches across your face, mouth slightly agape. Once you're out of earshot, you shove Logan’s arm in embarrassment, "It wasn't me then." You breathe in relief only to be reminded of the thoughts he seemed to be entertaining earlier. What surprises you is the fact that you're more intrigued than deterred by the idea.

"My bad, sweetheart. Couldn't help myself," he laughs, dipping in close to whisper, "Suit's makin' it real hard to think straight." And with that, he's off, jogging ahead to Scott and Jean already waiting in the hangar.

Once you're airborne, the atmosphere shifts. Jean pilots the jet, her hands steady on the controls, eyes scanning the horizon. The Hydra facility looms in the distance, a dark and ominous presence in the middle of nowhere. As you approach your destination, a sense of apprehension lingers among the four of you. Scott recounts the plan, outlining the most efficient entry and exit points, his voice low and deliberate, "Logan and I will start from top-down and you two from the opposite."

As you leave the jet, a hand slips into your own, stilling you in place. Logan tugs you into his arms, there's a faint smile playing on his lips, his eyes, however, convey something along the lines of "Be careful, please". You squeeze his hand reassuringly, pressing a quick kiss before breaking away. With a reluctant sigh, he catches up with Scott, splitting off from you and Jean.

Inside, the air is thick with the scent of decay and neglect. Everything is left exactly as it was, except there are signs of a violent struggle - machines overturned, wires strewn across the floor, glass shards crunching under your boots. It's a scene of chaos and destruction. In the center lies an operating table, its restraints snapped in half, broken syringes and discarded medical equipment scattered around.

Electricity crackles beneath your fingertips. Though your powers aren't advanced, Charles has been a patient mentor, overseeing your progress since the day he found you. However, as you keep surveying the area, you notice an odd sensation, a subtle resistance to your abilities. A similar unease grips Jean too, her gaze meeting yours, a shared look of concern exchanged as you continue your search.

A distorted voice breaks through the comms, "Upper level's clear. No sign of anything." It's Scott, barely recognisable over the static.

"Copy. Still sweeping the lower level," you respond, but it's garbled by the interference.

"Stay on alert," Jean warns, straining her telekinetic energy against the strange force permeating the facility. "Defence systems could still be active."

You venture deeper into the hallway, greeted by an eerie silence broken only by the echo of your own footsteps. A series of cells line the corridor, thick metal barricades, scarred and rusted, stand as a testament to the suffering endured by those held captive years before. Peering through the tiny barred windows, you see sterile, empty rooms, not a single bed or mattress to be found - the cold, hard concrete floor offering no comfort.

"Fuckin' hell," you murmur, chills running down your spine. Jean hums quietly in agreement, looking around in horror. The electricity you can usually detect in the background dwindles to a weak buzz. You descend a narrow staircase, the air growing heavier by the second. At the end of the hallway is another metal hatch, this time with a faded Hydra symbol etched onto its surface. With a concentrated effort, Jean manipulates the lock, the door groaning open with a distinct beep.

It's beyond dimly lit - a dark, cavernous space. You focus your powers, fighting against the invisible pressure dampening your strength, current coursing through your veins. With a snap of your wrist, the room erupts in light, fluorescent bulbs flickering awake. A row of computers surrounded by a bundle of wires and archaic machinery stretch towards the ceiling.

"Must be the control room," Jean reaches out to flip a switch, but as her fingers brush the old metal, energy jolts through your body - a warning that something is amiss.

"No - wait!" you shout, but it's too late. The metal door slams shut with a deafening clang. An agonising vibration rattles through the room, a shockwave that reverberates through your body. The two of you sink to the floor, clutching your ears as a rush of debilitating pain burns every nerve ending in your body. And you're left paralysed for what feels like an eternity.

Logan clicks his tongue as static continues pouring through the comms, he catches the tail-end of your broken reply - something something lower level - a pit of dread forming in his stomach, "Place feels off."

"You're right, I can't get a read on anything," Scott mutters, the red hue of his glasses flashing in the darkness.

Logan's eyes dart around the space, landing on a series of grotesque instruments undoubtedly used for torture. A wave of nausea washes over him, flashbacks of his own past spring forward at the sight, reminders of the days when he too was a mere subject in someone else's twisted experiments. Suddenly, the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. An imperceptible vibration ripples beneath his feet, "The fuck was that?"

Scott immediately tries the comms again, "Jean? Wha - ", but it goes completely dead.

Logan's already barrelling through the corridors, his instincts taking over without a conscious thought. He calls for you again and again, reckless abandon fueling his every move. Screw the mission, all he wants is for you to be safe. His heart leaps into his throat as static hisses through the comms, Jean's voice muffled through the noise, "We've got... a major problem."

One second passes.

Two.

Three.

"C'mon, darlin'." The silence drags on, panic begins to seize his mind, sweat beading on his forehead. He needs to find you, now. The faint vibrations gradually become intense as he races down the staircase, "Major problem? C'mon, say your stupid joke, sweetheart. Please. Anything." His pleas, wracked with desperation, fall on deaf ears. Fear gnaws at him. He’s itching to hear your voice, even for that little running gag he doesn’t fully understand. Just any goddamn sign that you're still alive.

His senses direct him towards the metal hatch. Lunging forward, his fist connects with the barrier, claws extending at any attempt to tear through the door. Yet it holds firm, its surface barely dented or scratched by his force. Frantic, Logan rams his claws into the small security panel on the side, trying to short-circuit the lock. But the moment it's breached, a chain reaction is triggered, explosives hidden within the walls detonate with a tremendous roar. A torrent of debris and radiation thrusts him backwards, knocking him hard against the concrete.

The world around him seemingly implodes into a bedlam of sound and light, white flashes obscuring his vision. Pain, a searing, all-consuming pain diffuses through every inch of his body. His consciousness wanes, slipping away from his grasp. In the fading moments of awareness, he hears a distant crackle of electricity.

Then, nothing.

The memory of the chaos, the blinding light, the aftermath of the explosion, replay over and over. And then, there was Logan, his body limp and unresponsive, a sight that haunts your every waking moment. You remember the desperate scramble to escape the facility, the weight of his unconscious form in all your arms, the tense journey back to the mansion, Charles and Jean ushering you out of the med bay - their focus solely on stabilising him.

The night stretches on, a relentless march of time that seems to punctuate your helplessness as you pace back and forth. The lack of response from anyone doesn't quell the whirlwind of anxieties in the slightest. Every minute sound, every faint whisper, sends your heart racing. But when they finally emerge hours later, faces etched with exhaustion and relief, you can finally breathe.

For days, you sit by Logan's bedside, hands intertwined with his. The monotonous rhythm signalling his vitals is the only thing grounding you to reality. Though he remains unconscious, Jean had offered words of comfort, pointing to subtle improvements in his healing with her scans. Eventually, warmth returns to his body. His breathing, once laboured, is now full and steady. Leaning forward, you press a gentle kiss to his forehead and hope ignites within you again, just enough to draw a small, weary smile.

But then, you see it.

Glaring at you, painfully so, is a little mark on the back of his shoulder. Except, it isn't the same crescent moon that adorns your wrist. No.

Your heart sinks, breath catching in your throat, paralysis sets in once again. A single, shattering revelation echoes in your mind: Logan is not your soulmate.

He stirs awake, eyelids fluttering open. Everything slowly returns to his senses as the haze of confusion begins to clear. The first thing he notices is the familiar scent of you lingering on his skin, in the air, on the chair pulled by his side. As his vision unblurs, the blue walls of the med bay coming into view, a flood of concern smacks him in the face. Where are you? What happened? He tries to sit up, his body protesting with every movement.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you."

The mechanical hum of a wheelchair grows louder as it approaches. Charles, brimming with sympathy, rolls closer.

Logan groans, his muscles throbbing like never before, "What the hell happened? Is she - "

"She's alright, as are Scott and Jean," he interjects, though a shadow of pity clouds his expression. The unspoken weight behind his words triggers alarms in Logan's head, but before he can question him, a sharp burn shoots up his back. He winces, reaching for the source of the stinging. Beneath his fingertips, a strange, rough texture grates against his skin. He angles back to inspect it, blood running cold.

"It surfaced a week ago," Charles says grimly, "We suspect the radiation from the explosion temporarily impacted your healing, hence, the mark."

Logan can't think straight, a maelstrom of emotions engulfs every single fiber of his being - disbelief, agony and rage. How could this be real? He'd spent night after night, praying for some sort of sign, a reason for his existence. And when he found that in you, it felt like everything finally aligned. But now, destiny had struck him down with a ruthless blow, a cosmic twist of fate far worse than death.

Seven days.

That's how long it's been since you last saw him. The weight of the world bore down on you, every breath a struggle. Hours bled into one another as you stayed locked in your room, sobbing uncontrollably, your heart fracturing with each passing moment. Jean's persistent knocking eventually broke through your despair, her calm voice soothing your frayed mental state.

It took all of her gentle persuasion for you to finally eat something, to force you out of the anguish that consumed you. The news that Logan was awake and begging to see you almost crumbled the impenetrable walls you'd built up. But the thought of facing him, of confronting the fragile pieces of your harsh reality, filled you with dread.

And so, you avoided him. Retreating into yourself, a ghost of your own life, you clung to the illusion of distance. Maybe it'll somehow ease the pain, the heartbreak. You couldn't even bear to look at your own wrist, the mark - a cruel reminder of a love that was and a future that can never be. Every second of every day, mocking whispers floated around your mind, "You don't deserve him. You never did."

The moment Logan fully recovers, he immediately rushes through the mansion. Anticipation swells in his chest, there's nothing he wants more than your touch, your laughter - just you. He reaches your room, sensing the warmth from within. Hand hovering in the air, he takes a deep breath before knocking.

"Sweetheart?"

There's no response. He drops his head against the door, breathing ragged. Tears sting his eyes, threatening to spill over, the oxygen in his lungs thinning as he tries to speak, "Please. I know you're in there. Talk to me." The silence, the emptiness, it all becomes too much. He's losing you, and he can't do anything to stop it. "I know you're upset. But, please, just let me in."

Your voice comes muffled, charged with grief and sorrow, "That mark means there's someone out there for you - your real soulmate. Someone who isn't me." The words are piercing, he longs to pull you into his arms, to comfort you, to reassure you. "I am not meant for you, Logan," you choke out.

"Fuck that," he spits back. He can't accept this, that you're conceding to some inexplicable truth, "'M not givin' you up cause of some shit on my body. I choose you. And I will choose you. Every single time." It's all strangled, raw with emotion, cheeks stained with a wetness. He's wound up, a caged animal clawing at the bars. He'll fight for you, even if all the cards are against him, "Darlin', I don't care if there's someone else - they're not you. You're perfect to me. For me. The universe can go fuck itself cause I love you."

Logan goes still. He's never expressed that to you, not in this way, not with such soul-baring honesty. But, nothing has ever been more true, "I love you."

Heavy hangs the air. Then, a soft padding of footsteps, the door clicks open. Before he can react, your hands cup his face, drawing him down to your level, lips meeting in a passionate caress. Logan cradles the back of your head, deepening the kiss. The space between you, both physically and emotionally, fades away. This is all that matters, for now and forever.

His arms tighten as you pull back and tuck into the crook of his neck. The weight of your exhaustion is obvious with the shuddering sigh you let out, his heart aching for you. As you whisper apologies, he trails kisses down your face. "No, no, don't be sorry, darlin'," he says, all soft and gentle. Neither of you move, surrendering to each other, the moment suspended in time. Slowly, your trembling subsides and he smiles, the lines of misery now dimming. With delicate fingers, he brushes your tears away.

"I have a major headache," you murmur, eyes falling shut.

He huffs a laugh, saluting you with a playful grin, "Major Headache." The look of astonishment across your face brings him so much joy. "I asked Kitty, told me to watch the damn show." And Logan did watch the show - all for you - to understand the little references you kept making here and there.

"You know how to use the Internet?" you ask, incredulously.

"Don't push it, sweetheart." There's no malice behind his tone whatsoever. With a smirk, he leans forward, scooping you up in his arms and carries you to the bed. It's a familiar motion, a routine he's done hundreds of times before. But now, it's different, one that’s even more precious.

"Logan?"

"Hm?"

"I love you too."

He knows. He knows because it's written all over you. Every word, every breath, every touch - a testament to your love for him. A love so quiet and profound, a love that has weathered storms, a love that will last until the end of time. And he's eternally grateful for it. For you.

[iid-smile]

sunrise and sunset , nanami kento

x fem!clingy!reader ! nanami calls the reader "love" and "darling". the reader cuddles with nanami!!! the reader also loses sleep because of his love because thats cute.

author's note: nanami is so yellow but there's no option for it so he has to be orange </3 tell me why i was actually swooning while i was thinking about these scenarios in my head? especially the second one???? i think everybody agrees that nanami is a listener 100%

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sunrise.

nanami always wakes up before you. he used to get up as soon as his eyes opened, but nowadays, he has a little something holding him down.

it seems like you never fall asleep on your side. that's partly his fault, since he's always beckoning you to come closer to him. but even then, in the morning, he feels himself teetering off the edge of the bed, with two arms wrapped around his neck, and his now asleep arm still wrapped around your waist. slightly dangerous for him, but as long as you feel comfortable, then nothing else matters. seeing your pretty face first thing every day was a blessing.

"kento..." there it is. your tiny mumbles of you waking up.

nanami's lips immediately curl upwards at the sound of your voice. as gently as he can, he sits up more against the headboard, keeping your head laid on his chest. "i hear you." he responds.

the bedroom is quiet and tranquil. he specifically bought black out curtains for your sake, but considering the price, they really weren't doing the best job. mornings in summer were relentless, taking into the account how early the sun rises, and it would wake you up in the middle of your sleep with how bright it was outside. no worries though, since he has plans to replace them very soon.

you mumble again, lips grazing against his shirt. "why aren't you up yet?"

"i don't have work today." obviously a lie. you may be a bit dumb, but you're well aware it's a weekday today, and nanami isn't the best liar.

you lift your head, gaze shooting up to meet with his. "yes, you do! it's a wednesday." you whisper-yell. "you should be up 'nd getting ready..."

"my day doesn't start until yours does." you feel his hand on top of your head, coaxing you to lay it back down. "if i'm late for work, that's fine. you're more important to me." his touch moves up to your upper arm, and his thumb rubs in lazy circles. "go back to sleep, love. you're tired."

"you're too sappy 'n sweet... gonna make me swoon every time you open your mouth, i swear." you grumble.

"then i'll catch you every time."

"stop!"

sunset.

nanami always reads a book before bed. it's usually historical genres, he's not a big fan of sci-fi or comedy. but sometimes, he'll let himself indulge in the odd romance book here and there. why? they're your favourite genre, the books you read. he memorises each different author that he spots you reading, often gifting you another one of their works if he knows you're not having a good day.

finally, you emerge from the bathroom door, a few folded clothes ready to be put away in the laundry hamper. when you turn to him, you watch his eyes intently as they follow the words on the pages. "that's..?"

"i saw you enjoying it this afternoon." he flips a page. you move closer to the bed, crawling on top of the mattress and inviting yourself into the blankets. "you looked particularly thrilled during it. what do you like about this story?"

you pause, thinking over the entire plot. "it reminds me of us."

nanami can only smile, and he doesn't miss the one on your face. closing the book, he places it on the bedside table, and scoops his other arm underneath you. naturally, you rest your head on his shoulder, and hook one of your legs over his. the small distance between the two of you felt that much more intimate that you felt the need to lower your voice. "are you going to sleep?"

"no." the hand wrapped around your waist moves up to your head, just placing it on top of your scalp. "i want you to talk. you seem eager to talk about it."

you giggle inwardly, snuggling impossibly closer to him. "i'm so in love with you." you whisper.

"i love you too, darling. more than words can express." he whispers back.

no wonder you always wake up so late. it's because nanami always has your heart beating too fast before you go to sleep.

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[alexiroflife]

"i missed you"

MDNI, so much suggestive everything, a little fluff but in the sukuna kind of way

ryomen sukuna x reader

Synopsis: sukuna will never say i miss you, but he will surely show you how much he does when you come home

to sum it up: just a late night thought

WC: 1,816

Warning(s): smut, literally just porn, sukuna has a dirty mouth, a whisper of overstimulation

Sukuna would take out a whole city before he openly admits that he misses you, which unfortunately isn't something you would entirely put past him.

You don't expect him to tell you when he wants to see your face, but you do, however, grow rather accustomed to the way he blows up your phone while you're away with family. When you're given a second to check your notifications, text after text after text lines up from your boyfriend, demanding to know where you are and what you're doing every second of the damn day.

And when he's not making inquiries about every little detail of your life from the moment you wake up to when you go to sleep, he's demanding you return home with empty threats that you know will never be carried out.

-> come home before the next sunrise or you will no longer be welcome within the estate.

-> i've changed my mind. come home tonight, or i am moving your stuff out of our room tomorrow morning.

-> are you seeing my texts? i know you can read. uraume taught me about what this device calls read receipts. answer me now. you are returning home, yes?

-> dammit, woman, just bring your ass back here. what more do you want?

You snort at the texts, your chest warming with endearment at his funny way of expressing his longing for you. He will pull every card, every bluff, every trick besides physically saying that he misses you, and you expect nothing less. After all, if he didn’t, he wouldn't be the Ryomen Sukuna you fell in love with. Somehow, this is more entertaining... just more Sukuna.

When you finally do return home, though, you're in for it. You're hardly even rolling your suitcases to the doors before Sukuna is swinging them open with an aggravated face upon seeing you. You grin widely.

"Kuna! I'm back!"

"Get the fuck in here."

He grabs you by the waist and lifts you up, abandoning your luggage and calling for Uraume to take care of it later. You giggle to yourself as Ryomen carries you with one arm to his chambers, kicking the door closed behind him and tossing you onto the large king bed that the two of you share.

"Well, don't act too excited," you tease.

"Quiet," he demands, voice menacingly low. Sharp hunger swirls in his crimson eyes as he approaches you, the shadow of his burly figure enveloping your frame as he towers over you at the edge of the bed. Your eyes go wide and your heart suddenly pounds in anticipation.

"Wait," you start, reaching a hand out. "Hold on-"

You yelp, the king of curses dragging you harshly by your ankle to the edge. He leans over you, his nose brushing against yours as his blood-red irises seer into your own. He studies you like a predator analyzing its prey before pouncing, devouring. You gulp, innocent lashes batting up at him as heat consumes your body. You know exactly what’s coming to you.

Just then, in his closeness, you remember how much you've missed him while you were away. His scent enrobes you, his eyes undressing you sinfully before he can even rip your clothes from your body. You rub your thighs together in a poor attempt to ease the sudden ache between your legs, and his gaze grows darker.

"You're never leaving this room ever again without my say so," he seethes, a declaration so firm that you almost believe he is being serious, and perhaps in his mind he is.

Your lips quirk up slightly. "Did you miss me that much?"

"Silence," he growls, hooking his fingers into your shorts and tugging them down harshly. You gasp and he tosses them over his head, caging you beneath his mass. "We're not going anywhere until I feel like I've successfully made up for all the time we’ve lost while you were away."

This is your favorite part of returning home from trips, though you don't go away without Sukuna often unless it's to see your family. You hate being away from the king of curses, even if it's for longer than a day. He's got you trained by his hand, somehow, yearning for his touch as though you'll crumble to pieces without it.

But the second you reunite, he has your thighs pressed up with your knees to your ears, hunched over your quivering bare frame, your stomach and legs already coated with three layers of your own fluid. He works his dick into you like it's the last time he ever will, slamming into the warmth of your sloppy pussy as you clench around him helplessly.

You’re whining, begging for more though you've already been given so much, your pretty eyes a fucked out daze as you stare up at him behind low lids, pretty lips parted and slick with his spit. He missed this. He missed seeing you ruined for him, seeing you lay back and struggle to take his fat cook as he bullies it into you with no remorse, feral for impossibly deeper access. And hell, he’d never say it, but he missed you. Your pretty face, your sounds, the smell of your sweet sweat and juices invading Sukuna's senses that are absolutely mouthwatering.

"You keep tryin' to keep this filthy cunt away from me, huh?" he pants, watching as your body rocks back and forth wildly against the mattress. "Fucking shameful. You know you can never take her from me, so I'm not sure why you continue to try..."

"M-n-not," you gasp, your words hardly audible as they melt into the plethora of pathetic moans that string from your swollen lips.

Sukuna presses himself down against you, bare chest to your tits as he fucks you into pace, his lips turning to your ear. "No?" he grunts, pulling back to blow harshly into you, his thick length ramming against your walls and nudging that sweet spot inside you over and over. You cry, clinging to his back and digging your nails into his tatted skin. "Then why the fuck didn't you come home when your king demanded?"

"Pl-hah-pleaseee, k-kuna- nghhh- was with my-my parents," you babble.

"You were with your parents," he repeats mockingly. "Do you think I care for something so unimportant? I called for you. Not your parents."

His hips thrust harshly with the gruff groan of his voice, and he feels your puffy, greedy walls tighten around him.

"Oh? This pussy loves being punished, doesn't it?" he smirks against you. "You're such a fucking whore for my cock, aren't you?"

"Mmmm!"

Sukuna rips himself back, reaching down to clench his thick fingers around your throat. Your jaw hangs open, eyes threatening to roll into the back of your head while his other hand claws at the plush of your damp thigh. "Answer me properly, brat," he hisses. "Use your fucking mouth."

"Y-Yesss!"

"Yes what?"

"M'a whore for your cock, Kuna! Only for you, all for you," you whimper, tears streaming down your pretty face.

"Fuck, I fucking know you are." He spears his dick into, rough, deep, heavy thrusts as the sound of your arousal squelches around him. He looks down, watching with a twisted grin as you coat him in a creamy white ring. "How the hell could you think to hold out on me like this, peach? She'so fuckin' loud."

"S'all yours," you whimper, and Sukuna squeezes harder at your throat, leaning in to brush his lips over your gaping mouth.

"I know that, I don't need you fuckin' telling me," he growls. "All mine. You're mine. You belong to me. You’re not going anywhere else without me. Don’t you even think about it.”

And you're nodding dumbly, eyes barely open.

"You better look at me, girl," he demands, and you snap your eyes back open to peer into his consuming, lust-filled stare. He smiles deviously. "Yeahhh. Keep looking at me while I fuck you stupid."

"Goddd, it's so good..! So good, feel'so good," you slur. Sukuna hums, eying every detail of your face as you curl your brows and moan beautifully into his mouth.

"Fucking gorgeous slut," he grunts. "You better not fucking leave me again, brat, you better fucking not. You've got a lot of nerve, thinking you can take this pussy away from me. You do it again, and I will break you."

"Y'already breaking me- ah fuck!" you cry, screwing your eyes shut the moment his tip brushes your cervix. His hand around your throat moves to grip your cheeks. He pulls you up to his face, smearing a hot kiss against your squished lips, then grabs your hips harshly, plowing into you impossibly faster. "Kuna! Can't! I can't, m'gonna cum again!"

"Yeah? Good. When you do, you're gonna take mine too while I fuck my cum into you. Maybe then that'll make you fucking remember to come to me when I call for you."

The noises coming from your room are obscene. The bed is rocking dangerously against the floor and the wall as Sukuna practically splits you in half, throwing your legs over his shoulders as he traps you beneath him again, sinking his fangs into any patch of skin he can find as you scream out, scratching angry red lines down his well-toned back.

"Mmm, that's right. Keep screaming' for me. Take it like a good fucking slut."

He's filthy, balls smacking against your ass as he seeks your release, and he can feel you clenching tighter and tighter. He groans, pushing in deeper, pressing into you harder.

"Oh shit, please- m'cumming, m'cumming, please let me cum!" you beg, trembling beneath him.

"Fucking do it. Cum all over this cock, peach."

You curl into him, face falling into a mute moan as your eyes disappear into your skull and you rub up into Sukuna. His hand flies to your arched back, holding you against him as he pumps you full, riding out your high until his hot load shoots into your dripping heat soon after, painting you white.

There's so much of it, too. It seems to never end as it drips from where you're connected and runs down your legs. Sukuna growls out animalistic sounds, biting hard into your neck and burrowing his nose in your shoulder as he continues his pace, slowly, then back to a normal space.

You jerk against him, trying to push away. "Oh fuck! N-no, Sukuna, ple- hah! Please, I can't! Too much!"

"Shut the fuck up," he demands, lifting up to slap a hand over your mouth. Your dizzy eyes stare at him widely as he works his cum back into you with his hefty strokes. He exhales harshly, brows angling. "I told you I wasn't letting you leave. You left me, now I expect you to make up for it." 

Yeah… he sure did miss you alright.

[angelicgirlmj]

an angels perfect winter morning: a guide . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

hi angels! this winter i want to perfect my morning routine. i struggle alot with sleep and energy levels, especially during the first few weeks of winter so this guide is a perfect way for me to ensure i have enough energy to get on with a busy and full day and achieve all my goals! while i cant do all of this every day what i try to do is pick a few things to prioritise daily. i hope you enjoy this and find some good routine inspo! especially if you struggle a bit with slumps during the colder months. enjoy.

school/work days - 20 step routine . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

wake up at 6:30 - 70:00.

open curtains and window (if not raining), let air circulate.

do a quick five or ten minute yoga/stretch routine while you watch the sunrise.

make bed (studies suggest its better to let your bed freshen with the sheets unmade first thing to stop the growth of certain bacteria etc).

dress.

clean teeth and floss.

drink glass of lemon water and salt (for natural electrolytes).

start packing lunch or snacks needed for the day.

make a cup of tea (my favourites are chai, green tea or matcha).

make breakfast (my go tos at the moment are turkey bacon and scrambled eggs, sautéed apple and yogurt or a porridge/oatmeal bowl).

clean teeth and mouthwash.

do am skincare.

style hair and jewellery.

make sure bag is fully packed.

journal for a few minutes and plan day.

read or listen to a podcast.

ensure all school work is up together/everything prepared for work.

fill up water bottle for the day.

set up room for when home, leave a cute lamp on, make sure your desk is tidy, lay out evening clothes etc.

put on motivational/winter playlist!

weekends - 20 steps . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

wake up at 8 - 8:30.

open curtains and window.

ten minute yoga/stretch routine.

tidy room and make bed.

get dressed in workout clothes.

do a five minute oil pull then clean teeth.

drink glass of lemon water with salt.

make breakfast and a tea (i normally put mine in a travel mug).

fill up water bottle.

clean teeth and am skincare.

if weather nice go on a little morning walk (half an hour to forty minutes).

journal and light a candle, plan day.

workout (i aim to workout for an hour to an hour and a half on weekends).

have a shower.

body lotions/moisturiser.

file nails.

start any work/projects needed, aim to get all finished by end of morning.

during breaks read or listen to podcast.

start weekend clean of room, change bedsheets, clean surfaces etc.

spend time with family or friends!

i want my winter mornings to be slow and mindful, focused on caring for my body and mind and doing what i can to make this time of the year easier and gentle on every part of me! there are lots of complexities within these routines so consider this a fairly basic, un-detailed guide. i might try to make a guide for any changes i make during the winter/as it gets colder if that would interest you angels? thank you for reading and have a great start to winter!

love, m.

[martian-astro10]

Debilitated planets in astrology

Sun in Libra ⚖️

Sun in Libra is debilitated because sun's aggressive and assertive nature does not go well with Libra's love for harmony and balance. The most common thing that comes with a debilitated sun is the lack of confidence. I know many people with this placement who are actually really good leaders but because they are not confident in their own abilities, they tend to hold themselves back. No matter how much other people praise them, they'll always think that they're not good enough. Can also be people pleasers, I personally think that you guys should not be in a relationship unless you strengthen your sun. They are much more likely than others to be victims of peer pressure. There can be some problems with heart, bones, or stomach, or it's like, your stomach is the first thing that hurts when you get sick, migraines and fevers are also common. To strengthen your sun, you should do the following things, (do the things that you can, you don't have to do every single one, I'm listing down all the ones that I know) :

Perform Surya namaskar or just do yoga in the morning.

Use a copper glass to drink water.

Offer water to sun every morning (when it rises) from a copper vessel.

Look at the sunrise with your eyes, if you wear glasses, remove the glasses and then look at it. JUST as the sun is rising, don't wake up at 11 am, and then look at the sun.

You shouldn't eat a lot of meat, I'm not telling you to become a vegetarian, but do lessen the consumption of meat and try to eat more fruits and vegetables instead.

Wear red colored clothes more often, and also donate red colored clothes to orphanages, it can be helpful.

If you're a Hindu and you LIKE being a Hindu, then chant this, "om suryaya namaha" 3 times in the morning before leaving your house or if you're offering water to sun then do it that time only.

Moon in Scorpio 🦂

Moon is debilitated in Scorpio. People with a debilitated moon are highly prone to stress, much more than others, they also very easily get Black circles under their eyes, it's like, even if they sleep a little less for a day, you'll see it on their faces, their hair starts turning grey very early on in life. They can have sinus problems and be prone to allergies. Also, I read this somewhere, but it's turned out to be true for every person that I know has a weak moon, their sweat smells very very bad, I'm sorry 😭. They can also be scared of water, not like bathing and regular stuff but swimming and doing water sports. HUGE mood swings, one moment they're shouting at you and the next they're asking for a hug and talking sweetly. Highly sensitive to criticism, will get offended at the smallest things, this results in them being very defensive over their interests and lifestyle. Their intuition is weak and they can struggle to figure out the true intentions of people, can get very easily manipulated. Lactose intolerance is something that I've noticed in a lot of people with a weak moon. Can have problems with mental health, like anxiety and adhd, weak chest, breast, ovaries, uterus, problems with menstrual cycle, irregular periods, fertility issues. cold and cough are very common. To strengthen your moon, you should do the following things :

Avoid spending time alone.

Practice meditation every day to calm down the mind.

Offer milk to shivaling if you can.

Avoid having birds as pets.

Eat coconut and wear white clothes, or even wearing a white scarf with usual clothes is fine.

You should also use sandalwood oil to improve sleep or use it while meditating as well.

Chant "Om Shram Shreem Shroum Sah Chandramase Namah" 3 times everyday, do it while meditating.

Mercury in Pisces 🐟

Mercury is debilitated in Pisces. Communication problems are a given with this placement. People can misunderstand their words quite often, it's like, even when they're trying to compliment someone, it sort of ends up sounding like an insult, when that wasn't their interntion in the first place. They can be the "invisible" friend in the group, it's like even if they go away nobody will notice or be affected by their absence. The friend who always has to walk behind when there's no space left, the one that is left behind when they stop to tie their laces, the one that tries to be social and funny but ends up failing miserably. They feel alone even if they're surrounded by people. This is especially true when they're young, but they look at all these people around them, having fun, dating, partying, and then they're just THERE, just existing, that feeling is common. Overthinking, nobody can beat them to it, sitting in class, having a doubt but not bringing it up cuz you're afraid of being perceived as stupid. They're also very sensitive to criticism. They do have a really strong intuition though, can see right through people, good judge of characters. Frequently engage in maladaptive daydreaming, will act like a princess whose knight is in love with her, but she is forced to marry a prince from another kingdom, frequently cook up stories like this in their heads (totally not speaking from personal experience). They daydream to avoid reality, but like who doesn't. There can be problems related to throat, nervous system, ulcers, fractures, UTI's, iron and haemoglobin issues as well. To strengthen your Mercury, you should do the following things :

Wash new clothes before wearing them.

Chanting mantras related to lord budhha.

Eat green vegetables and fruits

Keep good oral hygiene, clean your teeth and tongue THOROUGHLY (everyone should do this btw, cuz...basic hygiene)

Chant "Om gan ganpataye namah" 3 times in the morning before leaving your house

Venus in Virgo 🦊

Venus is debilitated in Virgo. These people can be very critical of their partners, will always try to find faults with them. Can be overly concerned with outer appearances. They struggle a lot with self love, Cassie from euphoria is a pretty accurate representation of someone with a debilitated Venus. They have low self esteem and as a result, can get together with people who try to pull them down and the worst part is that they tend to believe them. They have a bad fashion sense, they're more likely to follow trends, not realising that those clothes are not the best for THEIR body type. Dependency issues in relationship is very common. They are creative, but don't know how to express it, most of the times, they're not even aware of this creativity. They can also be more prone than others to get addicted to alcohol or drugs, so I would advise you to stay away from them. If you haven't consumed it yet, then it's better to not even try. Can have problems related to kidneys, skin, eyes, sexual hormones (PCOS is common in women with this placement), hormonal disorders. To strengthen your Venus, you should do the following things :

You should avoid taking anything for free, for ex, you know how in some stores they offer things to taste, like snacks and all, don't try them.

You should use cow ghee to cook food.

Wear silver jewellery and use nice perfumes.

Pour white flowers in water, preferably a big body of water.

Never repeat your clothes without washing them first. Don't wear unwashed clothes.

Chant "Om shum shukraya Namah"

Mars in Cancer 🦀

Mars is debilitated in Cancer. These people are always a little lethargic, the type to wake up tired no matter how much sleep they get (yk that meme, that goes "when you wake up and can't wait to go back to sleep". They don't like to eat healthy food, can be obsessed with eating junk all the time. I know people with this placement who are ADDICTED to cheese, won't eat anything without it. Can get bruised very easily and most of the time they aren't even aware of how they got it. Get frequent body pains because of weak muscles. Don't know how to express their sexuality in a healthy manner. They have Weak concentration skills and low attention span. There can be property related disputes in the family, you'll probably not inherit anything (good) from your family. They use displacement as their defence mechanism, anger is always directed at the wrong person because they're too weak to hurt the people who've hurt them. They can be very passive aggressive. There can be problems related to bones, muscles, blood, genitals, rectum, hands and prostate gland. To strengthen your mars, you should do the following things :

You should donate blood.

Carry red things with you, it shouldn't be too big, small enough to fit in your pocket.

Eat red fruits and vegetables, like, pomegranates, beetroot, apple, cherry, red pepper, etc.

Chanting or reading Hanuman chalisa can help a LOT ( I would give an example but the whole situation was very detailed)

Use copper utensils to eat food and drink water in a copper glass.

Jupiter in Capricorn 🐐

Jupiter is debilitated in Capricorn. For some weird reason, they always get teachers who have a problem with them. Their teachers always pin point their faults and try to humiliate them. But when they grow old, like 25+ they finally manage to find someone who does their best to guide them, this teacher will have a huge impact on their life. They are likely to become more spiritual and less religious as they grow up. I know a lot of people with this, and they all ended up becoming the head of their household, it doesn't matter if they're a man or a woman, married or divorced, they are gonna be the ones to manage their family. There will be a lot of difficulties in terms of career, you might have to work twice as hard as others to get the same benefits. There can be financial difficulties as well, it usually happens because most of the time, these people are the breadwinners, so whatever they earn, gets used for their family instead. So it FEELS like they earn less even if they earn a lot. This is a very bad placement for women, since the probability of getting a bad husband increases. The women with this get ghosted a lot. You can be more prone than others to health problems like, diabetes, obesity, insomnia, gall bladder stones, ear and gastric troubles. To strengthen your Jupiter, you should do the following things :

Apply a blend of turmeric powder and sandalwood on your forehead, a short line with your thumb (dip your thumb in the mixture and then put your thumb between your eyebrows and draw a ⬆️ line)

Offer bananas to people.

Avoid consuming meat and alcohol.

Wear yellow clothes (avoid wearing dark Colors) or keep something yellow with you permanently.

Practice meditation.

Wear gold, it can be a small chain or a ring as well.

Chant "Om brim brihaspataye namah"

Saturn in Aries 🐏

Saturn is debilitated in Aries. These people are very irresponsible and make fake promises. They'll do everything except what they're actually supposed to do. Have a tendency to blame others for their failures, I know quite a few people with this and.....🙄. These people are not good leaders but they think they are, this leads to them taking leadership roles through force. They look scary and they ARE scary, nobody can stand up to them. They're unable to manage resources effectively and this can lead to severe financial difficulties. They also end up making a lot of enemies, so even if they become successful, it won't be for long. There can be problems related to, legs, knees and joints. To strengthen your Saturn, you should do the following things :

Brush your teeth with a neem toothpaste.

Honestly, be a vegetarian, this is the only planet for which I would recommend you guys to NOT consume meat and alcohol. I know 100's of people who were literally dying during their Saturn mahadasha and then became perfectly fine once they stopped eating meat and drinking alcohol.

Be a decent human being, that is literally all that Saturn asks of you 😭

Drink cow milk ONLY, if that's not available then don't drink milk.

Always keep a little ball of silver with you.

Wear dark green clothes.

(there are many factors that can cancel the debilitation of a planet, and these remedies help too, so don't worry too much if you have planets in debilitation)

Divider by @strangergraphics-archive

© martian-astro All rights reserved, 2024

[m-ilkiee]

Monsters: Mikey Sano x Reader x Izana Kurokawa

Chapter 2: Shots Fired

series summary: your grievous sin was Emma standing up for you to her brothers. and now you’re going to pay the heavy price for destroying their perfect family dynamic.

chapter summary: Izana Kurokawa demands your attention and he doesn’t take no for an answer. Not even when his demands are outrageous.

cw: DARK CONTENT, MISOGYNY, NSFW, r*pe mention, religious guilt, depictions of PTSD and CPTSD, emotional incest, abandoment issues, violence, revenge porn, depression, filming without consent, drugging, implied domestic abuse, victim blaming, blackmailing, manipulation, gaslighting, mind break, psychological torture, use of firearms

r-18+ (not suitable for 17 and under)

wc: 11.6k

[masterlist] [chapter 1] [chapter 3] [taglist]

a/n: likes are nice, comments and reblogs with comments are superior, anons are also superior too and would make me update faster cause it means people like what i write. this chapter takes an entirely different turn from the old story, some scenes are similar but the context is different. i host polls after this so stay tuned. Edit 02/11/2024: this chapter's end has been edited and changed. I've indicated the edited point, so that you could skip other parts to read it. Thank you.

 YOU haven’t been able to stay asleep for the past few days.

It’s easy to fall asleep after a hard and stressful day at school and your part-time job. Your limbs ache from all the walking and lugging a bookbag far heavier than what you could handle -since all your e-textbooks were on your (now destroyed) laptop and phones were not allowed during lectures. And working from 5pm until 9pm at a restaurant, serving food to rude, overbearing customers only to be paid in pieces was another added stress in itself.

Not to mention, studying until the words are bleary and just looking at a book hurts your eyes.

But then, in all your dreams, everything you’ve pushed to the back of your memory is at the forefront. Your dream starts typically, your normal school day, waking up, dressing in your cute little blue crop sweater and jean skirt with socks. You go to classes, and then you see Mikey’s car waiting for Emma.

Things take a different turn. He’s the one getting out of the car to meet you. It’s like a siren call, him holding out his hand for you to take despite someone screaming for you to stop. You try to reject him, try to run away like the voice said but you end up getting trapped. This time, he’s not using his hands. He’s fully sheathed inside you, robbing you of the thing you hold so dear while you kick, bite and claw at him until you wake up screaming, sweat soaked all over your sheets.

You consistently dream of being violently raped by Manjiro Sano.

The next few hours until sunrise were equally horrible. You’re quietly sobbing into your pillows, praying to God to forgive you for letting Mikey touch you in the first place, assuming your reason for having such dreams was God’s divine judgement for your grievous sin. You’ve lost count on how many Bible verses you stay up reading until your eyes are bleary and the sun comes up.

No matter how much you pray and how many times you recite psalms 127 before you sleep, you can never escape Mikey in the world of dreams. He’s a virus that has invaded your thoughts, corrupting every dream you had and twisted them into nightmares.

You don’t know how long you can hold on being this sleep deprived. It’s been impairing your school life, trying to find a way to stay awake during classes only for you to fall asleep and miss the rest of it. Even when you got notes from the person next to you, reading them was always difficult because your eyes hurt so much.

Work was even more taxing and stressful, rush week adding more stress than you could ever imagine. You found yourself spacing out more than usual when you were supposed to be taking orders. You were unable to keep up with the fast paced environment, your body feeling like a ton of bricks with every moment you make. Your eyes were heavy lidded, tired from forcing them open throughout the day.

You were so, so tired-

“Hello! Are you sleeping on me young lady?” A voice snapped at you.

Your eyes shot open and immediately you stood back straight. You must have been dozing off while taking the older lady’s order -the very thing you’ve been trying to avoid all day long. “No, not at all Ms-” you started to explain. “-I was just … what was your order aga-”

You flinched when the woman angrily slammed her fist on the table, shutting you up instantly! “So you were sleeping on the job! What kind of establishment allows this?” She screamed, attracting the attention of customers around. “I need to speak to your manager. NOW!”

You instantly began to panic at the mention of your manager. If he heard any of this, he was definitely going to fire you. You cannot afford to lose this job right now, with all your school expenses and saving up money for next session’s tuition.

“No mam!” you begged, keeping your voice even as you tried to reason with her. “Th-there’s no need for that! Please! Let me take your order and I’ll-” you racked your brain for an excuse, knowing fully well your establishment does not offer free meals. “- I’ll pay for your meal! On me-”

“So you’re trying to imply I’m poor?” She interrupted you again, her tempo even higher than before. “You disrespectful little wretch! How dare you? GET ME YOUR MANAGER RIGHT NOW!”

You started begging the older woman, trying to calm her down and de-escalate the situation, but each plea only fuelled her rage. By now, every customer, every employee and just anyone in that place watched you grovel and beg this woman to calm down, some people even videoing your altercation. Your body was trembling as she screeched in your ears, calling you all sorts of names while you relentlessly apologised to her.

“What is going on here?”

You winced at the sound of your manager’s voice emerging from the backrooms. You stood stiffly as he walked to your side, using his shoulder to nudge you out of the way. “Is there something wrong Ms.?” He asked the lady. “What happened?”

“This little wretch!” She practically screeched at you, her finger wagging straight at your hung face. “She was sleeping while I was ordering! And when I pointed it out to her calmly, she called me a hag!”

Your eyes snapped open. You can tolerate people yelling at you, but lying is out of the question. “I did not call you anything! That’s a lie-”

“You be quiet!” Your manager yelled at you, silencing you. He turned to face the woman again, apologising profusely for your so called rude behaviour. “I promise you mam, she will be dealt with accordingly. Your order is in the house, please take that as a token of our humble apology and forgive us.”

You stood there in shock as the woman smirked satisfactorily at her now free meal. “Well, you better get rid of her!” She snarked, eyes scanning you up and down, plopping back down on her seat. “Or you’ll lose me as a patron.”

“Of course mam.” He said sweetly before switching his countenance towards you into a more irritated one. “You, come with me.”

You lowered your head once again in disappointment as you started following your manager towards the back rooms, your head lowered in shame as the eyes followed your every move to your damnation waiting for you in the manager’s office.

Your skin crawled as you felt his penetrating gaze on you, as if judging you. “You know how many complaints I have received this week just from you, (name)? How many orders you’ve messed up?”

You shook your head no in response, not trusting yourself to say anything reasonable at this point. He eyes you up and down again before scoffing at you rudely. “I only let you stay here because you said you were desperate for a job. But apparently, you’re not even bothered enough to keep it.” He spat out. “Unfortunately for you, this is the end of the road for you here. Change out of your uniform and leave.”

“But s-”

“I said you’re FIRED. GET OUT.”

You sighed weakly, obeying your now ex-manager’s order and leaving the office. You ignored the eyes of everyone watching you exchange the too tight black jeans and green top uniform back to your white bohemian skirt and light blue top with your white jacket. Calmly, you packed your school bag and everything you owned with you and slung it over your shoulder, replacing the uniform back to the locker, dropping the key on top.

No one said goodbye to you as you left through the back door.

  IZANA knows it's creepy to be waiting for Emma just outside her college, but it's not like he has a choice when she keeps ignoring any method he uses to contact her.

Mindlessly, he fiddled with his lighter with his back on the wall of the English department building and an unlit cigarette between his lips. Purple eyes scanned the people leaving the building one by one, hoping to find a mop of golden hair amongst the students. His hopes rose with each blond he saw, only for him to deflate when he realised they weren't her.

A few minutes passed and still no sign of Emma. Deciding that he didn’t want to stand around and gape, Izana lifted his lighter towards his cigarette, flicking the light twice and bringing the warm flame to his lips. Breathing in the familiar scent of nicotine, smoke filled his lungs as he tucked the lighter back in his pockets. His free hand took the cigarette from his lips and he exhaled, releasing plumes of smoke from his lips.

His smoking habit had gotten worse within the past week. Izana couldn’t help it, reaching for a light anytime he saw his gifts in the dustbin. Emma hasn’t been this angry at him before. Usually a new plushie was enough to wash his sins clean, no matter how grevious they were. Now, not even the most expensive shoes she’s been eyeing for months could satiate her anger.

All because of you.

Izana knows his little sister like the back of his hand. Like how she loved sleeping with plushies because it comforted her whenever their mother brought her gambling friends into the house and they were loud. Or how he picked up a guitar to learn multiple barbie songs because their mother had destroyed Emma’s CD that he bought with his money to punish her. He knew she liked warm tea during her periods and gentle back rubs to ease her pain. He’s not the best person to be around, with how fucked over he was by life until Shinichiro gave him purpose but he loved his sister a lot and everything he did was to protect her. Life hardened him, made him so jaded that the only thin thread connecting him to his humanity was Emma and he’d do anything to protect his humanity.

Only to watch it slip through his fingers.

First it was Mikey’s stupid friend, Ken Ryugi, who waltzed his way into Emma’s life. Izana didn’t like him one bit- didn’t like how Emma would bite her lip, waiting for him to reply and cry herself to sleep when he didn’t. Her heart was soft, fragile and that brute tore it apart by telling her he wasn’t interested in a relationship yet.

The only reason Ken wasn’t in an unmarked, shallow grave in the middle of nowhere was simply because Mikey was involved.

Now it is you, taking the space in her life that belonged to him and Mikey. You’re pushing both of them out of the equation, threatening their position in their sister’s life and everything they know.

Izana wonders how someone so insignificant was so important to Emma that she was willing to cut communications with her own brothers. It baffles him beyond understanding and at the same time enrages him that she could trust you so easily. That she was willing to turn against him in your name.

He took more puffs, skimming throughout the campus for any sight of her. It didn’t matter how he felt about it, as Kisaki had convinced him to ask Emma and you to go shopping, just to get back into Emma's good graces again. Apparently doing a nice gesture publicly for you would convince their sister to give them another chance again.

Especially because Izana had been the biggest opposition to their friendship.

“But Mikey was a little shit about them too.” he grumbles underneath his breath, cigarette in hand. “Why do I have to be the one to apologise? And why did Mikey get an out while I’m doing all the heavy lift-”

His thoughts were cut short the second he caught sight of a familiar blonde hair bouncing in the wind and stood up straight, tossing the cigarette to the floor and crushing it underneath his black shoes, before rushing to catch up to his little sister.

Izana pushed through the throng of people, violently shoving anyone that got in his way until he finally fell in step with her, slowing down to match her pace. Without wasting time, his hand curled around the girl’s wrist, stopping her in her tracks instantly and earning a shocked gasp escaped her lips.

���Get off me - Izana?”

Her free hand was fast to hit him, but her head was faster in turning around, only to recognize it was just Izana. Her hand stopped inches away from the smirking male’s face, the tension leaving her body and relief taking its place. It doesn’t last long, though as irritation suddenly crawls on her face, instantly displeased at his actions. “What the hell? I’ve told you to stop doing that.” she hissed at him.

A mischievous grin made its way to his face at Emma’s irritation. She always had a pout whenever she was angry at him and it made look even more adorable.

“Were you scared?” He teased, pulling Emma closer to him until she was practically smushed at his side, despite the glare she gave him in response. “You know no one would dare touch you.”

“Get off me. Your breath stinks like nicotine, I thought you said you quit smoking that shit.”

Ignoring Emma’s last question, he decided to change the topic. “Your lapdog isn't here with you?” he asked. Usually, you would be hovering behind her like a damn pest, so you not being around her was rather strange. 

Emma is quick to shove him off lightly, putting some distance between the two of them, clearly still mad at him. "(Name)'s not feeling well, so she didn't come to class today. I'm on my way to get her medicine."

Oh, that's a surprise.

But with you out of the way, Izana could finally have Emma all to himself for today and hang out with his beloved sister. Maybe even make up for the party thing without apologising to you. Without you here, it’s likely Emma isn’t as mad at the whole situation and is playing it up to make you feel like you have someone on your side.

He knows you’re not going to protest if Emma says she’s in talking terms with her brothers again. It’s a win-win situation and he doesn’t have to grovel or ask for forgiveness for some joke that went wrong.

"So that means we can hang out?"

"Excuse me?"

"You don't have to keep pretending you're still mad at me now that she isn't here." He spews the 'she' with so much venom it could kill, before switching up with a sick grin, his hand stretched out. "We can go to Vivienne Westwood and get that Saturn necklace you like, what do you say?"

His words hung in the air as Emma trailed her pointed glare from his hand, back to his cheerful visage. She crossed her arms in response slowly, her yellow eyes burning holes into his face as her lips curled into a sick sneer.

“Are you insane?”

“What?”

“Don’t ‘what?’ me Izana! I just told you (name)'s ill and you're asking me to go with you to shop at Vivienne westwood? Are you nuts?”

Emma’s voice was loud enough to garner wandering eyes of other by-standers, watching the event go down. Izana kept his composure, despite his bubbling irritation beneath the surface of his skin, with a smile -albeit stiffer than before. ‘She’s just being emotional’ Izana whispered to himself, still trying to be rational. ‘Just take it easy with her’

“Oh come on, should I care about her-"

"You should be begging her to forgive you for what you did to her that night!"

"You can't still be mad at me for that shit that happened two weeks ago. And besides, it's not my fault she couldn't take a joke” his words were smooth, buttery, flowing out of his lips like it was the truth, digging his own grave. “I didn’t know your friend was that sensitive-”

“Are you listening to the bullshit coming from your mouth?” Emma roared, her voice echoing throughout the entirety of the department, her face red with fury. Izana had never seen his own beloved sister ever look at him with such disgust in her eyes, her teeth gnashing against each other and hands at her side, clenching against each other. “Is that what you think a joke sounds like?”

“Calm the fuck dow-”

“No wonder you’re fucking single, you’re such a piece of shit to anyone that isn’t Shinichiro!” Emma screamed, interrupting Izana once again, her temper fiery enough to burn a hole on the ground she stood with how heated she was. “How does anyone even stand you for so long? You’re unbearable!”

“Excuse m-”

He doesn’t like where the conversation is going, with how furious Emma was right now. He tried to raise a comforting hand to Emma’s shoulder to ease her tension but she was quick to smack it away from her hard, stinging his fingers a little.

“You’re so unpleasant, how do you even have any friends? How do they tolerate you? To think (name) wanted me to forgive you! Thank god you aren’t my fucking brother, I can’t imagine being anything like you!”

The words left her mouth before she could stop herself.

It was as if the world froze over for Izana. He stood there, wide eyed, his heart beating loudly in his chest as all the voices around him faded into the background. His hand extended weakly at his side, mouth drying up as a lump formed in his throat. 

“I-I-i" she starts to stutter. It’s obvious that she can recognize what she had just said as he blankly stared at her. "I didn't mean i-”

He doesn’t let her finish, turning on his heel and walking away as fast as possible. People were quick to clear out of his way, not wanting to be his target of aggression. Emma followed behind, instantly, shouting his name at the top of her lungs followed with strings of apologies.

“Izana, wait please-” she screamed from the crowd of people, tears streaming from her yellow eyes. He continued to ignore her as he hopped on his bike, sliding in the key and revving up the engine before she could reach him.

Izana zoomed away, turning Emma’s cries into background noise, her words repeating in his head.

“I didn’t mean it! I’M SORRY-”

YOU don't know which was worse, the feeling of helplessness that came with the reality of your life crashing before your very eyes or the splitting headache you've developed after crying in your room for a week straight. Laying on your bed all day, huddled up in a blanket and sobbing uncontrollably was unhealthy, but it was all you found the strength to do these days. 

In all your years of being alive, you've never felt this pathetic. Not when you would be pushed outside in the pouring rain if you made a mistake in making dinner, or had been beaten with a belt in front of Yuzhua and Hakkai because you failed your catechism test. You could protect yourself from your brothers when they got violent. You could run and hide when your dad was really angry and wanted to take it out on you.

Unfortunately, no one told you what to do when your life is falling apart.

Ever since that day, you couldn't find the strength to go to class or do anything for that matter. It was like your entire energy was sucked out of you, leaving your body an empty husk with nothing left to give. 

You only have yourself to blame.

You drag the blankets closer to your body, sniffling a bit. The worst part of all of this is that after this month, if you don’t find a job that pays you quickly, you are going to be broke. It’s times like this that makes you regret leaving your family. You know it’s wishful thinking, but you wonder if you would be forgiven assuming you return home in tears and repentant of your sin of disobedience like the prodigal son in the bible. Life is too hard to live in the outside world without the help and guidance of a parent. You miss your old life, with your own bed and guaranteed food, as long as you did as you were told. You miss how sometimes your parents took you and your siblings to eat out after church.

You miss your mother. You want to go back to her. Life is hard, and dealing with being jobless with nowhere to turn to is harder. You could ask Emma, but she’s already taking care of you and there was no way you would bother your friend about your money problems.

"Hey babes, I got the medicine for you."

Emma's soft voice rouses you out of your self-pity session. The wood creaks underneath her heels as she walks to your bed and takes a seat besides you, the mattress dipping underneath her weight. The scent of her Vivienne Westwood wafting through your nostrils fills you with a sense of warmth, familiarity and at the same time, dread.

You feel guilty. Perhaps it's because you don't know how to tell Emma what exactly is wrong with you. It's easier to give her the half-truth that you caught a stomach bug than say everything. If you even as much as hinted that Manjiro had something to do with the real reason you were a sobbing mess on your bed, you're sure she would overreact and fight with her brothers again.

But still, not telling her meant you were keeping secrets from her. Something you both promised not to ever do as you two became best-friends.

‘It’s for her own good.’ you try to justify it. ‘It’s better I keep my mouth shut.’

Pushing that thought at the back of your mind, you roll over to her direction, pulling down your blanket just a little bit to see her properly. Your heart drops at the sadness etched onto Emma’s face, a forlorn look in her eyes. You hated seeing her down, yet all you’ve been doing for the past few months since you came into her life was causing her pain. You know how it feels to lose family, no matter how bad they were to you and Emma is no different.

“Hey”

Your voice is hoarse from your constant crying, but Emma doesn’t mention it as she reaches a hand to caress your face. “You look better than yesterday. You up to eat?”

You nodded briefly, realising how hungry you were. You’ve barely had an appetite to eat anything, so your rations had been smaller and compact until you regained it back bit by bit, thanks to Emma’s constant care. Pushing yourself up, you sit up and yawn, quickly covering your mouth the moment a bad stench emanates from it. Emma’s face quickly grows sour as well, probably smelling it too.

“You haven’t showered.”

“Uhhh-”

You knew there was no excuse for that one as Emma put the food and medicine away before yanking you off the bed while talking about how gross you were for not showering throughout today. “You’re a girl (name), don’t do this to yourself, c’mon-”

“But-” you start to whine, trying to defend yourself. “I was tired-”

“Nope!” she retorted, pushing you towards the bathroom. “No excuses! I swear you’re acting like Mikey when he’s in one of his moods-”

The room falls silent at her words, the cheerful aura dropping the second Emma realises what she’s said, a wave of guilt washing over her face as she lets go of your hands.

“Fuck- I’m sorry (name)...”

Your heart aches at how heartbroken she sounds right now and shatters even further at the fact that everything, every problem they were experiencing right now was all your fault. You saw it deep in Mikey’s eyes how much pain and suffering your presence in their family had caused, and how his anger reflected that action towards you. You’ve been so entrenched in your own problems that you forgot the mess you made in their family.

“Emma, you miss them don’t you?”

‘It’s not too late.’ You mutter to yourself, your heart in your throat as you steel your resolve. You couldn’t let her make that mistake you made by leaving your family aside. You don’t want Emma to be like you.

“(Name), please don’t-”

“You can’t keep ignoring them forever.” You cut her short, speaking directly to her now. “You can’t keep ignoring Draken either too. You’re miserable.”

“I’m fin-”

“Emma no.” You snap at her, finally having enough of her stubbornness as anger swells up in you. “I see how sad you look everytime you look at your pictures with your big brothers and Draken. Do you think that it’s healthy to keep ignoring them like this?”

“You were the one they hurt, you shouldn’t feel bad for them-”

“It doesn’t matter! I don’t matter!” You yell desperately, now pulling away from her grasp in an attempt to put your foot down. “They are the ones who matter a lot. Those are you family members! People who love you and have protected you for years! Just talk it out with them! They miss you for god’s sake!”

“What the hell do you mean you don’t matter?” Emma roars back at you, suddenly enraged by your outburst. You nearly stumble back at how angry she sounded, fear creeping into your skin as your verbal claws retract. “You matter to me! You mean the world to me as any of them do! You’re my best friend and I love you and if they don’t understand that then there is nothing to make up for!”

By the time she was done yelling, her breathing was heavy and her eyes so intense you couldn’t even stare at her. Your eyes quickly flickered to your feet instead; scared of seeing the disappointment on her face and terrified of her anger. You didn’t like it when Emma yelled, it reminded you of your mother getting angry at you, something you hated doing to her.

Eventually, she took a deep breath and took a step closer to you, her hand intertwined with yours. “Come on, I’ll help you shower.”

You silently follow behind her, eyes downcast and shoulders slumped.

  PERHAPS Izana should be angry at Emma.

It would be justified after the words she said from her mouth, but he can’t because he knows the truth. Emma was just angry as well and she didn’t mean any of the words she had said to hurt him. She said them because of you, however and he realises that every fight they’ve had is over your presence in her life.

Which meant that the true culprit was you.

People may believe in love at first sight, but from the first day Izana set his eyes on you, he could only feel hatred towards you. You were just there, sitting awkwardly while Emma tried to involve you in their conversation and it irked him.

At first, Izana thought it was the fact that the both of you were clashing personalities that made him feel that way, but then you keep getting in his way and ruining things for him. He hates everything about you - the way you picked your finger when you were nervous. Your bright smile you gave to only Emma and how easy it was for her to like you. Just your mere presence in general was enough to set him off because of how simple it was for you to be close to Emma while you barely knew her. It felt like he was losing his only sister to a stranger, and now the Emma who stands in front of him is a mere mockery of his real sister.

And that’s the frustrating part. He can’t do anything to hurt you. He’s smart enough to know that if he does, Emma would never forgive him.

“... Kurokawa, are you here with us?”

Izana snaps back to reality as Kisaki taps the table three times to get his attention. ‘I might have spaced out.’ He thinks to himself before facing the entirety of the table; Tetta Kisaki, the rather shrewd and ruthless dealer sitting, his equally irritating lap dog Shuji Hanma and the little shit that he called his younger brother, Mikey.

Speaking of Mikey, ever since that day he made that phone call and revealed his brand new plan of accepting you into their friend group, he’s been very quiet. Even throughout today’s meeting, he hasn’t said a word, aside from mentioning that Draken was going to be absent and asking where Kakucho was before the meeting began.

And knowing his brother, a quiet Mikey is a suspicious Mikey.

Now that Izana thinks about it, he’s noticed that Mikey, who was on his side initially had suddenly switched to trying to apologise to you. Which was weird, considering how egocentric Mikey could be on the topic of apologising. Izana has his suspicions, but then again Mikey is unpredictable due to his rather dark impulses, so he couldn’t really say anything yet, until Kakucho came back from his task.

Izana cleared his throat and faced Kisaki again, deciding to be as honest as possible. After all, it’s their fault that he’s in this mess, might as well remind them. “Just thinking about how Emma practically called me a bastard and I’m supposed to be okay with it.” He said nonchalantly and the air in the room shifted into an uncomfortable silence for the upteenth time this week ever since that unfortunate day. It isn’t surprising to anyone as to why though, Izana’s complicated relationship with the Sano’s is a sore topic that no one ever dared to bring up.

From Kisaki’s tight lipped expression, Izana is sure that the younger male is picking his words carefully in his head. Even Hanma who would have laughed or said something to intentionally piss off Izana remains silent. Eventually, Kisaki lets out a resigned sigh. “The audit would be done another time.” He states in a cool tone, putting his laptop aside before facing the two brothers. “It’s obvious we’re not gonna do anything useful until you resolve this issue with Emma and her friend.”

“Really?” The white haired male mocks, causing Kisaki to shift in his place, an irritated frown creasing his face. “would you like to hear my pla-”

“We’re not going to kill a civilian and draw attention to ourselves, Izana. I’ve already told you what to do.” Kisaki snapped back, his yellow eyes darting from Izana to Mikey, before narrowing in irritation. “Both of you. Just apologise to (name), it’s not that hard. You don’t even have to mean it, the girl won’t even know the difference-”

“Ah yes, cause that went well the last time.”

“And whose fault is that? I clearly told you to say “I’m sorry” and all you did was make things worse!”

“I’m just brutally honest.” Izana spits back. “And you can’t blame me because I tried, compared to Mikey who sits on his damn ass and has done nothing-”

“I wasn’t the one who called her a cheap hooker!” Mikey interjects defensively, sitting upright after staying quiet from the start of this meeting, finally saying something.

“Oh, so you can speak.” Izana retorts back, his voice cold. Mikey is so good at shifting blame onto others for actions he has a hand in, especially when he knows it would reflect badly on him. Unfortunately, Izana has been in this game longer than his little brother. “I thought you had gone mute with the way you don’t want to talk about the issue beyond pushing me to apologise to her.”

“You don’t make it any easier with how you talk to people.” Mikey hisses back, his tempo rising with each word, but Izana can hear the slight shake in his voice, almost as if he’s hiding something. “How am I supposed to do anything if you keep saying shit like you’re glad (name)’s gone?”

(Name)?

The entire room falls silent at Mikey’s sudden outburst, or rather what Mikey had just said. No one says a word as they all stare at Mikey in shock, eye wide and mouth hanging open like he’d grown two heads. There’s a glimmer of confusion in the dark eyed male before the realisation of his mistake washes over him, his facial expression changing into a mixture of guilt and pure terror.

As if he’s been caught doing something he shouldn’t have.

It’s unmistaken. Izana knows his brother is hiding something and it has to do with you. “You’ve never,” he starts slowly, never taking his eyes off Mikey, gauging his facial expression. “called her by her name. You only call girls who you had something to do with by their name.”

“I-”

“You fucked her, didn’t you.” it’s a statement, not a question. Mikey grows pale and it's more of a sure answer than anything else at all.

“I didn’t do anything bad… she’s still a virgin-”

“What.” Kisaki, interjecting as well, cuts him off, his voice cold. “Did. You. Do?”

Mikey is silent. It’s brief and doesn’t last long as he finally seals his fate with a quiet voice. “It’s not my fucking fault, she wore a short skirt and she was asking for it-”

At the side, Kisaki crumples back onto the dining table seat, his head in his hands muttering a quiet “Oh fuck, I should have stayed with Osanai.” as he shakes in disbelief. Hanma just sits there, clearly perturbed, not knowing how to react but at the same time, not really interested.

“Glad to know I’m not the only screw up.” Izana scoffs as well. Despite how cheery his voice sounded, the furious look on his face says a different story altogether. “Since apparently you’re just as stupid as I am.”

Mikey runs a hand through his golden locs, frustration evident on his features. No one has ever seen him look so frantic, like a little kid who broke something and is trying to hide it. “I didn’t do anything wrong. Sure she said no at first but I knew she wanted it when she relaxed in my touch-”

“That’s not what Emma’s gonna think, you idiot!” Izana barks at him angrily, his temper finally off the rails. “You practically threw away your entire plan before it even started! All for what? Mediocre pussy you could get from some other girl? And you know how Shin is about this shit. If Emma finds out and tells him, we’re screwed!”

There’s a mixture of emotions swirling in Izana right now. The urge to punch Mikey was strong, for daring to not only lie to his face, but also making him look like a fool to cover his ass.

Then again, he knows it’s really not Mikey’s fault but yours. You must have done something to make Mikey hurt you because he knows his little brother doesn’t hurt girls. You have this effect of turning people into worse versions of themselves, making them disgusting, evil and hateful.

You turned Emma against them and now you made Mikey’s dark impulses come out.

It’s you that’s the problem.

“So what anyone find out? They won’t believe her” Mikey snarls back, irritated. “She can’t blame me, I told her to fucking leave but she didn’t listen! She was practically begging me to fuck her-”

“ENOUGH!”

Kisaki’s voice is loud enough to silence the two brothers, ending their argument instantly as they breathe heavily from their prior screaming match. Izana slumps back on his seat as Kisaki sits up straight, eyes narrowed. Mikey does the same as Izana, his jaw tightly clenched as he crosses his arms on his chest, feet crossed. The younger male clears his throat, and starts to rationalise the situation.

“It’s obvious that we’re going to switch gears since this happened. We all have a curated reputation that we need to protect so that people don’t nose into our business.” He turns to Mikey who is still glaring hard at Izana. “Your brother has a point, you fucked up our plan by not telling anyone what you did-”

“You judging me too, Kisaki?”

“Can you stop being defensive for once Mikey and just listen!” Kisaki scolds, just about done with everyone making things more difficult for him. “I don’t care what you did to her, whatever affection or lust you have for her is a you problem. I just want this situation to be in our favour.”

The statement makes Izana scoff in dismal fashion, but he decides to ask out of curiosity regardless. “And how do you intend to turn this situation around? Cause right now she has leverage over us and any careless move can put us in a tougher spot than we can handle.”

Kisaki turns his attention fully towards Izana again, a knowing look on his face as he asks. “Is Kakucho done searching Mikey’s car?”

‘How did he know?’ Izana blinks, but then catches Hanma smirking and doesn’t bother to ask his impending questions. Kisaki always had a nasty and suspicious habit of continuously tailing him specifically, and usually it doesn’t go over Izana’s radar when it happens, apart from this instance. Which meant someone was being a rat in his group.

He’ll deal with that later.

Mikey raised a brow in confusion as well, opening his mouth to protest the invasion of his privacy when Izana’s phone suddenly rings. He picks it up, attempting to step out to answer it when Kisaki raises his hand to stop him.

“Answer it here.” Kisaki said, ignoring the way Izana looks at him like he has two heads. “and put it on speaker.”

He had no reason to comply, but he wanted to see where Kisaki was going with whatever plan he had. With a wry smile, Izana put the phone down on the table and slid the answer button, putting it on a loudspeaker.

“Did you find anything Kakucho?”

Ever loyal, Kakucho clears his throat and starts to speak, his voice sounding strained over the phone, as if he’s struggling with something. “Yes boss.” He answers, a twinge of nervousness coating his tone. “There’s a dash cam on the mirror and a spy cam underneath the compartment facing the passenger’s seat…”

Mikey grumbles under his breath something about fucking Kakucho up if anything ends up spoilt or missing in his car but Kisaki holds his hand up to his lips and shushes him. Izana continues once he’s sure his brother is done complaining. “And did you confirm the anonymous tip that we got?”

He can hear Kakucho shift uncomfortably, the silence on the other side of the phone drawn out until he finally says. “Boss, it’s too … I don’t think we should use this against her.” He tries to reason. “I think we’re going too far-”

“Perfect.” Kisaki chimes in, now looking at Izana with a satisfied smile. Kakucho is about to ask why Kisaki was there but Izana cuts him off instead. “Bring it back. I’ll explain once you come to the house.”

“Okay boss.”

The phone line dies and Kisaki, fairly confident in his plan, looks at Izana once again. “I’m sure you know where I’m going, right?”

Izana may think Kisaki is a pathetic brat who just happened to be smart, but right now, it’s like the both of them are connected and in tune with their thoughts. The tanned male stretches his lips into a smile, one full of malice and at the same time, glee, his eyes light with mirth when he realises what Kisaki was thinking.

Finally a plan he could follow along with.

“Alright, I’m all ears.”

THE walk back to your dorm was quiet.

By the time you managed to catch a bus after spending the entire day looking for a job and getting back to campus, it was already late in the night. Save for only the street lamps that were beginning to dim, everywhere else was darker than usual.

You had read that there was going to be a lunar eclipse tonight between the hours of 10pm - 00am. The time boldly written on the bus’ digital clock before you got down was 10:45pm, so you already assumed it was the cause of the unnatural darkness tonight.

A long time ago before the world weighed you down, things like this would have made you excited. You loved watching the stars when you were young, trying to check on the papers your father bought to see if there was any space news available. You remember borrowing your immediate elder brother’s binoculars as a makeshift telescope, trying to piece out the stars in the sky or see if you would catch a glimpse of the comet that was said to pass through that week.

Unfortunately, you were young and foolish. Wanting to impress your father, you told him all about your book of constellations that you drew up, detailing the first star that appeared every evening, down to your crazy childish theories about aliens and space.

“Can you show me the book?” your father asked calmly. You should have known it was dangerous for your father to be this calm, but you were too blinded by excitement to think and you gave him the book, a bright smile on your face.

Your smile fell as his large hands ripped your book into shreds, before telling you: “Women don’t dream.”

Maybe that was the day you realised the love you craved from your father will never be given to you. You were so young and impressionable, all you wanted was for him to be proud of you, like he was with his sons. Now, you can’t even look at the stars, the memory leaves a bitter taste in your mouth and you try to shake it off as you continue on the path.

You wondered what grievous sin you’ve committed to be so down on your luck like this. Today had been one disappointment to another

You passed by Emma’s dorm building, a sigh escaping your lips. She told you that Draken wanted to take her out for dinner tonight, which shocked you because friends with benefits - according to what Emma herself told you- don’t go on dates or do lovey dovey stuff with each other, to avoid complicated feelings from budding.

Then again, their relationship is based on the fact that they both have feelings for each other, but Draken was not interested in a relationship.

It was already complicated before it began but at least she's taking your advice and talking to them again.

Your eyes darted up to her window, hoping her lights were on. Whenever she was alone, Emma hated sleeping in the dark. She said it reminded her of the times her mother would lock her and Izana in a dark room whenever she brought her customers in. Anytime she was in a darkened room, she told you she could still hear the sound of her mother moaning and a man grunting. Izana would try his best to distract her, playing games or even stealing an earphone and plugging it to his own so that she would listen to music instead of what was going on.

A frown graced your lips when you saw two bodies from the curtain, one tall figure you recognize as Draken and Emma’s smaller dainty figure perched on him, kissing. You quickly averted your eyes and walked faster, ignoring the unfamiliar pang in your chest. Maybe you’re jealous because you needed your friend’s comfort right now and she wasn’t available. You felt greedy for this, after spending a week with her, you should let her be free.

‘She has her own life to live. And I have mine’ you muttered to yourself as you trudged along the path, slowly dragging your feet. ‘I have to stop being so dependent on her.’

Eventually, your thoughts drift back to your reoccurring dream. Losing your job made you realise that if you didn’t do anything about it, your tiredness would eventually catch up to you and ruin everything else you’ve worked for. With an important test scheduled for tomorrow, you knew you could not afford to take another loss this week. You had to power through your sleep tonight, even if it traumatised you.

‘Maybe I should pretend that I like it. Pretend it’s okay and enjoy it so that I won’t have to wake up.’ You shook your head, cursing as you drew closer to your own dorm building. ‘Oh God, how far I’ve fallen. Look at me trying to enjoy a disgraceful act-’

You paused in your tracks at the sound of a leaf crushing. You quickly turned around, trying to ascertain who could be lurking there behind the bushes. Your palms started sweating, your nerves firing at the thought of being watched.

Silence.

You decided to continue walking, assuming that maybe you were hearing things and there wasn’t anything at all. Nighttime always had a way of making you nervous, especially with all the horrible stories you heard about innocent women being attacked around these times. Besides, looking around for whatever may be lurking was a dumb idea.

You should just get out of here.

Eventually, you make it to your dorm house in record time, a sigh of relief escaping your lips. ‘Maybe I’m being paranoid. But at least I’m safe now.’ You think to yourself as you push the door open, closing it behind you.

Weary from the day’s stress, your body starts to give up on you but you push through, trying your best to just make it to your room. You’re sure you would just collapse on your bed the second you got there and forget about anything else.

You finally make it to your room, about to rummage your bag for the keys when you notice the door was unlocked. ‘Oh? Ami must have come back rather early, since I barely see her until 2am.’

(From here is edited)

But as you reach for the handle, a feeling of dread washes over you, the same one you felt when you were outside. ‘I really need to let this go. There’s no harm waiting for me. It’s just my room.’ You mutter to yourself. Your overthinking has cost you a lot, from your job to your academics and right now, you really need it to stop. Pushing whatever feeling was keeping you away, you walked into the darkened room.

The first thing that greeted you was the stench of some kind of smoke -weed, the kind that Ami liked to use whenever she was in the room. You always hated the smell and you recall telling her to leave the windows open whenever she wanted to smoke. Coughing, you quickly covered your nose and mouth with one hand and reached to turn on the light with another. “Ami, how many times have I told you to open the window whenever you smoke? You know I don’t like the smell-”

Your blood turns to ice the moment light floods the room, your mouth dry as you stare at the man perched on your reading chair, a leg crossed over the other, the weed blunt hanging between his tanned hands. His lips are stretched into a sick grin, showing all his teeth, purple eyes shining with an odd mirth as he glances at you up and down.

Izana Kurokawa.

‘Run’

You don’t need to be told twice, quickly discarding your bag and running towards the direction of the door, only to hit someone hard, standing tall in your way. You look up fearfully to see mismatched eyes, a scar running down his face and flinch backwards in reflex. It’s as if he gazes at you with pity, but quickly switches to a blank stare as he stands between you and the door.

You know him from hanging around Emma a lot in the Tenjiku frat house, Kakucho. He’s always around Izana and only loyal to him for some reason that you don’t know. He doesn’t listen to anyone else, not even Mikey. You realise that he might have been the one that was following you when you were walking home.

Begging him to let you pass would be futile.

“Don’t worry, I’m just here to have a little chat with you. I’m not going to hurt you.” His tone is calm, but it doesn’t bring you any comfort. If Mikey could hurt you without any remorse, then there’s nothing stopping Izana from doing worse to you. “And as much as your backside is as interesting as your face, I prefer talking to someone who is looking at me.”

“I don’t want to talk to you.” The words fly out from your mouth before you even think of a more appropriate response but it doesn’t seem to give him any form of reaction other than a dry laugh.

He scoffed. “I don’t care. Turn around.”

Reluctantly you slowly turn to face him again, your body trembling as your fear filled eyes lock with his. Your heart drops to your stomach when you hear heavy footsteps walk out of the door, shutting it behind you, locks turning and trapping you with Izana.

‘Oh God oh God oh God.’

Your fear doesn’t go unnoticed by the white haired man, and he only chuckles at how stiff you were. Between the two brothers, you know Izana thrives in fear, using it to his advantage and it’s not unfounded. Notwithstanding his backing from Black dragons, Izana had taken Tenjiku from a down and out frat house, to a den of crime that holds power, trickling right into the administration of the university. Even his men know better than to ever get themselves in his bad books, because no one can ever escape him, no matter how much you try to run.

It was only a matter of time until he would make you pay for causing him problems, but you didn’t think he’d come by himself. You felt stupid for thinking he wouldn’t care about you or he’d forget how angry he was at you and leave you alone, especially with Emma still not on speaking terms with them.

He motions with his bunt for you to come closer to him and you comply, taking careful steps until you’re standing right in front of him. He eyes you again with a tepid frown. “When you meet a king, you don’t stand before him, you kneel.”

Kneel. You want to assume he’s not serious but you know better than to question him and go down on your knees, focusing your gaze firmly on your lap. It’s humiliating the way he has you at his mercy, without even moving an inch but it’s better to be compliant than to aggravate him even further by being disobedient.

You’ve learned the hard way what could happen if you resist.

From the corner of your eyes, you watch as Izana puts out his weed blunt on your reading table leaving a sorching mark on the table, before reaching behind his waistband. Your mouth grows dry the second you see the gun, your heart pounding against your chest as he presses the barrel to your head.

‘Oh god.’ You gasp as he presses it further against your head, until you’re sure it would leave an indent. ‘He’s going to kill me. He’s going to kill me…’

“That’s odd,” He murmurs. “Usually, other people would be begging for their lives when met with a gun to their head, but you’re quiet. If not for the way your hands are trembling, I’d think you weren’t scared.”

This time, with a gun pointed at your head, you’re careful with your words. “Y-you said you won’t hurt me.” Your voice shakes with fear but you continue. You know men like Izana, he reminds you of your older brother who ruled the house apart from your father, with fear and control. Sometimes, when you were able to stroke his ego, he’d go easy on you. Maybe that would work on Izana too. “That you want to talk.”

“And what if I changed my mind? Pulled the trigger? That’ll make my life easier, yeah? I won’t have to fight for my sister’s love and affection with you.” 

Your breath hitches in your throat when you hear the safety go off and watch as his finger curls around the trigger. ‘Oh God, he’s going to kill me. He’ll shoot me dead. I-i have to say something- I don’t want to die-’

“I-i trust you not to do it.” You reply, your lips trembling as you struggle not to think of your head scattered into pieces on the floor if he chooses to kill you. “You’re a man of your words.”

There’s another complete silence that engulfs the entire room, until you hear a click that makes you flinch for a split second, waiting for the bullet that would end it all. Instead, it’s him putting the safety back on, and chuckling at your reaction.

“You trust me? How foolish.” He laughs, tracing the gun from your head down to underneath your chin and forcing you to look up at him. You’ve only read about people with empty eyes in stories, but seeing it in person was so terrifying. “Is that why you ended up with Mikey in his car?”

All the blood rushes from your head to the tip of your toes. “H-how do you kn-”

“I have eyes and ears in this school, (name).” You’re sure it’s the first time you’ve heard him call you by your name and despite being in a life or death situation, you couldn’t control the shiver that ran through your spine. “You wanted him to touch you, right?”

“T-that is not what happened!” You suddenly cried out, trying to explain your own side of the story. Of all the people who know your dirty and shameful secret, Izana is the worst pick, just your luck. “It was a mistake! I tried to tell him I didn’t want it but I couldn’t-”

“Ah ah -” Izana cuts you off, tilting your chin higher with the gun. “Don’t lie to me. You must have planned the entire thing to make Mikey look bad”

“No! I wasn’t trying to do anything, I just wanted to talk-”

“Really? Cause Mikey told me an entirely different story-”

“No, no I- didn’t… -”

“You were dangling yourself like a piece of meat for him to fuck and he’s a man, you know. He has urges and it's hard to resist temptation.”

“That’s not true-” your lips start to tremble at his words, tears forming at the corner of your eyes. You didn’t want to be assaulted, you just wanted to talk to him about the Emma issue and you wanted to apologise. “That’s not true-”

“Oh but it is.” He said firmly, now leaning in closer to your face until there’s barely any inches between the two of you. “And now Mikey feels like a piece of shit because he couldn’t stop himself.”

“No-” your voice is small, trying to defend yourself but even you are beginning to doubt your own credibility with how he keeps twisting the narrative around until you begin to actually believe him.

‘No! Don’t let him make you think you’re in the wrong! You know what happened!’

“He even told you to leave but you refused to. You were baiting him to just do something to you so that you can tell everyone how bad Mikey is and make yourself get more sympathy points. Am I wrong?”

“No! I would never do that to Mikey!” You don’t realise your tempo had suddenly gotten high or that tears had started to drip down your face, but Izana did. He doesn’t point it out, staying quiet as you start to shout at him. “I would never bait him into hurting me! I just wanted to make up with him because I felt that I overreacted at the party I swear! And then he touched me in the car -”

“And you never reported him to the school authorities? Why? Did you want to blackmail him for money-”

“Because I love him!”

The words flew out of your mouth before you could even stop yourself from saying them.

Your heart drops as a mischievious glint appears in Izana’s eyes. His smile drops slightly, still maintaining the gun on your chin. “You love him?” He says slowly, testing out the words on his lips. “Love? Mikey?” He looks so deep in thought, like the concept sounds so foreign to him that he almost can’t believe it. His gaze falls back to you again, a quiet scoff emanating from his lips. “You really have no shame, do you?”

Unable to maintain eye contact with him, you break away from his gaze, biting down on your lips to prevent yourself from falling apart. When you don’t respond, Izana takes your silence as an opportunity to keep talking. “If you love him so much, then what’s wrong with what you both did in the car that day? It was what you wanted, wasn't it?”

“Not like that…”

“But you claim to love him.” Izana is calm and cool, while you’re stuttering on your words, making you look like you’re the one who is wrong. Like what you’re saying doesn’t make any sense to begin with and he’s the one saying something of reason. “And yet, you didn’t even notice he wasn’t himself that day. Or did you take advantage of his fragile state of mind?”

“I would NEVER-”

“You would, because you get to be the so-called victim and he gets to be the villain in your own story. Do you really know the implication of your actions?”

“That’s not right.” You don’t even realize how quiet you’ve gotten, your voice full of uncertainity. “I didn’t … it’s not…”

“Shut up.” He cuts you off again with a firm tone, tapping the gun on your chin gently to enunciate his point. “The reason why I haven’t put a bullet through your head as much as I want to is because I love Emma. I love Emma so much I’d kill for her and I’d resist the urge to kill for her. That’s how Sano’s love. That’s true love. That's something you'll never ever experience.”

You stay silent, trying to understand what exactly Izana was calling love. He leaned closer, making you feel even smaller. “If Emma finds out, she’ll think Mikey intentionally hurt you and she will hate him. But I guess that’s what you want, isn’t it?”

“Never. I don’t want her to hate him” your inner voice telling you it’s not your fault, is nothing more than a whisper, the feeling of guilt and shame overtaking you until you’re almost suffocating. “I just want them to be happy…”

“Then you know exactly what you’re meant to do, right?”

Of course you know what to do. Ever since you were child, it’s been drilled into your head. Whenever your brothers hit you a bit too hard or your father went overboard with his belt and you ended up in the hospital, your mother would take you aside to issue a warning that still rings in your head. That had terrible consequences if you refused to follow through with it.

You nod weakly. It really doesn’t matter what is right and wrong when it comes to the Sano’s, but what they want. Izana taps the gun on your chin again, shaking his head. “I need a verbal answer.”

“I won’t tell anybody what happened. Especially not Emma.”

Satisfied, he withdrew his gun from your chin and your face falls onto his lap, unable to support your head any longer. You feel a hand reaching down to pet your head, like you were a dog who had just been tamed by her new owner. The strength to push him off or stand up had left you, feeling drained as the weight of guilt settle down on your shoulders, heavily. You know you shouldn’t believe anything Izana says, but then again he does have a point. Maybe you should have been more receptive of Mikey’s touch or at least be polite about declining him instead of shoving him off and hurting his pride.

You feel so utterly powerless. Despite being wronged, you know there’s nothing you can really do to save yourself. You don’t think you can bear the traumatic experience of being an outlier again.

Mikey. You don’t want to hurt him. You don’t want anyone thinking he’s a bad person over a singular action.

'Maybe it’s not as bad as I think, I did enjoy it mid-way, so it should count as something. Right?'

You feel sick just trying to think about it.

“You know, if you’re this obedient, we can get along just fine.” He hums, breaking the silence as he pets your head gently. You hate yourself right now. How easy it is to do whatever it is that you’re told because disobedience is not an option. “I’m sure you wouldn’t want to know what I’ll do to you if you break your promise.”

“No” your voice is quiet. You feel tired, sick maybe, you don’t know. Maybe it’s the weed he smoked earlier affecting your judgement and reasoning. Or it’s the lack of sleep that has made it difficult for you to think straight or stand up. Either way, you don’t care. “I don’t.”

“Good girl.”

You know he’s mocking you, but you accept it, like you do with every circumstance thrown at you.

Bonus:

  IZANA looks down at your sleeping figure with a curious gaze.

For a moment, he almost pities you. Despite the faint glow of the room lighting, he can see the dark circles underneath your eyes and how stressed you look. For someone who is actively working to pay her fees while sustaining herself with no one caring for her, it must be hard being abandoned by society.

He can see why Emma picked you to be her friend, she always had a trait of picking up stray animals who had no one because she wanted something to protect. It’s no different with you, the way she’s so fiercely loyal to you and why she wanted you to be accepted by their family. No wonder she was hurt when you were vehemently rejected by them.

If he had a conscience, he’d feel bad for you. You love Mikey, of all people, someone who only saw you as a nuisance and to push the blame of his actions onto. All those times Mikey was cruel to you must have hurt the most because you truly cared about what he thinks about you.

He’s careful when he lifts your head from his lap, not wanting to wake you up. He puts your head on the chair and turns to leave, already overstaying his welcome. He’s done the thing he was supposed to, ensuring you stayed quiet about Mikey’s actions and there’s no need for him to be here any longer.

As he walked to the door, his mind goes back to you. In a way, you and him were similar. All alone, unwanted, with nobody in the world to care about you, cold, uncaring parents who didn’t think twice in terms of abandoning you both. The only difference between you and him is that he grew a backbone and you haven’t. You’re like a kicked dog who continues to stay on the ground to get kicked, in hopes the person kicking you stops eventually.

As long as you stay on the ground, people like him will keep kicking you.

He knocks loudly on the door and the locks turn. Kakucho opens it for him, peering inside with a worried gaze, his eyes settling on your body slumped over a chair.

“Did you hit -”

“I didn’t touch her.” Izana snaps at the taller male, stepping out of the room properly. “She’s fine, physically at least. Emotionally she’s a mess. But that’s Mikey’s problem to fix.”

“Huh?”

It wouldn’t hurt to tell Kakucho your little secret.  “Apparently (name)’s in love with my dear brother Mikey so she’s keeping quiet what he did to her.” a cruel smile stretches across his face. “How pathetic.”

Kakucho frowns at Izana’s statement, but as usual he doesn’t say anything in response. Instead, his eye darts back to your form again, taking a good look at you, his eyes softening. Ever the gentleman.

“She shouldn’t really stay like that Izana, she’ll get a stiff neck-”

“Kakucho.”

That was enough to end the conversation.

special thanks to: (please turn on your mentions in 'settings' before filling the form.): @officiallyjaehyuns @haikyuusboringassmanager @ilybbg @merrymerrykiss @cockonoi @Rindou24689 @short-cxke @kokoch4n3l @GenAwi @ryuguji-sana @nuyoo @reiners-milkbiddies @kiwixpi @gh0stgirl333 @brisssaaa009 @fushiqruo @kawaiikoalagarden @damidamimongalam @raven-nevra @ilovetwodmen @kodzubaby @straightfromheaven @manchie55 @pikibee @tomeyano @matchamilktea-05 @tenjikusstuff4 @m0onz1 @hapikiou @rainnyzz @Lovelyartistz @lik0 @maraya-007 @thisismarisaaa @reeyy0-2 @littlemisspropaganda @cherie026

[endless-ineffabilities]

chemical override (12)

Ewan Mitchell x actress!reader

a/n: see that up there? He's a good fella. He's not going to fumble this time.

series masterlist ▪︎ main masterlist

The Mallorca getaway continues. Ewan takes on a new approach when it comes to winning you back. With flirty dares and rising tensions, will you be any closer to making a choice?

The news barely needed any time to settle. 

It spread like wildfire, from those with professional connections in Hollywood to casual celebrity gossip enjoyers. In less than an hour after the first batch of headlines broke out, it was clear—Bruce Haversham is now an industry pariah. 

It was yesterday when Ewan rejoined the group by the pool, a strange look in his eyes. Before Phia could finish asking if something was wrong, Freddie exclaimed a very surprised, “What the fuck?” as he scanned his phone, and the rest was history. 

The following morning, the villa gradually wakes to meet the sunrise. 

The place screams simple luxury, with the interiors painted in a standard white and cyan, lush potted plants stretching tall in the corners. There are eight bedrooms and four full bathrooms, so your large group split up as desired. 

You’re sharing a room with Phia and Liv, which means that Phia has gladly taken the role of being your personal alarm clock. 

You are already awake when you feel her breathing in your ear. You crack open an eye and see her leaning over your bed, a wide grin stretched across her lips. “Day three!” she squeals. “Rise and shiiiine. Buenos dias!”

You groan halfheartedly. It’s impossible to be grumpy even in this hour when Phia acts like it’s going to be the best day ever. Like the day before that. And the day before. And pretty much every day since you’ve met her. 

“What time is it?” you croak, rubbing sleep from your eyes.

“6:30,” she happily chirps. “It’s our turn to make breakfast.”

Some of the boys volunteered to be the chefs yesterday, and the highlights were Freddie and Matt’s spaghetti bolognese, and Ewan’s sparkling sangria.

You remember telling Emma in the late afternoon that you’ve never tried sangria and you’ve always wanted to, but surely that’s not the reason why Ewan chose to make that drink for dinner. But you knew he had been lounging around, always within sight of you. 

He almost never stays far from you. 

When you make your way into the kitchen, most of the girls are already busy. Pots and pans hiss and smoke on the stove, filling the air with the scent of cooking.

“We bought ingredients for pancakes, right?” you ask, shuffling through the cupboards. 

“Of course we did,” Liv replies, as she slices and carefully arranges fruits on a platter. 

“Stacks of pancakes coming right up!” you say, mustering some of Phia’s early morning enthusiasm. 

“Oh, I could kiss you,” Liv preens. 

A few minutes into your process, you hear gasps in the room. You don’t turn right away, knowing that with your group, it could be anything. From something as simple as juice spilling, or Fabien suddenly going bald. A flock of actors will be dramatic. 

But someone barks out, “Ewan! You’re not supposed to be in the kitchen.”

“Let us girls cook in peace. You’ll get your turn again tomorrow,” Phia scolds. 

Your breath hitches as you suddenly feel someone standing right behind you. “Good morning, darling,” Ewan’s voice rumbles softly, and you turn to find that he has moved closer, his hand propped on the kitchen counter by your waist. “Are you making pancakes? I’d love to help.”

“Do you want his help?” Bethany questions you plainly.

Ewan shuffles to your side, casually leaning against the counter as he looks at you, his brows raised as he bites his lip in a cheeky manner that sends your pulse skittering. 

“I… I wouldn’t mind,” you stammer, and he turns to the rest of the girls to give them a what-can-you-do shrug.

“Fine,” Phia relents with a knowing smile, throwing you a wink that is impossible to miss. 

Ewan proves to be a good sous chef, taking note of your remarks, and sticking to the steps you laid out. To be fair, you don’t even have to say much, the both of you falling right into a comfortable rhythm. He hands you the right ingredients without missing a beat. The wide kitchen is filled with the soothing noises of cooking and soft chatter, but your focus is zeroed in on the effortless system that you have going with Ewan. 

It’s simple. It’s calm and domestic. It reminds you of a time long gone, when you were dating in LA, spending nearly every waking moment with each other. Before everything got so… complicated.

He stands by while you ladle some pancake batter onto the griddle. He’s there, but you miss him.

“You okay, darling?” he ducks his head so only you can hear. “Did you not sleep well?”

You find concern etched in his features. “Yeah, I’m okay. Just… thinking, I guess.”

“Oh, yeah? What’s going on in that beautiful head of yours?”

Ewan knows you well, so does he know that you’re worried about his nonchalance at what happened to Bruce? The PR arrangement is effectively scrapped, which means that the biggest hurdle that once stood between you and him is no more. 

He’s always been so forward and upfront about his feelings, but why does it feel like nothing has happened? Like nothing has changed? 

Perhaps the distance that you enforced has become too wide to manage, and he has lost interest? His brow furrows when you don’t answer, and his hand gently squeezes above your elbow. “Hey,” he whispers, trying to catch your attention, “what’s wrong, darling?”

Okay. Maybe he hasn’t completely lost interest. But still. 

“Nothing,” you shake your head. “But, how are you doing? With all the drama surrounding Bruce and all that?”

“Well, he’s out of the project. And we’re all glad for it.”

“That’s good.” You flip a pancake too late, slightly burning one side.

You rock back on your heels as you wait, and you turn to find Ewan watching you with an unreadable look in his eyes, his lips curling in that signature Ewan way that can mean everything and nothing at all. 

“What?” you finally ask. 

“Nothing,” he shakes his head, mirroring your tone from earlier, one that fails to mask the thoughts swirling in his mind. “I appreciate your concern, my love. Thank you for asking.”

“No problem,” you say softly, clearing your throat to be heard better. “I’m happy you’re done with that asshole and his unfair demands.”

“Yeah,” he nods. His face is so close to yours that you can spot the tiny flecks of yellow in his blue eyes. His eyes dart to the side, then back to you. “Darling?”

“Mmm?”

“I know I’m just your humble assistant—” He clutches his chest in a playful gesture, smirking knowingly. “—but I think that pancake has turned to stone.”

“Oh, shit!” You hurriedly take it out of the griddle, but he’s right. Even its sides are charcoal-coloured. You groan at your shoddy work, putting it aside to be tossed to the bin later, as Ewan—the cheeky bugger—laughs openly at your distress. 

“Alright, alright.” You roll your eyes at him. You should be annoyed, but how can you, when this moment feels like a vivid snapshot of a better time? 

You can pretend that you don’t care for it, but what’s the point? Even after all this time, and everything you’ve been through together, and apart. 

Always. 

“Ewan,” you say, trying to keep a straight face, and failing, “let’s just keep going, okay? And no more accidents. We’re not going to poison everybody.”

“It wasn’t my fault.”

“Yes, it was.”

“How so?”

“You were… being distracting.”

He tilts his head, and stares at you so intensely that you have to turn back to the griddle. As you should, anyway. Oh, if smugness had a face… 

The stack becomes higher, then multiplies into two, three… The whole time, the skip in your heartbeat becomes more and more impossible to ignore. Once again, you’re that newbie actress, that girl with a crush, who had to spend an entire day doing press with the Ewan Mitchell. 

Your Ewan, who can level you with just a glance. 

“Okay,” you exhale. “Just a few more, then we’re done. And please—quit looking at me.”

“What?” Ewan shifts away, as if he hadn’t just spent the last ten minutes with his eyes glued to you for no particular reason. “I can’t look at you? You know I would do anything for you, darling, but that’s kind of an impossible request.”

“Oh my god,” Phia's voice inserts itself in the moment, causing you and Ewan to turn around sharply. It is only then that you notice that everyone has gone out to the patio, judging by the source of the ruckus. 

Phia stands there, cool as a cucumber with a glass of juice in one hand, wagging her eyebrows when you make eye contact. “Ewan… just…ugh.”

“What?” Ewan snorts at her faux frustration.

She shakes her head for a few seconds, before landing on, “You’re impossible. I can’t deal with you two. I just can’t.” She then walks away, only pausing briefly to remark, “At least those bloody pancakes were made with love.”

Ewan begins arranging the pancakes to take out to the dining area in the patio, while you tidy up the mess. It’s not long before the rest of the lads come thundering down the stairs, still disheveled and groggy from sleep. 

“Time for breakfast,” Ewan remarks as you finish your work, his hand drifting to the small of your back, sending warmth radiating through your skin.

Inevitably, you’re once again caught up in a moment where he is all there is, and you wish he would just make some comment on where things stand between the two of you. Some reassurance, something more than flirtatious remarks and fleeting touches. 

But a new arrival in the kitchen melts the moment away.

“Good morning.” It’s Matt, leaning casually against the wall. 

Your face heats up in shame. You have been so preoccupied with Ewan and the state of your relationship with him, that you forgot to factor in Matty. The sweetheart you’re technically dating, who has been nothing but good to you.

He walks over, planting a quick kiss on your cheek, his hand resting on the small of your back, mirroring where Ewan’s had been moments before.

“Smells good in here,” Matt says, his voice easy. “You two make a good team in the kitchen, huh?”

Ewan’s smile tightens, his hands slipping into his pockets. “Just trying to keep up, mate. You know how it is.”

“Well, I’m looking forward to those pancakes.” Matt winks at you, completely oblivious to the storm brewing in your mind, then heads toward the patio, leaving you and Ewan standing awkwardly in the kitchen.

Ewan clears his throat, glancing at you with a look you can’t quite decipher, but it gets your heart racing all the same. “We should—” he gestures toward the pancakes, his voice softer now. “We should take these out.” 

You nod, meeting his eyes. “We should.”

He stands still, brows furrowing for a moment as he continues to gaze at you, before the muscles in his face release their tension. His eyes soften, and his lips pull into a gentle smile. “Hmm.” He hums to himself, like he has realised something. 

“What is it?” Your curiosity gets the better of you.

“I always thought you look your best in the mornings, when your hair’s a bit mussed, and you’re fresh from sleep, and you’re just… you.”

“Oh.”

“But then again,” he says, as he takes the pancakes, balancing one full plate in each hand, “When are you not beautiful, darling?” He smiles sweetly, before turning on his heel and walking away.

A long moment passes before your heart starts working again. 

The late afternoon sun casts a golden glow over the villa, and everyone is scattered on the property. You’re sitting with Liv, Bella, and Phoebe by the pool, sipping on fresh juice and exchanging stories. 

Then, from the entrance, you hear the unmistakable sound of wheels crunching over gravel, followed by the final rev of a car engine. The rest of the guests have arrived. 

It’s Luke who bounds out first, his arms thrown wide as he hollers, “The party’s here, baby!”

“Lad!” Phia calls out, running up to greet him with a warm hug, “You’re late, as usual.”

“Fashionably late,” he grins, patting her back and winking at you as he catches your eye.

Harry and Elliott follow close behind, totally at ease, pulling their suitcases and nodding toward the group. Behind them is Milly, who practically jumps out of the car. She’s all smiles, her bubbly personality lighting up the space in an instant. She hugs everyone in quick succession, her laughter ringing out as she quickly finds something to tease Fabien about.

But it’s the last arrival that makes your heart plummet.

Louise steps out of the SUV, dressed casually but effortlessly put together, her blonde hair cascading down her shoulders. Louise, Luke and Eliott’s cousin who was spotted with Ewan ages ago, just before you and him began dating. It was the usual paparazzi blunder, and Ewan profusely swore that nothing actually happened, with the twins quick to vouch for him. 

But she glances around, her eyes scanning the villa before landing on Ewan, who stands just a few away, watching quietly. She makes a beeline for him, leaning in for a quick, friendly kiss on the cheek. “Hey, Ewan. Miss me?”

Your chest tightens.

Ewan’s smile is polite and restrained, but it doesn’t escape your notice how he subtly steps back, keeping a respectful distance between them. “Good to see you, Lou,” he greets evenly, though his gaze flickers toward you for the briefest of moments. It’s subtle—no one else would notice—but you do. 

“Why is it so bloody hot out here?” Elliott exclaims, catching your attention. 

As everyone catches up with each other, the space is filled with chatter and laughter. But despite the chaos, your attention keeps getting pulled back to Ewan and Louise. She’s standing close to him, not too close, but enough that it feels like a deliberate choice on her part. Her smile is bright, and her hand occasionally brushes his arm when she laughs.

Which she does too often. Ewan’s a witty guy and all, but what could there be to laugh wildly about every ten seconds? 

You can’t help the pang of jealousy that twists in your gut. She looks like someone who would have Instagram, and judging by the way she ogles your boyfr—

By the way she ogles Ewan, she would be aware of his doings on that godforsaken app. She would have definitely seen—no, stalked—his profile back when it was still up, seeing his tributes to you. 

Wasn’t this supposed to be a holiday? You tell yourself to relax your nerves, which are currently set on edge. 

Matt appears at your side, wrapping an arm around your waist, as he plants a soft kiss on your temple. “You okay?” he asks, his voice enough to soothe you for a while. 

“I’m good,” you nod, forcing a smile. 

Ewan catches your gaze, before his eyes drop down to Matt’s arm around you. The smallest sense of victory washes over you as his jaw clenches in obvious irritation. But it’s fleeting, gone too soon, when he looks away and slips back into conversation with Louise. 

The rest of the arrivals gather their bags and start making their way inside, talking about what to do for dinner, and where to go tonight.

The party has just begun. 

The hour is late when the group gradually comes together in a circle, much like kids forming around a campfire. Fabien and Bella balance large plastic bowls of snacks in each arm. Meanwhile, Rhys and Tom stagger into the scene, with a full load of six-packs and wine bottles. The rest of the group follow suit, trickling in with a chorus of laughter and shared whispers. 

The circle tightens, everyone jostling for a seat, with some sprawled on blankets, while others perch on low adirondack chairs. It’s chaotic, but it’s the kind of chaos Ewan doesn’t mind, with the cast being like family to him. 

He feels your presence like a magnet, drawing him in despite everything going on. The moment you step into the circle, his heart stumbles. As it always does, without fail. 

You’re wearing a long and flowy, green summer dress, with your hair delicately pulled away from your face. It’s simple, effortless, but Ewan thinks you’re the prettiest person in every room. 

You hesitate, and Ewan’s hand moves on instinct—stretching out to the space next to him on the blanket, a silent offer. For a split second, he sees you acquiesce, taking a half-step toward him.

But just as you begin to shift in his direction, before you can make a move, Matt reaches out from his spot at the edge of the circle, snatching your wrist like it’s the most natural thing in the world. His laugh is low and teasing as he effortlessly pulls you onto his lap, his arms wrapping around you in a warm embrace, like he owns you. 

Ewan takes several deep breaths, trying to fight the surge of jealousy rising up a tidal wave. He tries to be patient, to play this right. But watching Matt hold you like that, hearing him call you my love in that careless, confident way—it’s almost enough to make Ewan snap, pull you aside, and beg for things to go back to the way they were.

When he had you, and you had him, in every sense of the word. Back in LA, when being in love was enough. 

Instead, Ewan leans back, forcing himself to look relaxed. But his eyes remain locked on you. When Matt’s fingers trace along your arm, you steal another glance at Ewan, like you’re checking and wondering if he’ll say something, do something. 

But he won’t. Not yet. Not until you decide. 

Ewan has been patient because he has to be. Things have to go right, because he wants you for good, not just for now. So he lets it happen; he lets you keep pretending. But he makes sure that you know he’s there, watching you, waiting for you. 

Rhys pops open another beer, tossing one to Tom, who nearly fumbles it. Laughter breaks out across the group, as everyone settles into their places. 

For all the commotion, all Ewan sees is you. 

Fabien sits to his left and hands him a beer. Suddenly, Louise drops into the empty spot beside him. 

“Hey, stranger,” she says, her voice playful as she nudges Ewan’s arm. “I barely saw you all afternoon. You avoiding me or something?” She’s got that look in her eyes, and he knows exactly what she’s doing. Now, with Matt monopolising your attention, she’s moving in.

“Course not,” Ewan replies casually. 

“You’ve been quiet tonight,” she continues, smiling sweetly.

“Just taking it all in,” he says, keeping his voice neutral. He feels the weight of your gaze from across the circle, but he stops himself from looking at you. 

“Taking it all in, huh?” she laughs softly. “Well—handsome—if you don’t mind, could you pass me a beer?”

Her hand brushes his as he passes her a bottle, and he catches your reaction in his peripheral vision. Your body stiffens slightly, your smile faltering for a split second before you force it back into place. But Ewan knows you too well. You’re not okay with this.

And that gives him just the slightest bit of satisfaction. 

The circle carries on drinking, throwing quips, and even pillows, with Elliott throwing the cushion by his arse to Freddie after a particularly passionate round of banter. Then it’s time to play a game, brought on by the kind of reckless energy that results when everyone has had a little too much to drink.

“Alright, you lot,” Phoebe says, dragging over two makeshift bowls of rolled-up pieces of paper—one for truths and one for dares—the girls’ project for the afternoon. She places it haphazardly in the centre of the circle. “Rules are simple: spin the bottle, pick a truth or dare from the bowl. No wimping out, no lame excuses.”

Matt chuckles, adjusting you slightly in his lap, his arm still casually draped over your thighs as you sit sideways on the chair, your feet propped on the armrest. You’ve been nursing the same glass of wine for a while now, but Ewan can tell by the glint in your eyes that it’s starting to hit you. 

It’s hitting him too.

The bottle spins wildly, its glossy surface catching the firelight as it circles through the group. 

Matt is up first. The bottle stops, pointing at him like it was meant to.

“Truth,” he says, his voice confident, his smirk ever-present as he reaches out to pull from the bowl. He reads aloud, “Who has the best hair?”

Tom is quick to warn, “And it can’t be the girl in your lap! No brownie points for trying to get lucky, mate.”

Matt doesn’t miss a beat. He leans forward, that cocky grin still in place. “Oh, I’m already lucky,” he says, earning oohs and ahhs from the group. You blush, but there’s a cautious edge to your smile, and Ewan can tell you’re wondering how he’s taking all this.

He pretends not to care.

“Oh, come on, Matty!” Bella shouts. “Pick someone.”

Matt surveys the group, dragging it out like he’s milking the moment. His eyes finally land on Olivia, who’s been watching him like a hawk, and he says, “Alright, Miss Cooke has the best hair. Hands down.”

“Damn right I do,” Olivia says, shaking her dark curls with a dramatic flourish, and the group erupts into more laughter. 

The bottle spins again. This time it lands on Ewan. 

“Dare,” he says, trying to avoid the inevitable where he plays it safe and picks truth, but then gets egged on the alternative. They would push the quiet, shy guy to let loose. It is his birthday getaway after all. 

He fishes a slip from the dare bowl, and as he almost can’t believe the words scrawled on the paper. Oh fuck.

“Well, what does it say?” Emma asks.

Ewan swallows nervously. “Uhhh, well, it says kiss the person to your right.”

To his right is Louise.

Of course it’s bloody Louise. He should have picked truth. Why did he have to choose now as an exercise of confidence? Why? 

He can’t help but glance at you on instinct, but your expression is unreadable. 

Louise, for her part, is already leaning in, that smirk of hers so smug it makes Ewan’s teeth clench. Everyone’s watching. There’s no way out of this. He can feel Matt’s eyes drilling into the back of his skull, like he’s waiting for him to mess up. 

Ewan leans in, pressing a light kiss to Louise’s lips—meant to be barely more than a brush, but she pushes forward, making it last longer than he would like. The heat of her lips lingers when he pulls back in a flash. His ears ring with enthusiastic catcalls from the group.

He clears his throat uncomfortably, and he can’t bear to look at you this time.

Before anyone can say anything, the bottle is spinning again. 

It lands on you. 

“Dare,” you say, your voice just a bit too steady. When you’ve chosen, you dramatically read aloud, “Kiss… the person on your left.”

And it’s Freddie.

The second you realise who it is, there is the tiniest flicker of hesitation in your expression.

Freddie raises his eyebrows, smirking like the cheeky bastard he is, leaning back on his elbows as if he’s some kind of prize. “Well, well, well…” he teases, making a big show of puckering his lips. “Happy birthday to me.”

Everyone’s laughing and spurring you on, the group feeding off the chaotic energy of the night. So you unperch yourself from Matt’s lap, lean over the side of the chair, and kiss Freddie. 

It’s quick, almost as if you want it over before anyone can really react, but Freddie leans into it, his hand cupping the back of your neck. Ewan’s stomach twists as he watches, and he knows he shouldn’t care so much. It’s just a bloody game, it doesn’t mean anything. 

But it hits him harder than he wants to admit.

Freddie—being the showman that he is—makes a big deal of it, making an exaggerated gesture as if you’d left him breathless. “I think I’m in love,” he jokes, throwing a wink in Matt’s direction. 

Ewan downs the rest of his beer, the bitterness coating his throat, but it does nothing to quench the fire building in his chest. The jealousy gnaws at him, and he hopes to all that is holy that you don’t have to kiss anyone else for the game. Unless it’s him.

Then it won’t just be a friendly peck. It won’t just last two seconds. He will kiss you in front of everyone, claiming you, like his life depends on it. 

And that won’t just be on the booze. 

The game goes on, but he barely registers the next few rounds. Louise shifts closer to him, her hand casually resting on his knee. She leans in, her breath hot against his ear as she says, “I didn’t mind that kiss, you know.”

He doesn’t respond right away, too caught up in the sight of you laughing at something Matt says to Freddie. You look happy, but it’s all wrong. That laugh used to be Ewan’s.

“Still taking it all in?” Louise asks, her voice dripping with suggestion.

“Something like that,” Ewan sharply responds. Either she hasn’t yet gotten the hint that he’s not interested, or she has and simply doesn’t care, because she asks him another question, squeezing his knee.

And he lets her. Because what else can he do?

The night has a pulse of its own. It starts off slow, a lazy hum of conversations, but soon escalates into something wilder.

It’s hard not to feel electricity thrumming under your skin, not only from the alcohol, but from every look Ewan throws at you across the circle, watching as Matt’s arms stay anchored around you.

Ever since the news about Bruce came out, Matt has been noticeably more bold and doting. It's as if the shift in your relationship with Ewan has sparked something in him – his romantic gestures more frequent, his touch lingering just a bit longer. Where he once might have hung back, now he openly claims your attention, as though daring anyone to challenge his place in your world. 

"Looks like you’re sitting here tonight, my love," Matt had whispered low in your ear, when he pulled you onto his lap, his breath warm and smelling of whiskey against your skin. 

The night spirals even further when a game is proposed. Phia, Bella, and Phoebe had been the ones to come up with the prompts for truth or dare, so you couldn’t have predicted what follows. 

When Matt is made to choose someone else for his question, the possessive way with which he murmurs, “Oh, I’m already lucky,” sends a flush to your cheeks. You notice that Ewan is under tension when you meet his gaze, judging by the stiffness of his shoulders and the subtle tick of his jaw.

Next, it’s Ewan’s turn. You’re mildly surprised when he chooses dare, with that brazen look on his face. You wait eagerly, to see what tricks he has up his sleeve, but your heart plummets when he reads his prompt. 

He has to kiss the person on his right, which conveniently happens to be Louise. She is instantly giddy, grinning like she won the lottery. She’s been eyeing him all night, leaning in a little too close for your liking.

Ewan hesitates, just for a second, his eyes flickering over to you as if to ask permission. You don’t move a muscle, your breath caught in your throat when he finally leans in to give Louise a kiss. 

Damn if it doesn’t feel like a punch to your gut. The group erupts into cheers, and you play along, even though jealousy rises like bile in your throat. 

The bottle spins again, and time seems to slow. When it finally comes to rest, it’s pointing right at you. 

You’re then prompted to kiss the person on your left—Freddie. 

His flawless grin eases your nerves, and keeps you from worrying about how Ewan’s eyes flash with something territorial. The kiss is over as soon as it started, but everyone reacts as if they just witnessed a full-on makeout session.

The game moves on, more dares, more truths, the atmosphere becoming more unhinged with every spin of the bottle. Tom has to shotgun a beer in under ten seconds, which he does to wild applause. Emma serenades their closest friend in the circle, which just so happens to be Liv. Bella is asked who her celebrity crush is, and she gives her boyfriend Fabien as the answer, who is a celebrity after all. 

Then the bottle lands on you again.

“Dare,” you say, the word slipping out before you can second-guess it. You pull out a slip from the bowl, reading, “Call up an admirer, someone famous who’s asked you out.”

The group hums among themselves, looking at you questioningly. 

“Well,” you say after a few seconds, your heart racing. “I guess… there’s… Glen?”

There are some gasps, some woohoos, and you feel Matt shift beside you, clearing his throat to ask, “Glen Powell?” Ewan, meanwhile, sits a little straighter across the circle. He knows this already. This was in August of last year, when both of you were in LA. You got a referral to join the notorious Alo gym, where you linked up with Tate Mcrae, Jake Shane, and Glen, and they became your workout crew. 

Glen easily caught your eye, of course, as he does with anyone. But you turned him down because of Ewan. You remained friends, and your little Alo crew still regularly catches up on a group chat, which is brilliantly called Jake’s Shakes. 

“Oh, Glen Powell,” Bethany squeals. “You have to call him!”

You fumble for your phone, the glare of the screen hurting your eyes briefly. You feel a bit woozy, but maybe it’s just the pressure mounting as everyone’s eyes bore into you. 

With shaky fingers, you scroll through your contacts, finding Glen’s number. There’s a second of hesitation, and then you hit call, turning on the speaker option.

You could practically hear a pin drop, as the group is silent for the first time throughout the night.

The phone rings just thrice before he answers. 

“Hey there,” Glen’s voice is warm and playful on the other end of the line.

“Hi, Glen,” you say, feeling a mix of excitement and nerves. “How are you doing?”

“Would you believe me if I said I’m just sitting here waiting for a call from you?”

The group erupts into hushed laughter, and you try to suppress a nervous giggle. “No actually,” you say, “I find that very hard to believe.”

“Well, believe it, gorgeous,” he replies smoothly, “When are we gonna see you back in LA?”

“I don’t know, but I might have work out there soon,” you say honestly, falling into the rhythm of conversation. “Are you still helping Jake through his mini earthquakes?”

“Oh, you bet. But I’m glad you’re coming here soon. Just say the word, and I’ll have our first date planned to perfection.”

The whole circle fails to stifle their laughter, shocked expressions abound as the call turns suggestive. Your heart skips a beat, and you decide that it’s best to break it to him then. “Glen, so, uh, I’m playing truth or dare with the cast, and I got dared to call up an admirer…”

“Oh?” Glen’s chuckle is confident, unfazed. “Well, I’m flattered. I gotta say you called the right person. Good call, sweetheart.”

“Yeah, everyone seems to agree,” you say, keeping the mood light, but Matt shifts behind you, leaning forward as if to intervene. Before you can say another word, he gently reaches over and takes the phone from your hand, his smile still intact but icy. 

“Hey, Glen, it’s Matt here,” Matt says smoothly, “Thanks for humouring us, mate. We’ve just had a couple of drinks out here, you know how it is.”

“Hey, man,” Glen replies, unaware of your connection with the guy he’s speaking to. “Yeah, no problem. Hope you’re all having a great time.”

“Thanks, but you know, we’re plenty occupied so… no need to make too many plans just yet.”

Glen just laughs on the other end. “Well, when she’s ready, I’ll be more than happy to make sure she’s treated right.”

Matt, to his credit, sounds genuinely amused when he replies, “I’m sure… but I think we’ve got that covered here.”

You see Ewan’s calm exterior cracking as he silently watches the scene unfold. 

“Oh, really? Well, sounds like I’m up against some tough competition,” Glen jokes, his sweet disposition unshakeable. 

“So, mate,” Ewan says loudly, his teasing drawl heard across the group, “Do you always plan dates with people who are taken?”

The group bursts into surprised laughter, and Freddie even clutches your arm in his glee. There’s a brewing excitement as the game takes on a new life. It’s like watching a fuse slowly burn toward an explosion.

On the other end, Glen pauses for a moment, probably trying to figure out what the hell is happening. “Well, you know, man, I just like to be prepared. Wait, who am I talking to now? Is this Ewan… Mitchell?”

“Yeah,” Ewan confirms, relaxing a little. Fabien wraps an arm around his shoulders to get him to ease up.

Glen responds, still directed at Ewan, “She talked about you a lot, you know. I wouldn’t be worried if I were you, man.”

Tom hollers in satisfaction for Ewan, “There you go, Ewaaan! I bet that made his entire week.”

It’s then that Matt decides to end the call. “Thanks for the call, Glen. We’ll let you get back to your day, yeah?”

“Alright,” Glen says, addressing everyone this time. “Have a great night, you guys!”

The call drops. 

“Wow,” Milly remarks, “girl, I wish I had Glen Powell on my speed dial.”

“Yeah, that was fun,” Phoebe agrees, her eyes flicking between Matt and Ewan, clearly enjoying the show.

The game rolls on, laughter growing impossibly louder, voice slurring with alcohol. Louise remains glued to Ewan’s side, leaning just enough that it’s impossible not to notice. Matt doesn’t let you go for a second, his hand always on you—either resting on your leg or wrapped snugly around your waist. 

The group branches out when the game eventually winds down, scattering across the courtyard. Some head toward the pool, others to the bar on the patio, and the music keeps getting higher in volume. Drinks are passed around freely, conversations blur into one another, and the entire scene glows under soft lights. 

At one point, you’re pulled aside by Phia, as she demands that you settle a debate between her and Milly. Matt becomes distracted, bickering with Fabien and Harry by the pool. 

Then, out of nowhere, Ewan materialises by your side, his hand closing gently but firmly around your wrist. His touch sends a jolt through you, and in an instant, he’s pulling you away from the girls, who are way too drunk to even realise. 

He leads to the side of the villa, and the music fades into the background as you find yourself in a more secluded spot. 

Ewan doesn’t wait for you to speak, pressing you against the wall, and taking your lips in a wet, sloppy kiss. 

And everything else falls away. The commotion nothing but a distant echo, the truths and dares something from a forgotten dream. It’s just you and him. 

When he finally pulls back, his forehead rests against yours, and you’re both breathing heavily. He keeps his eyes closed for a moment, and there’s an innocence in the gesture. A sense of intimacy that pulls at your heartstrings and makes you fall in love with him all over again. 

Then, his voice is a rough whisper. “I love you, baby,” he slurs slightly, the alcohol clearly affecting his speech.

“Ewan, you’re drunk,” you say softly, trying to gauge the sincerity behind his words. 

“Yeah, maybe,” he admits, a lopsided grin spreading across his face. “But that doesn’t change how I feel. I love you, I always have. I mean, if that wasn’t fucking obvious already.”

Your hand reaches up to caress the side of his face, and he leans into your touch. His lips find the centre of your palm, pressing a warm, lingering kiss there. Time slows down just for the two of you.

“I’m serious,” he continues, his voice quieter, more vulnerable. “I’ve messed up before. I know that. But I want to do this right. I want you… for good.”

“Ewan…” you start, but he cuts you off. 

“I’ll wait for you,” he promises. “Even if you have… him. Even if it drives me crazy… I’ll wait. I want you to choose me.”

Ewan lays it all bare, giving you the choice, letting you wield the power. All you can do is stand there, but he seems to understand your silence. He just smiles—a tired, bittersweet smile that holds everything left unsaid. 

“I’m here,” he whispers. “And I love you.”

He turns, walking back in the direction of the courtyard, leaving you breathless and overwhelmed. 

The next day, Matt enjoys the twilight hour on the patio, his hands curled around a warm cup of tea. Some of the group, including you and Ewan, ventured out into town for the day. 

The thought of you out there with Ewan gnaws at him, but he does his best to keep calm. 

Liv sits across from him, her own cup in hand. She’s been quietly listening for most of their conversation, but eventually, she turns solemn. 

“You know,” she says, leaning back in her chair. “I’ve noticed the way things are with you three. It’s hard not to.”

Matt lets out a breath. Should he act oblivious or just face it head on? “What do you mean?”

Liv gives him a look, cutting past the pretence. "Don’t play dumb, Matthew. You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

Matt contemplates brushing it off, deflecting like he usually does. But there’s no point in pretending with Liv. She’s been his friend too long for that. 

“It’s complicated, Liv,” he admits, his voice quieter than he intended. “I know there's something between them, there always has been. But I… I don’t want to lose her.”

Liv leans forward, her expression softening. “You won’t lose her, Matt. Not if you don’t want to.”

He laughs, but there’s no humour in it. “That’s easy to say. Ewan’s not exactly giving her much reason to stay away.”

“True,” Liv agrees, giving him a sympathetic smile, “but that doesn’t mean you’re out of the game. Look, I’ve known you for years, and I’ve known her for a while now too. She cares about you, Matt. And if you want to keep her, you’ve got to fight for her.”

“How? How do I compete? They have history, Liv. It’s not something I can wish away.”

“You’re not trying to compete, mate. You’re not Ewan, and you don’t need to be. But if you want to keep her, you need to remind her why. Woo her properly. Don’t wait around, hoping she’ll choose you by default. Give her a reason to.”

Matt considers her words carefully. “And how am I supposed to do that? Woo her properly with him in the mix?”

Liv’s eyes light up with a mischievous glint. “Leave that to me. I’ll help you.”

“You’re going to help me win her over?”

Liv shrugs, her smile widening. “Why not? You’re my friend, and you know, this could be fun.”

Matt wasn’t expecting Liv to offer her help. But now that she has, the idea of having someone in his corner, guiding him, feels like a lifeline.

As the sun sinks lower behind the hills, casting the patio in a dusky glow, he feels a glimmer of hope start to take root. For now, all he can do is wait. 

But when the time comes, he’ll be ready. 

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Some notes in the margins...

This chapter is late to the party, I know. But hey, at least the group ate with their shenanigans, alright? 😉

To the Ewan lovers, to the Matty enjoyers, to the Darling warriors—I think yous can see how things are falling into place now <3 Oh, and we'll see the outcome of Fabien's IG post in the next chapter.

Who will darling choose? Or is her choice already made? Chirp at me in the comments 💕

[dragons-and-yellow-roses]

Lately I've been going to bed around 4-6am and I have to wake up at 9am every day so I've only been getting 3-5 hours of sleep, but last night I went to bed at 2am so maybe I wouldn't feel like shit the next day, but I woke up at 6am and could not fall back asleep because I feel wide awake. My body hates me and doesn't want me to ever have more than five hours of sleep I guess

[hotwritergf]

if you haven’t already gotten a request like this…munch spencer? thank you <3

Oh, dilute me, gentle angel⛅️🌻

"You are not a morning person at all, are you?"

Spencer chuckles, rubbing the last remainder of sleep from the inner corners of his eyes.

Goosebumps decorate his arms as the breeze travels in through the cracked open window. Hiding your face in your shoulder as you groan, his hands rub up and down your back as he speaks. Soft as velvet, he pecks your forehead.

"Lazy little girl... As much as I enjoy having you laying on me like this, and I do.. Enjoy it. I need breakfast. Studies show that eating breakfast regularly may reduce the risk of obesity, type 2 diabetes, cardiovascular disease, high blood pressure, and stroke too.”

You roll your eyes playfully, not meaning to offend his early morning ramblings but aiming to rile him up just enough to see how much you can pull at his strings until he snaps.

"Talking, always talking."

You chuckle, shooting him a sarcastic grin.

"Oh you don't like me talking? You know men and women speak about 16,000 words every day, and you can't stand to hear me say a couple?"

Spencer offers you a pouty face in response to your distaste of his ramblings, but you can see the smirk straight through it. It's a cute attempt you think to yourself, he's cute.

He's especially cute in the mornings, his uncouth curls that are all tangled up in sleep and dreams. His hazel eyes seemingly looking a little more green in the sunrise creeping through from the curtains. His morning voice that is so uncharacteristically deep until he lets himself yawn and it goes back to normal, but still just as attractive.

You shuffle off his chest, now laying with your back to the headboard and your legs spread like a starfish, just to get the last laugh and hog the bed. Spencer smiles at you; the sort of smile that sends butterflies into your stomach and the flutter down into lust between your thighs.

That smile is trouble, and he knows what it does to you. Squeezing your thighs together, you run your fingers over his shoulders, chuckling when he shivers slightly.

Eagle eyed, Spencer notices your desire for him building. He places his palm flat on your stomach, reaching upwards towards your breasts.

Grinning, he starts to kiss your neck, his hand gently rubbing up and down your thigh as he kisses you. The kiss is deep, passionate and they only get more and more sensual as his fingers tangle in your hair, intertwining his fingers and your curls.

"I'll keep going for as long as you like... As long as you're comfortable, darling."

His hands find your underwear clad heat, one of them on your hip and the other tracing lazy circles just south of the bow on your waist band, finding your hyper-sensitive clit immediately. Chuckling when your breath hitches and your hips buck up into his fingertips.

"I just want to make you feel good, baby."

He hushed, rubbing the side of your hip reassuringly. Planting gentle kisses over your panties, mouthing over your clit as he works with your gasps and moans.

"You still wanna keep me quiet sweet girl?"

Spence teases, his voice riddled with want. You can do nothing but nod as he looks down at you, eyeing you up like his prey.

He smirks and steadies his weight onto his elbows, reaching up to whisper in your ear.

"Your wish is my command."

Spencer lays you down, manipulating your body into being in the perfect position for him. Hooking his fingers under the waistband of your underwear, yanking them down your thighs and tossing them across the room.

"Did you know that some biologists believe that oral sex may have helped the evolutionary process, since sexual pleasure between mates helped early humans choose better partners."

He mutters with his head rested on your sternum, looking up at you fluttering his eyelashes innocently as if he doesn't know he's relentlessly teasing you. Spencer chuckles, moving back down to finally taste you. Kissing over your bare cunt before opening his mouth and allowing his tongue to flicker over your clit. His tongue works lightly, slowly teasing over your bundle of nerves.

Your thighs squeeze over his ears, clamping his head in place as he pleasures you. Spencer groans, unable to speak as his face is trapped between your thighs, not once stopping his affection. Soft moans bubble up in your throat and you're unable to hold them back as they escape, exposing a symphony of carnal desire. His hot breath against your core spurring you on more through his kitty-licking on your clit.

For someone with Mysophobia, Spencer eats pussy like a man starved. If he didn't enjoy your noises and put your pleasure above his own in all over aspects of your life, you'd be sure he does this for his own pleasure only. Spence takes your sensitive bead between his lips, sucking softly his mouth is warm and oh-so inviting.

You tweak your nipples as they ache in isolation, grunting in response to both touches. Rubbing one between your fingers at the same rhythm as your boyfriend between your thighs.

He begins to lick through your swollen lips, collecting all of your wetness on his flat tongue as he goes, swirling it over your clit. The familiar feeling grows in your stomach, desperate to make itself known. You squeeze his head between your thighs once more, non-verbally letting him know you're close to coming undone.

"Please please please, I'm close"

You whine, writhing on the bed, gripping the sheets with one hand and holding his head against your cunt with the other. Spencer sucks against your clit again, the pressure just right as you push his face deeper into your pussy. Every stimulation sending you closer and closer to the edge.

"Shh, show don't tell."

He murmurs into your pussy, his words vibrating against you. His curls tickle against your inner thighs as he expertly circles his tongue against your clit, he takes your hand out of his hair and holds them down with his own, immobilising you as you approach orgasm.

You come undone, your clit swollen and needy. You push your thighs together, so hard that you're worried Spencer might suffocate between your skin. Your ass bounces from the bed, hips trying to reach the sky as your mind levitates from your conscious. Your orgasm washing over you like a tsunami, all of your nerves stand on end as Spencer refuses to stop licking.

Freeing your wrists from his grip, you pull his head away frantically, giggling through his forced overstimulated. Your mind delirious from the pleasure, he glances at you like a puppy whose favourite toy has been confiscated before chuckling and admitting defeat that you can't take anymore.

"You taste like heaven."

He smirks, licking the left over reminisce of you off of his lips as he teases.

"Are you feeling more like a morning person now?"

[daenysx]

i was thinking of remus and this is how i like to imagine him in a modern au i guess <33 requests are open if you wanna share with me, angels

remus lupin who's a night owl because apparently the silence is perfect for focusing on his books

remus lupin who ate too much chocolate once, he got sick

remus lupin who keeps eating chocolate because you can't possibly think he'll give up on his serotonin source

remus lupin who smokes in the early mornings as he watches sunrise

remus lupin who looks like a literal angel as he leans from window with his soft lips exhaling the smoke

remus lupin who has sensitive hands, he has to apply a hand cream every night to keep them from drying

remus lupin who takes his coffee black with no sugar

remus lupin who sometimes tries special drinks at a cafe (like pumpkin spice latte?) just because james insists

remus lupin who wears oversized sweaters

remus lupin who sleeps naked

remus lupin who likes long cuddling sessions in the morning

remus lupin who loves having his long legs tangled in yours

remus lupin who gives you sleepy kisses on your warm skin

remus lupin who adores counting the marks you left on his neck and chest

remus lupin who is responsible for making coffee in the morning

remus lupin who likes drinking red wine straight from the bottle with you on his bedroom floor in the evenings

remus lupin who gets quiet and cuddly when he's upset

remus lupin who likes getting his hair played with

remus lupin who uses the word 'dove' far too many times in a conversation with you

remus lupin who has classical pieces and rock songs in the same playlist

remus lupin who likes making love to you for hours

remus lupin who also likes getting rough when you're both in the mood

remus lupin who likes putting his head on the crook of your neck

remus lupin who has a messy handwriting

remus lupin who doesn't tidy up his room unless he really has to because he can't seem to find anything without a search party

remus lupin who needs to use reading glasses but he doesn't like the way they sit on his nose so he's being neglectful a lot

remus lupin who likes wearing mismatched socks when he's alone

remus lupin who has a home that smells like old books and orange cookies

remus lupin who eats all the chocolate before every time you try a new recipe just to see you flustered (also because- well, it's chocolate)

remus lupin who trusts james and sirius with his life

remus lupin who still uses wired headphones

remus lupin who likes sleeping with a background music

remus lupin who gives the best back rubs with his huge hands

remus lupin who likes midday naps

remus lupin who gets obsessed with herbal teas once in a while

remus lupin who can watch three movies in a row

remus lupin who has the comfiest couch you've ever seen

remus lupin who keeps you on the couch until you go lax in his arms as he cuddles you like it's his last day on world

[lady-ace]

The cities are alive

By now, it's a pretty common fact that the cities — yes, cities are in fact, alive.

They can project a body in their territory, thus showing their presence.

Lady Gotham is a dark mistress. Her wings are black like the fog that covers her whole city — as black as Gotham's night. Her long dress, even though seemingly soft and elegant in first glance, won't ever sway, not even in the harshest winter winds Gotham offers.

Even though she wears a blindfold, she sees all, is all. She sees beyond the surface of what eyes can see; knowing full well the pain and suffering every single Gotham citizen goes through, and bears that burden.

Her whole body seems to be made of pure, dark energy. Some accounts of eye witnesses say that if Lady Gotham wished so, she could easily blend into the shadows, as if she was never there. Ever watching over her people, even though unseen.

Legends say that if you ever feel like you're being watched even though there's nobody there, it's a sign Lady Gotham's spirit has her sights on you.

The person who have her favor, the ones she sees herself the most in, are her royal knights, who fight to keep her city and her people safe, every night.

Metropolis' spirit was very different, in many ways.

Metropolis was sunny and hopeful — a truly carefree soul.

Metropolis was the city that showed himself the most, simply enjoying being able to watch as the civillians go about their day, making the city burst with life.

Metropolis thrives on the energy of its people — that is reflected on the bright, sunny days with no clouds in sight, where the skyline gleams.

Of course, Metropolis' chosen is Superman, the most bright symbol of hope there is. Inspired by him, Metropolis even decided to encorporate a cape in their astral projection, said cape that shines like the sun and gleams like the sky no matter the time.

Everyone knows a city's spirit has at least something in common with their chosen.

Metropolis is the most boyscout city spirit out there. More often than not, the spirit can be found watching the sunrise, flying over the clouds, enjoying the freedom, or simply swinging his legs on a building, looking at everyone down below. The feeling of hope, of a chance of a better tomorrow — that is what Metropolis is looking for. And Superman has more than enough of that.

Even though Lady Gotham is cloaked in shadows, she doesn't wilt, she thrives— Just like her chosen, the Gotham Bats.

No one questions these things, they all make sense, don't they? The dark Lady has her dark Knights, the sunny city and the boyscout...

So imagine the faces of the League members when they find out through casual conversation that Fawcett is an actual child.

──────────────────────────

Green Lantern: “I know i shouldn't be talking about someone being childish, but the spirit that chose him is literally a child.”

Wonder Woman: “Are you certain that is the reason that the spirit chose to reflect a child's body? For his.. mentality?”

Green Lantern: “Yeah, pretty much. I mean, do you know any other reason that Fawcett could have chosen that form?”

Zatanna, who sometimes goes to Fawcett's magical market: “You all know that Fawcett's magical, right? What's more magical than a child's imagination?”

Flash: “If the spirit wanted to reflect something of Marvel's, why choose the mentality? The lightning bolt is right there!”

──────────────────────────

“Uno!” a child made of yellow energy exclaims, grinning devilishly.

Freddy gasps, holding a single card in his hand — having played the second to last one just seconds before. “Oh you did NOT just do that.”

Fawcett giggles like a goblin, watching as Freddy glares at them, pointedly making eye contact as he starts buying cards.

“Well, if you had been just a little faster..” Billy says, playing a reversal card. Freddy looks once at his new cards, then proceeds to sigh in frustration, buying even more cards while glaring murderously at the Champion.

“Batson, if i were you, i'd sleep with one eye open tonight.”

Billy can't contain his giggles anymore and bursts out laughing, Fawcett following suit.