#it's so fucked up bc you can see he is genuinely wired like that too. he WANTS to help. he wants to do good

[moe-broey]

HELP maybe this is influenced by how I'm writing this, or maybe it was supposed to be gleaned from canon and I just. Haven't fully thought about it til now. Haven't Deeply analyzed it beyond the blaring alarm bells that go off when reading this. But. Alfonse's,

Straight into.

This isn't him doubling down. This is him BACKTRACKING. This is him going, "oh fuck I think maybe I came on a little too strong maybe I was a bit too vulnerable and that's really scary. How do I fix this" and he's running through all the dialogue options in his head like Okay. Play it Cool. Keep it Casual. Proclaim your undying loyalty and devotion to your Trusted Partner (person he just told in the beginning of this conversation that he didn't intend to become friends with) by making yourself a blade and shield for them. NAILED IT 👍

[coquettetoji]

{💌} ARMIN ARLERT MOODBOARD

★ general armin hcs ★

— sweetest soul who is 100% down to earth, will scold you for not recycling your fork into the correct trash can and will pick up plastic / any trash on the ground

— nerdy golden retriever boy, and is the biggest people pleaser

— played hockey growing up and in college, he’s a right winger

— reads a shit ton of books, will press pretty and colorful flowers he finds outside into the book spine to save it

— is academically and naturally smart, gpa is a strong 4.2, majors in business, economics, or biology, some smart shit like that ( will grow up to be that hot rich dad every single mom wants )

— SLEEPER BUILD 🗣️🗣️AND A V LINE🗣️🗣️

— hands are big but they’re like bony and soft, he also plays piano so he’s good with his hands *moan*

— his most used app is spotify, google classroom, and messages

— lana del rey coded. i will argue with anyone who thinks otherwise.

— listens to cigarettes after sex, clairo, and this one random 63 hour playlist called ‘band cafe soft jazz music’

— speaking of cigarettes, armin also smokes cigarettes (ik i’m sorry) but this guy is a student athlete, ofc he’s gonna have to de-stress somehow

— drives the newest model of a white range rover with beige interior

— 6’1 teddy bear with attachment issues

— speaks french fluently

— so so so soft spoken like you will never see him yelling at another person, even when he’s frustrated

— also doesn’t like cursing, will give someone a quick glance if they cuss but won’t mind it

— has a gold chain around his neck, yes the slutty kind

— came from old money 🤭🤑, he dresses like it too i’m talking quarter zips, sweaters, khakis, and neutral colors, wears his gold thin wire framed glasses occasionally

— knows all girl shit bc of his little sister (who he adores) he learned how to take care of her so he’s really reliable when it comes to treating girls right

— his phone case is the apple silicone one that’s cream color, keeps one of his credit cards in the case behind his phone

— phone screen is him and his puppy ( spot the difference game for everyone 👍 )

— every woman he knows or did a favor for all say “his mother raised him right”

— the most organized person ever, his whole pantry would labeled and organized like khloe kardashian’s

— eren and armin are 100% that black cat golden retriever duo, take a wild guess on who is which lol

— 2 deep dimples on his cheeks that pop out when he smiles, also has light freckles dusted on his nose n around it, has the straightest whitest teeth + an adorable smile **he’s so grateful for braces existing

— overall the most genuine human out there, no detection of fuck boy here 😁😁😁

{💌} new message from mica

armin is actually my baby i love him so much i need me a soft spoken tall nerdy blonde white boy in my life now

[bitchslapblastoids]

Just curious, was the energy any different between the two shows?

Dan and phil’s energy wasn’t different other than Dan sounding like his voice was strained. It actually cracked right at the end when he said ‘see you back on the internet,’ and he had to visibly pause to swallow and like. Lubricate his throat (sry) during some of his solo bits. The vocals backing track or vocal distortion or whatever was happening was up way louder for the song; I could barely hear them both after the uke bit was done. Like, you could hear the lyrics well but couldn’t pick out the individual strands of their voices.

Can a vocal coach PLEASE teach dan that the mic is there for a reason and you actually don’t have to shout and ruin your vocal chords the whole show and there’s actually so much technique to preserving your voice and that it doesn’t have to be this way! I feel like Phil (naturally less of a shrieker too) has a better handle on this and uses his mic tactfully to amplify his voice. (there were points when Dan’s sheer volume sorta hurt my ears sry I love you please never stop talking but please pipe down)

But yeah I was surprised by how totally energized they were on their third performance in a row!!! Didn’t appear tired or wired during show or preshow, they were just them <3

Also I have to say (and I don’t think this is just bc I knew what to expect the second time around) the clothes sharing/tour bus bed/Vegas vid combination (night 1) was so absolutely fucking gobsmacking, and the way they read us for filth with the zooming in and compilations of photos felt more cutting. I felt genuinely shellshocked and so fucking clocked as I was hurdled back to being on idb in 2015 engaging in busgate discourse and…yeah. The phwedding/pole/sleepless night conspiracy combo just didn’t quite hit the same.

I find it really interesting how drastically those conspiracies can change the tone of the show. Some are much more revealing than others.

The audience’s energy was diff - people were louder night2, more yelling out random shit during the show at unsolicited points (pls stop omg it makes me want to die this show is actually not about you), more energy when dancing to the preshow playlist, more interacting with eachother and then scrambling to find their seats while act 2 had already begun, more feral overall I’d say, lol

Oh and it seemed like they were moving through everything a bit faster night 2. It ended a bit earlier.

[intertexts]

miss g thoughts? miss g thoughts. OKAY. YEAH. i haven't actually thought about the prime force a whole lot yet bc I wanted to learn more about the triumvirate . which. considering the arc I'm on now! well!! so this is gonna be just on the spot thrown together ideas and I'll reform them later.

Basically miss g/hexpert I am thinking like. what if miss militia had the demeanor of an elementary school teacher and the sheer Presence of alexandria. I imagine she's SUPER popular with the public, she's the Face of the prime force (because. Come on. your other options are harlem shade and origami and NEITHER of them should be trusted to talk to the media on their own) . so like. on the surface she's!! friendly!! and personable!! and kids love her!! and she still has her "teaching moments" thing. and she genuinely is kind and wants to help and do the right thing but... this is worm . she's the triumvirate equivalent leader. she's seen some shit she's done some shit. her powers are actually functionally pretty similar to miss militia except instead of weapons it's Tools so... she can be BRUTAL when she needs to be. and she will be. because she understands what would happen if she wasn't. I imagine because she's the face of the prime force and she is like.... family friendly as much as that means anything in worm.. there's a bigger effort from the prt and media to kind of. cover up when she does some fucked up shit. to keep that image. and there's this silent agreement between she and Harlem that because he's openly very much more... dark and edgy. I think he takes the fall for her whenever something like that comes out. "the prime force killed x villain in cold blood" and Harlem openly says "yeah that was me. it needed to be done" so that miss g can still function as the face. harlem is rlly popular with. edgy teens. I think this probably causes some tension with Jason, not because he feels bad about lying to the public but because he doesn't want to get blamed for things he didn't do. the three of them are friends and everything but. you listened to folding paper you know how Jason is.

ANYWAY ANYWAY. I think that's most of it for now. I imagine it's a bit of a culture shock (probably mostly for dakota) to grow up seeing miss g smiling on TV only to join the wards and see things for how they really are when she. brutally dispatches an echidna style clone with ruthless efficiency using a fucking. wire garrote or something.

YEAAAAA AWESOME. also. hahaha. lmao. well. i guess you know more about the triumvirate now!

LOVE THIS FOR HER. BTW. she summons tools is fucking TERRIFYING, btw. tool is such a loosely defined word?? reminds me a little bit of eidolon too, ngl... like, a version of his power where she doesn't get *powers specifically*, but she gets. whatever else she needs in any situation. that goes SO HARD. there are. my mind is spiraling in so many ways thinking about how well that power fits to a multitude of scenarios. is she still hexpert?? because. there's not really any magic aesthetics involved?? or is she just expert......... that doesnt sound as cool. idk. maybe it does? you could do some fun branding with that. always call the expert. etc. anyway this is really good i love the facade of it all... she genuinely is good and kind and wants to do right!! it's just. impossible to do that and keep your hands clean sometimes. the dynamic btwn the prime force here is so compelling also. give them a complicated at times strained but still genuine friendship!

[mandaloria314]

The Wire s3 ending was so good, but also so unsatisfying on some arcs in such an accurate, true to life way.

Avon and Stringer breakup? Aaaaah. That last beautiful convo at the downtown penthouse showed the widening gulf between them. That hug was so long too…I knew it was a goodbye hug. The growing distrust, the difference in goals and views despite coming up together…so raw. They each gave up on the other.

And Kima saying McNulty was taking Stringer’s death like he was kin? I’ll just famously quote “shiiiiiiit.” If McNulty could bring that handsome target back from the dead he would faster than he could chug a cold one.

The drug trade amnesty zone showed some of the best and worst of humanity. Sadly it reminds me of the current stand of the open air drug market in Philly right now—you know the one you can watch a live video of, after they cleared up the underground of Broadway and brought it to light. Like society just gave up on them. Hurts to see. In the show, we saw Bub’s friend finally die of OD. And yet in the show, it was also a social experiment that had some silver linings, like Carver showing some genuine care for the young boys caught up in the game. Corvin, my man, damn…

Happy for the prosecutor and major. That sweaty fuck we got to see that was synced up with the boxing was hot. She really did better than McNulty ha. Speaking of, I’m worried about how he taught Kima how to cheat on her wife better. And I’m worried about Bunk’s drinking. He might be the next to keel over on a stair master. For a moment, I even thought McNulty was standing on the train tracks with a death wish. That train whistle sounded and he turned toward the light…. But he got his ass sober’ish and went to see the nice dock cop. Good on him.

Prez….how real was it when he admitted there might have been unconscious bias at play (in shooting a fellow officer who was black) without knowing those words?

Marlo watching Avon and his crew at arraignment whooo.

The surprise team up between Mr bow tie and Omar was badass. And deadly. Call me Jimmy bc I too was obsessed with Stringer. Did a lot of it have to do with the actor Idris Elba being ridiculously hot with such intense presence? Of course. But I enjoyed the chase too. Sucks he got made, so close to touching the dream like he told Avon.

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

alexis i fell to the fucking floor at least five times while reading this i would kill for u . i could kiss u. i was half-joking before but like do u know ur ring size?? do u? pls tell me im down on one knee rn….

YOURE SPOILING ME YOU RLLY ARE i cant tell u how much i appreciate u taking the time to write this?!???? UR SO…….. so lovely and sweet BUT ALSO U GET IT????? U GET IT COMPLETELY??????? the way u see the vision so perfectly everything u said is like. Exactly what i was thinking while writing. ur so scary (affectionate)

i dont want this to get too long (it will) but i do wanna comment on everything u said so bad bc literally everything made me so insane and i want u to know that i’d give u my firstborn <333 here is a treat for u to snack on if u decide to read through this!!🧋🍰 im so obsessed w this au so theres just sm to say… sm to think abt..

FIRST OFF I AGREEEE i loveeee masc coded readers <3333 i feel like the gojo x reader tag in particular is 99% fem!reader which is totally fine but i do think hes a queer ass man so m!readers are so special to me!! 

anyway anyway GOSHHH ALEXIS UR MIND i feel like u just Got every single line in this fic even ones i didnt think ppl would notice do u KNOW how special u are to me….. we share the same brain fr 🤝 (the quotev girlie bond i think <3) like all ur thoughts abt the monarchy, royalty, the differences between the knight and the prince..  his priviliege. i was sitting there reading this going EXACTLY U GET IT <333 every two seconds LMAO

and the resentment!! tbh i think ur so real, i wrote this reader as like . Extremely devoted and thats why they never once resent him bc they love him from the get go but i would definitely feel that envy and contempt too!! we're both children, the only difference is that one of us has the power to bend the worlds to their fingers and the other is the one that has to bend. <- THIS IS EXACTLY IT u phrased it so beautifully. and i think gojo wants to get rid of that dynamic sooo bad but its just impossible. theyre on different levels!! he wants to be down on the ground w them but he cant bc he was born in the sky. etc etc etc.

all your thoughts on prince!gojo in general are so real so true u get him like no one else <333 he DOESNT want to be king literally the only reason he works towards it is so he can protect reader. like. thats ALL. deep down i think he just wants to run away w them :<

and!! him being such a good ruler too!!!!!! ur so right! u see the vision! (i am holding both ur hands while saying this) hes empathetic and was absolutely born w that kind of kindness wired in, i think especially bc he was always soso isolated!! and then meeting someone like reader… it def did just set him down the best path possible bc to have someone u love grow up in such harsh conditions will make u so desperate to change them. and satoru never wants to have to meet anyone like reader again!!! i think hes similar to canon satoru in that he wants to preserve youth above all else <3333 hes a sweetipie an angel boy etc etc

(something tells you he’d kneel, too, if only you’d let him.) <- this line. its so good. reader and gojo both know that they're meant for different things and they honestly were probably never supposed to meet, but they did anyways, and now they're intrinsically connected to a someone who's fate couldn't be more different than theirs.

^ IM SO GLAD U LIKED IT THERE R TEARS IN MY EYES ALEXIS I LIVE OFF UR APPROVAL….. thats exactly what i wanted to convey <33 theyre soulmates to me!!

ALSOOOOO KNIGHT!GETO X ROYALTY!READER ????? ur crazy. i can always trust u. knight!sugu would be so fucking overprotective over his prince/princess like its genuinely infuriating…. he bullies u too but he does so lovingly. and no one else is allowed to hes like a guard dog. takes care of u all the time even if ur acting spoiled and bratty he probably likes it tbh

the thoughts are coming to me wait… sneaking u out of the castle w a roll of his eyes bc u kept nagging him abt it … having this big tall beautiful man kneel for u time and time again NOOO I CAN FEEL MYSELF SLIPPING AWAY WHAT HAVE U DONE TO ME 💔💔💔 😭😭😭😭 (do u feel the hakyona vibes also or is that just me…)

sigh. ill add it to the wips 😔😔😔 (the thoughts have now consumed me fully pls just know its in the works <33 will tag u when its out ty for having such a giant brain i am kissing ur cheek)

AND ALEXIS are u inside my brain…. be honest. i think ur the first person to mention the maid i got so excited. the maid that hurt reader and got fired or worse hmmm i wonder i wonder…. BUT U CAUGHT IT AND U LITERALLY GET IT SO WELL???? i cant believe ur brain i genuinely cant the way u dissected this npc maid AND UR ABSOLUTELY RIGHT TOO…. the envy. having to watch this brat get everything they want, hang around the prince far too much, just who do they think they are? theyll always just be a street rat. someone needs to remind them of that, right?

aaaand then satoru walks in <333 and tbh alexis i think he just snaps. its an important moment in my mind bc he rlly is a sweet boy but i think thats the first moment he genuinely wants to see someone suffer and he realizes that he has the power to make it happen… yeahhh. also i think he gets sooo much more protective of knight!reader after that incident :< he just wants them to be safe n happy!!

anyway. I LOVE YOUUUUU this was the sweetest thing to read ever ever ever im gonna keep it in my heart for the rest of my life <333 it means sm that u liked the dynamic and the writing n just . This in general ITS SUCH HIGH PRAISE COMING FROM U TOO….. sniffle. ily i hope u have the nicest sleep ever tonight TAT

how deep is your devotion? ; satoru gojo

synopsis; you’re his knight, and he’s your prince. if only it were that simple.

word count; 6.6k

contents; satoru gojo/reader, gn!reader, royalty au (..but no effort put into making it historically accurate in any way oops), knight!reader x prince!toru!!, childhood friends, mutual pining, fluffy overall, some hurt/comfort too, vague allusions to abuse (reader is punished by one of the castle maids as a child but it’s only rly hinted at), knight!reader is horrendously devoted but prince!gojo is arguably worse, he would burn the world down if u asked nicely <3

a/n; big big BIG thank u to @softgirlgonehaywire for having the biggest brain in the world and infecting me w this concept <33 if u pay attention while reading u can tell the exact moment i started slowly spiraling into insanity.

you are five years old when you meet the prince.

five years old, a mere child, and too young to be blinded by such brilliance. too young to be where you are; curled up in a dark alley, back against a grimy brick wall, covered in bruises. like a beaten dog — scrawny and afraid. waiting for a strike that never comes.

the boy in front of you is also five years old, but you don’t know that. something in him looks older, somehow, something in the way he carries himself. like he doesn’t have anything to be afraid of. like he’s never even felt fear. he parts his lips and speaks like he has the right to, like he’s comfortable in his own skin, a radiance so blinding you could mistake him for the sun. too much for you to bear.

”does it hurt?”

the words fall on deaf ears. but you flinch, your body reacts, a tremble down your tiny spine. you hear the sound but not the words. too mesmerized, too paralyzed, unable to look away from the blue of his eyes, painted with rich watercolour hues. seeping into the world around you like ink on paper, cobalt and aquamarine and something else, something you’ve never seen before —

a blue so jarring it makes you shiver.

the boy has an innocent face. almost girlish, plump cheeks and long lashes, clean clothes and smooth skin. a little too pretty to be out here, you think, in this part of town — too pure to be anywhere near someone like you. he’s above you, that much you can tell. a pretty, innocent face, untouched by dirt or ache; the face of royalty. an entirely different species.

there’s something keen in his eyes, a contrast to his childlike features. a sharp gaze, something that sees through you, something that won’t look away. something mildly frightening. enough to have you cowering in fear, hugging your knees closer to your chest.

but then he smiles. and it’s sincere. sweet, vibrant, all honey and milk and a world you cannot reach.

a smile so captivating you take his outstretched hand, and let him drag you away to god-knows-where.

(that's how it begins. the dynamic that’ll follow you into your adult lives; satoru takes the lead, and you follow. no matter where he’s going.)

satoru gojo, as you soon come to learn, is the prince of the nation you reside in. the only child of the royal family, born with talent and prestige, fame and fortune, set to become king. a different species, indeed.

but he brings you home with him, to a castle so grand you feel as if your very presence is an insult to the architects who designed it, and convinces his parents to let you stay. it’s surprising, but you don’t protest; following him like a puppy at his trail. and he’s stubborn, insistent, demanding that he get to keep said puppy. 

the king and queen don’t care one way or another. they glance at you with apathy, and tell satoru to do what he wants — but convincing the scary and displeased castle maids takes some work. 

satoru doesn’t waver, though. he holds your hand in his, and demands that you be treated with respect.

and he wins. he always wins.

that’s how you become the prince’s playmate. raised alongside him, allowed to stay close, eat from the same food. he won’t settle for anything less. defending your honour, always, before you even know what honour means. before you care.

time passes slowly. joyously. every day is a new adventure, as you attempt to get used to the miracle that is your new life — sweet and silky, apricot blossoms and fresh peaches, duvet pillows and a bubbly laughter you didn’t know you still had. he coaxes it out of you, with every secret midnight outing, every bout of mischief he drags you both into. 

satoru has nice hands, uncalloused palms, fingers that grasp yours and don’t let go. he takes you outside, to see the stars, to catch fireflies in the dark of night on top of the hill that oversees the castle. to take a dip in the river just below it, gleaming a silver hue under the blue shade of the moon. you worry about getting in trouble, but he reassures you — the prince can do what he wants.

that might be true, but you are no prince. not even close. satoru may safeguard you, but all you’ll ever be in the eyes of the world is a stray he got to keep.

and one time, only one time, you do face the repercussions of your midnight outings. you, and you alone. a bad influence — seething words, buzzing in your ears. an angry castle maid, and a stinging pain in your cheek. blurry tears. 

but that’s an incident no one in the castle dares to speak of.

(you’ll never forget that look in his eyes.)

satoru is an odd boy. he keeps you close, always, clinging to you like he needs you to breathe. you don’t understand why, but you’ve learned not to question him. the castle guards all know you as the prince’s best friend, and some part of you knows that’s all you’ll ever amount to. but you don’t mind.

because you love him. at five years old, six years old, seven and beyond, you love him. satoru gojo, the kindest boy in the stratosphere. 

a boy who keeps finding you, no matter where you are, who tugs you along as naturally as the rise of the sun. who raids kitchen cabinets with you and always makes you laugh, little giggles and chuckles that have him beaming proudly. a boy who cleans your wounds with a serious expression, and tells you that he’ll protect you forever. 

(you tell yourself the same. that you’ll protect him forever and ever, until you run out of air to breathe. a boy so sweet you’d die for him.)

a pledge is made. you make it before you know what a pledge is. pledging to protect him, to become his sword, because even as a child you understand that his life will be difficult. you see it in the dullness that sometimes comes over his eyes, the apathy of his so-called parents, the hours he spends locked up with nothing but a pile of dusty books to keep him company. 

so you decide to become his knight. his, and his alone. 

it’s challenging. but you push through; training with another aspiring knight, miles better than you, black hair tousled by the breeze as he knocks you off your feet for the thirtieth consecutive time. wincing as the girl who sometimes watches your sparring patches you up, soft hands cleaning your wounds so tenderly that you almost choke up.

and eventually, as the apricot blossoms of the castle orchard wilt and bloom over and over in a flurry of pure white, your dream comes true. 

there’s something playful in satoru’s eyes, when he places his blade on the curve of your shoulder. something sweet and fond, and just a little bit ironic — as if you’re still seven years old, and playing house. 

you want to tell him that it isn’t a joke. that you’re serious, about this, that you’d tear your stomach open to keep him safe. but you know he’d just laugh. so you let the words clog up your throat, honey-sweet devotion sticking to the walls of your esophagus. breathing in through your nose, as he speaks. as the words you’ve waited to hear flow from his plump lips.

when all is said and done, satoru smiles. he calls you his little knight, and you can tell that he’s teasing you. indulging you, as if he’s in on some joke that you aren’t. but you’ll take what you can get.

you call him my prince, expecting him to laugh it off, but his smile begins to fall. and a pang of ache rushes through your soul, instantaneous, guilty, although you don’t understand why.

so you keep calling him satoru. even though it’s more than a little unprofessional, and you become painfully accustomed to receiving a few judgemental looks here and there. a knight and a prince shouldn’t be so very close, they think, and you don’t disagree. but there’s nothing they can do about it, anyhow.

the prince and his knight can do what they want.

not much changes. you’re his knight, but he treats you the same as before. he’s playful, a little goofy, and you indulge him. as always. attached at the hip, bickering and bantering, bouncing off each other effortlessly. and satoru never bothers to hide your history, the soft spot he has for you; it’s in every fleeting glance, soft tilt of his head, teasing call of ah, there’s my favorite knight. 

(you’re no stranger to jealous looks. sometimes a pout on the lips of a pretty girl, a crease between the brows of one of your fellow knights. and sometimes a glare, from his fiancée — a woman he was engaged to before he was old enough to speak.

but you don’t mind. you’ve never cared what anyone but satoru thinks of you.)

satoru never loses his smile, that effortless air of confidence. the charm that makes people want to follow him, a charisma you know well. one you fell victim to at five years of age. he’s still just a prince, far from being a king, but he receives the same respect.

and that keen, sharp glimmer in his eyes never quite goes away; the hardened shell around his heart unbroken. you see it in fleeting glances, during meetings, ones he allows you to attend despite your status. when he speaks to a room of people with more power than you can imagine, his voice unwavering. back straight. elegant, serious, the presence of royalty — enough to receive respect without even trying. 

but he still shoots you a smile, easygoing, when your eyes meet. one only you can see.

as for you, the step into knighthood is a clumsy one. but you take your duties seriously, and adjust properly. a deep devotion runs through your veins, from your beating heart down to the tips of your fingers, where a sword lies clutched. you keep it close, always, ready to serve. to obey. to protect. 

all of it for one person.

all you do is for him. duels in his honour, beasts slain for his peace of mind, and he’s always there to welcome you back. wiping the blood from your cheek, tenderly, smearing his untainted skin with red; all while he looks at you softly, a coo or word of praise waltzing on the tip of his tongue. 

that’s only for when you remain unscathed, though, when the blood on your cheek isn’t your own. when you get hurt, it’s different. something begins to brew inside his eyes, and you can’t tell what it is. but he insists on bandaging you himself, paying no mind to your meek protests.

sometimes, you’re more reckless than usual. your injuries worse. sometimes he looks upset, angry with you, and doesn’t speak. you don’t, either.

a strange look crosses over his eyes, every now and then. when you get down on one knee, to kiss his hand, the metal of the ring on his finger — and if you look up, you’ll see it. simmering inside those blue depths, something just as fond as it is sad. troubled, you think.

(something tells you he’d kneel, too, if only you’d let him.)

the bond between you remains intact. even as you begin to shoulder more responsibilities, more duties, even though you don’t have as much freedom as you used to. even though you seem to get less time to spend with each other every single day. but you stay together, even so; just like when you were children, running around and causing trouble, more than you could get away with now. 

despite everything, satoru has grown up into a fine man. and you couldn't be prouder.

“do you think i look good in black? be honest.”

you throw him a glance. curious, somewhat perplexed, eyeing him up and down.

satoru is wearing a white blouse, puffy sleeves and a low neckline, showing off the skin of his bare chest. no black colours to be seen. you think back to that banquet he attended last month, forced into an expensively tailored black coat. a corset around his waist. and then you hum.

“sure you do.”

”suguru said it makes me look like a try-hard,” he scoffs, crossing his arms. tilting his head in your direction. ”do you think he’s jealous?”

”definitely.”

a moment passes. 

satoru narrow his eyes, and gives you a dubious look. clicking his tongue. ”… something tells me you aren’t taking this seriously.”

”i am,” you assure him, a lazy smile at your lips. meeting his gaze, that displeased little pout. still smoothing a brush down the mane of your horse, the smell of hay soothing your muddled senses. ”just tired. you look good in anything. you know that.”

he hums. silent, the sound of a spring breeze filling in the gaps.

it’s late. outside the stables, the world is engulfed by a dark sky, almost too murky to see anything. hazy stars glimmer in the distance, and a sense of fatigue gnaws at your bones. it’s been a long day, and yet you’re here — doing even more work. just a little more.

and satoru’s right there with you. even though he’s just sitting there, on the floor, not lifting a finger to help. not that he has to. insistent on spending some quality time with you, keeping you company. just talking and munching on the food he snuck in, bread and cheese and an expensive bottle of wine, that he leaves completely untouched. he tries to leave some of everything else for you, though. keyword being tries.

a sense of peace simmers in the air. palpable, almost enough to taste, as midnight air streams in from the opened doors, chilly and pleasant on your skin. ruffling the thin fabric of your clothing.

and it’s nice, you think, just to have satoru there — talking about this and that, complaining about all the annoying people he had to meet yesterday, yawning every now and then. nostalgic. like this, it almost feels like you're still kids. back when you spent every single hour of the day by each other’s side.

it’s been a long time since you got the chance to speak like this. satoru’s been busy, and so have you. more so than usual.

”are they running you ragged?” he suddenly asks, and you don’t realize you’ve spent the last minute staring into space. resuming your brushing, with steady hands, but turning your head to meet his gaze.

”need me to…” he makes a slicing motion with his hand, right over his throat. a glint of mischief in his eyes. ”handle it?”

and you scoff. amused, but answering him seriously; unsure if his question is all-together humorous, if it doesn’t carry a hint of something genuine too. ”of course not.”

there’s a weariness in the way you blink. the way you pet the animal in front of you, having finished getting the dirt and blood clots out of her mane. she lays down in her stall, and you smile. turning around to rest your back against the wooden border between you, a respite for your aching bones.

it gets just a little bit tiring, sometimes. fighting, patrolling, helping townsfolk. protecting the castle, making sure everything is in order. killing whatever needs to be killed. cleaning the stained silver of your sword.

but…

”it’s my duty,” you answer, seriously, and it comes out sounding like a vow. because it is. 

you avoid his gaze, but you can feel it, as you pick up the wine bottle by your feet and pop the cork. soft moonlight flits in from the windows, illuminating the green glass. a chartreuse glow that reminds you of fireflies, shimmering in your grasp, and for some reason it soothes your heart.

satoru only hums, far from approving. popping a piece of cheese into his mouth. 

after a brief pause, he continues. ”you don’t have to be so serious all the time, you know.” his voice comes out a little raspy. it’s got a certain tilt to it, one that means he wants you to take him seriously. ”not around me.”

you take a sip of the wine. expensive, blood red. it’s too sweet for your taste, heavy on your tongue.

”… i’m less serious with you than i am with others.”

satoru sits up a little straighter.

”yeah?” he grins, a kind of satisfaction blooming in his eyes. cerulean and sweet. almost smug, you think, like the cat that got the cream. ”that’s good. you really should loosen up, though.”

a glance. fleeting, just to see him — but he isn’t looking at you. he’s looking outside, through the opened window, at the sway of the apricot trees. white petals flitting in, landing by his feet. in his hair.

when his eyes meet yours, they’re smoothed over by that something you can never put your finger on. a blend between longing and fondness. crinkled at the edges.

”you’ve got a pretty smile,” he exhales. ”be a shame not to show it off.”

when you look at him, really look at him, you see it. that fatigue. it slips out when he talks to you, a sincere way of speaking that never quite allows him to hide his emotions. you hear the hint of a yawn, can practically feel the weight on his shoulders. the weight of an entire nation. a weight he was always bound to carry.

(you could never bring yourself to be even remotely alright with it.)

“have you been doing okay?” you ask, and satoru blinks. there’s a soft look in your eyes, as they trail over the contours of his face, his lashes catching the light of the stars. an innocent, pretty face. but he looks tired. frail. like he hasn’t been sleeping properly.

something rotten bubbles up inside your throat.

”they’re running you ragged, too,” you say, hand settling on your hip. where your sword usually is. unconsciously, on instinct — or maybe just to make him laugh. ”need me to step in?”

satoru chuckles. husky, mellow. dripping with soft amusement.

”settle down, little knight.”

a moment passes. silent. his eyes flutter shut, for a second, and a breath slips from his lips. almost a sigh. in the distance, you hear the quiet coo of an owl. 

”of course,” he eventually answers, opening his eyes. and you think he looks a little resigned. but smiling. self-deprecating, you think, although he’d like you to assume otherwise. ”all of it is just preparation, anyhow.” 

a flimsy smile, as he looks into your knowing eyes. ”it’s what i was born for, wasn’t it?”

you purse your lips.

“… i don’t think so.”

another chuckle. a little delighted, this time. 

“yeah,” he cranes his neck, emitting a low groan. “me neither.” something sweet blossoms in his eyes, sweet like the crunch of the apple he bites into, juice dribbling down his chin. ”but it is what it is.”

a beat. you part your lips, trying to find the right words. ”tell me if there's anything i can do,” you settle on. the same words you always choose. ”anything at all.”

satoru smiles. “right.” his voice carries a teasing tilt. almost a purr. ”there’s nothing you wouldn't do for me, hm?” 

“— there isn’t.” you smile. “nothing at all.”

he blinks. a little dazed, for a second, and you watch as his ears redden. slight, enough for you to notice, but gone before you can bring it up. a contemplation smooths over his features. and a pleasant breeze flits in, ruffling his hair, apricot petals kissing up his skin. he looks at the apple in his hands.

then he sighs. placing his palms on his knees, and rising to his feet. his arms twitch, muscular beneath the flimsy blouse, and you gulp. although you aren’t sure why.

“alright, then.” his eyes flicker in the dim light, sharp and decisive. he crosses over to you with long strides. “there is something you can do.”

when he’s close enough, satoru reaches out his hand; opening his palm. a silent beckoning. you look at him, not saying a word. his expression is unreadable. 

then you intertwine your fingers with his. unquestioningly, even in the midst of your confusion.

(it reminds you of that day. when he pulled you up to your feet, held your hand in his and refused to let go. leading you to the promise of something better.)

no matter where he goes, you follow.

and satoru grins. it’s sweet, just like back then, a smile so vibrant you wish you could tuck it into your sleeve and keep it there forever. he curls his fingers around yours, gentle, fondness bubbling up inside his eyes. for a second, you think you see the sun.

“come with me.”

at first, you truly aren’t sure where he’s going to take you. hand in hand, you begin to walk, feeling the midnight breeze nip at your skin. beyond the castle walls, away from the hustle and bustle from the nearby town. satoru holds your hand and smiles, tousled tufts of white hair swaying with the wind, leading you to a place you know well. a place where the air tastes like freedom.

it’s the river you used to play by as children.

gleaming a solemn silver under the evanescent moon, framed by bushes of lilacs, blooming indigo and violet and pure white. the scent of nectar hangs heavy in the air, and you breathe it in. on top of the hill just above you, you think you can spot tiny little glowing dots; green and yellow, buzzing around. dancing merrily, now that there aren’t any troublemaker children left to trap them.

satoru lets go of your hand, to roll up his sleeves. the hems of his pants. then he’s taking a step forward, dangerously close to the edge of the river, and you can tell what he’s thinking.

“ah — wait —“ you stumble forward, to grab hold of his arm. a worried crease forms between your brows. “that's dangerous, satoru. you could slip and fall.”

he turns to face you, a teasing mirth in his eyes. smirking lightly. “oh? is that so?” he hums, a slight tilt of his head. then he’s stepping closer, so close you feel his warm breath on your skin, but you will yourself not to step back. “wanna know what i think?”

he leans forward, just a little further, warm air brushing against the shell of your ear. flushing beneath it. his voice comes out low, a sleepy lilt, dangerously raspy. hand ghosting over your waist.

”i think you’re too scared to get in.”

you blink.

”… really?” you deadpan, stepping back a tad. satoru looks pleased with himself. awfully amused.

“really,” he purrs. “you were always like that. could barely dip your toes in without shivering.” he reaches out to pinch your cheek, a coo on the tip of his tongue. ”scaredy-cat.”

you raise your brow. unimpressed.

satoru steps back. inching closer to the river, until a quiet splash tells you that he’s standing in the water. lapping up his bare legs, not enough to even reach his knees — it felt a lot scarier when you were smaller. he’s still holding your hand, very loosely, fingertips ghosting your own. 

“c’mon,” he coaxes. soft, encouraging, a playful glimmer in his eyes. teeth catching the light of the moon. “or is it too much for my brave knight to handle?”

satoru laughs, when you furrow your brows, attempting to hide the flush of your cheeks. a warmth spreads through your chest at the term of endearment, and you bite your lip. melting a little. 

his knight.

“.. fine,” you tangle your fingers in his own. sighing deeply, taking a tentative step forward. “just be careful, okay? i don't want to deal with your whining if you hit your head.”

“ah, but you’d kiss it better, no? if i asked?” he flashes you a honeyed grin, eyes rich with amusement. you hope the darkness of the night is enough to hide the red of your ears.

a grumble buzzes in your throat, locked behind your pursed lips.

the man in front of you softens. he says your name; slowly, thoughtfully, as if savouring every syllable. dragging them out, speaking with a lilt that tells you he’s being sincere. “loosen up. it’s just you and me.”

so you do.

and it’s odd. how easy it is to get lost in him, the watercolour of his eyes, the brightness of his grin. how pliantly you let him whisk you away. before you know it, you’re playing in the water — because satoru splashed you, laughing at the shock on your face and the shiver of your spine, and you had no choice but to retaliate. 

the sound of his laughter fills the air, sweet and bubbly. deep and giddy. strands of hair stick to his wet skin, droplets running down his neck, but his grin never falters. bright and toothy, boyish. he looks younger than you ever remember him being. like there’s no weight on his shoulders, none at all, only soaked fabric weighing him down. 

you think it’s ridiculous, two grown adult splashing each other like children. but his melodic giggles are contagious, and before you know it, you’re laughing too — and satoru looks at you like you hung all the stars in the sky. through dewy eyelashes, with cerulean eyes that melt into the pale blue of the moon and the silver of the river. filled with wonder.

a particularly ruthless splash knocks him off balance, and he has the instinct to reach for your arm; stumbling, slipping, dragging you down with him. you land on his chest, cheek against his neck, his pulse against your skin. erratic, joyous. fluttering happily.

his chest is heaving. lifting you up and down, a little, rhythmic and comforting. 

a sudden yelp slips past your lips, as you get snapped back into reality, into the realization that you basically just pushed your own prince into a river and used his unfairly soft chest as a cushion. a mumbled string of apologies escapes you, as you attempt to get up, scrambling to find footing.

but satoru wraps his arms around you. tucking you under his chin, keeping you flush against his chest. nice and still. 

and then he sighs. a blissful little breath, fatigue seeping out of him. into the air. 

“stay like this, for a bit,” he rasps. ”it’s okay.”

his heartbeat resounds in your ear. warm and rapid, like claps of thunder, coaxing you into closing your eyes. satoru has always felt so very safe. the water of the river is cold, seeping through the fabric of your clothing and sticking to your skin, but…

(he’s warm.)

silence. and then, a whisper; frail, slipping past his lips, gently slicing the silence in half. softer than you've ever heard him speak.

“i missed this.”

…

nuzzling into his neck, you breathe him in. he smells like sandalwood and dried roses, buzzing with warmth, heavy arms around your waist. solid. when did he get so big? you used to be taller. 

but that was a long time ago, now.

“… me too.”

“missed you,” he continues, his jaw on the top of your head. it’s a sincere confession; childlike in its innocence. “missed hearing you laugh like that. feels like it’s been so long.” 

you stay silent. unsure of what to say. satoru continues, and you let his husky voice carry you away, the tremor of his chest running through your entire body. soothing like a lullaby. 

”we haven't had much time together, lately. i’ve been worried,” he admits, and something about it strikes you as rather sheepish. a little ashamed. ”it bothers me that i can't be there to watch over you. make sure you're treated with respect, you know.”

a sleepy chuckle. muffled into his shoulder, almost a scoff — slightly exasperated. little droplets cling to his skin, sticking to your lips.

”relax, father,” you tease. ”i promise the other knights aren’t bullying me.” 

satoru pouts. you can hear it, when he speaks. ”i’m serious,” he exhales, squeezing you a little. ”and it’s not them i’m worried about. suguru’s there.”

another scoff threatens to escape your throat. you want to tell him the only knight that should be suspected of bullying you is suguru himself, but before you can even think to part your lips satoru beats you to it.

”they all treat you so carelessly.” there’s something cold to his voice, an irritation tugging at his teeth. oddly seething. ”like you exist to serve them. like you’re disposable.” 

a moment passes, heavy with a silence so thick you don’t dare break it. when he speaks again, it’s an order. a demand. 

”i want you to tell me if they go too far.”

silence. again. you can do nothing but gnaw at the flesh of your bottom lip. 

(he isn’t wrong. but that’s simply what it means to be a knight — half-human, half-weapon. an unattainable ideal. 

when a weapon breaks under the force of a slash, the only choice is to throw it away. that much you know.)

”it’s fine. i’m not that fragile,” you weakly protest, but it’s not enough. satoru huffs.

”you’re a human being,” he reminds you. strangely stern, for once. chastising. ”you deserve to be treated with respect. knight or not. fragile or not.”

a deep inhale. he breathes in, and the rise of his chest carries you with it. his voice buzzes with something, a slumbering kind of fury. one you haven’t heard in years. 

“if anyone gives you trouble — if anyone hurts you… if anyone makes you feel unsafe,” he almost spits the words, like they’re venomous, sacrilegious. a “tell me. i’ll destroy them.”

a chuckle.

that’s all you can manage; that one meek little breath. resisting the urge to cower, at the love that clings to every word he speaks. angered affection. a promise, dangerously genuine, like a growing wildfire.

”i can take care of myself,” you remind him. hoping it’ll soothe him. ”you know that.”

but his grip around you only tightens. gentle, even still. as if you’re made of glass, a firefly cupped in his palms. he lets the silence linger, for a moment.

and then; 

“i’d do it, you know.”

a questioning hum. “do what?” you ask, though some part of you already knows. 

satoru’s reply is instantaneous. an arrow hitting its target, cold and concise, decisive. frighteningly honest. almost a growl, flattened, a hint of teeth behind his soft lips. ”destroy them. anyone.”

”i’d tear this nation apart if you asked me to.”

…

(ah. that look in his eyes — one you remember well. strung together with blurred memories, the sting of a palm on your cheek, a castle maid you never saw again.)

you search for the words. biting back a gulp, hesitant. “… i wouldn’t.”

“i know.” satoru yawns, breathing you in, voice shifting back into the softness you’re so used to. your shoulders relax. “but i would. if that’s what you wanted.”

and it’s a little scary, the depths of his devotion. but you’re almost certain you’d do the same for him. maybe you're both a little sick in the head, a little too eager to serve your hearts on a silver platter.

“it bothers me, you know.” satoru breaks you out of your thoughts. gentle, a soft lull of his tongue. ”when you get hurt. when you fight for me.”

“i know,” you murmur. you’ve seen it in his eyes, a worry he’s not as good at hiding as he thinks. ”i want to, though.”

“and i want you to be safe.” a chuckle bubbles up in his throat, just a little bit rueful. “you never listen, do you? so stubborn, i swear. always worrying me.”

you bite down on your lip. he sounds… a little sad.

“… sorry.”

after a moment’s pause, he shakes his head. cradling you close. “it’s fine. i’m here. always,” his palm runs down the small of your back. ”in case anything happens.”

he inhales. ”and when i become king —” a beat. he swallows thickly. ”you’ll never have to worry again. no one will be able to touch you.”

”satoru,” you crack a small smile. amused. raising a single eyebrow. ”i’m not worried. i can protect myself.”

”i know. but i’m saying you don’t have to.”

and then he’s pulling back. just a little bit, just enough to see you. cheek smushed against his chest, comfortable and soft, more unguarded than he’s seen you these past few months. it’s enough to get his heart racing.

enough to have him reaching out, fingertips ghosting over your hand, tangling your fingers together. bringing it to his plump lips. a chaste kiss, brimming with devotion.

”— i’ll protect you forever,” he vows. ”remember?”

there’s devotion in his eyes. heavy, a vow he’ll never quite be able to voice in full. something that makes the blue of his eyes glow even brighter, cerulean, aquamarine, a blue so jarring it makes your heart beat faster than it should.

you blink. starstruck, caught in a daze, lost within that sea of blue. distracted by his warm breath on your cold skin, a soft whisper voiced against your knuckle. something shy blossoms in your chest, enough to have you averting your gaze. 

“.. you really don’t care about the dynamic here, do you?” is all you can reply. a meek scoff, a weak attempt at hiding how flustered you are. “i’m the knight. i’m your protector.”

“oh, i know.” a smile sticks to his lips, playful, the back of his hand caressing your cheek. a coo on his tongue. “my little hero. what would i ever do without you?”

a roll of your eyes. satoru chuckles. in the distance, you hear crickets chirping, a breeze rustling the lilac bushes all around you. he’s still cradling your cheek, smoothing over your wet skin, brushing a drop of water away with his thumb. clinging to your bottom eyelash.

“i don't get it, though.”

you blink. when you meet his eyes, satoru looks a little perplexed. muttering under his breath, absently rubbing circles over your cheekbone. you resist the urge to close your eyes again, and bite back a blissful sigh.

”a prince shouldn’t care for his knight…” he repeats, like he’s heard the string of words a million times before. ”the idea of that. i don’t understand it. never have.”

the smile that blossoms on his lips is soft, indescribably so, as if he’s looking at the most precious thing in his life. rich and warm, like wine in your veins, nectar on your tongue, a chest pressed against your own. dripping with fondness.

satoru tilts his head, as if in confusion — but he’s smiling. “what’s so strange about wanting to protect the one dearest to my heart?” 

…

his hand slips from your skin, a warmth leaving your cheek. only to search for your hand, again, cradling it in his larger palm. placing it right over his chest, against the soaked material of his blouse. ”feel that?”

you do. a rhythmic rise and fall, a soft flutter from the depths of his ribcage. as if it’s itching to break out, out of the cage that binds it, the hardened shell around it. a heart too big for his body.

”it’s you,” satoru whispers. ”all for you.”

a moment passes.

silently, you lean forward; tucking yourself into his neck. into that comforting warmth, wet skin beginning to dry, a steady thrum of his heart right by your ear. you listen. not saying a word, afraid of what might leave the confines of your strangled throat. it feels as if your heart has begun to crawl upwards, sweet honey blocking your airways, and all you can do it feel it pulse. 

all while satoru gazes at you, fondly. placing a big palm on the back of your head.

fireflies dance in the distance. strings of lilacs bloom under the glow of the moon. and satoru’s heartbeat never changes, never falls out of tune, a sound you would recognize even if the world were to end. the sound that saved you, the boy who dragged you out of hell. into his light. 

satoru gojo is everything. he’s the beat of your heart, the silver of your sword, the reason you believe in goodness. he’s your prince, your favorite person, and you’ll protect him until your very last breath. until the world runs out of oxygen.

a boy so sweet you’d die for him.

(a boy so sweet he wouldn’t want you to.)

a shiver runs down his spine — sudden, a shudder of his bones, and a quiet little sniffle. you feel it, hear it, and don’t attempt to bite back the fond smile that slips into the curve of your lips.

”c’mon,” you beckon, almost a coo, placing your palms on his chest to hoist yourself up. ”let’s go back.”

but satory shakes his head. and then he traps you again, strong arms around your waist, pressing you against him. you could escape — you’re almost certain you’re stronger — but you don’t quite have the heart to. ”it’s fine,” he huffs. almost a whine. ”stay.”

”you’ll get sick.”

”i never get sick.”

a deep exhale. tumbling from your lips, just a little bit humorous. mostly exasperated. ”that can change,” you mumble, fingertips tapping against his exposed skin.

a smile. one you can’t see, but you hear it clear as day. he sounds content, like he’s got everything he needs right in front of him. ”some things never change,” he hums. pleased. ”just look at us.”

and he’s right. so you don’t say anything else. 

but your heartbeat quickens, only for a beat or two, and you’re almost certain he feels it. if he does, he opts not to tease you for once, and you’re grateful. and so the silence lingers. as if time has begun to freeze, into an eternal dusk, a string of silent seconds. broken only by low melodic chirping from the faraway fields, soft breaths in your ear. 

until satoru suddenly chuckles.

“hey,” he hums, shifting a little, the river swaying around you. pulling back to meet your gaze, eyes crinkled and voice raspy. “wanna know a secret?”

you raise your head. a dubious look on your face, one that has him breathing out an amused puff of air, like you’re getting ready to hear a bad joke. “... what is it?”

before the words have fully left your throat, he’s resting his forehead against your own — breath fanning over your lips. a pleasant shiver trails down your spine, at the close proximity, goosebumps spreading across your chilled skin. only exacerbated by the whisper that follows, so quiet you almost don’t know if you heard him correctly. childlike in its sincerity. a sunlaced smile woven in between the vowels.

“i think i was born to meet you.”

(a sentiment so sweet you barely even feel the warmth of his lips meeting yours.)

[yoditorian]

a law divine - 1

soulmate au!ezra/reader

this is solely the fault of one single anon who called out something i put in the tags and now it’s a whole universe but you know what?? it’s the love of my life. anon i hope u see this 💛 i also just want to say i know there isn’t A Lot of soulmate talk in this one but it’s important for the narrative okay bear with me

playlist // series masterlist // main masterlist 

word count: 7.2k (a Big Boy)

warnings: swearing, my usual allusions to smut bc we keep things neutral in this house, brief food/alcohol mentions, 18+ please no babies

It might be the ugliest ship you’ve ever seen.

Not that you’re really one to judge, the one you charter out when you’re running point on a job is a mismatched patchwork of rusty panels held together with electrical tape and hope. If there’s the slightest possibility you might be a teeny tiny bit disappointed in it, it’s only because agency jobs are usually a little cushier. A little safer for once. You could do with a bit safer. 

Your family might prefer a lot safer, but you’d sooner take your chances in open space without a suit than take a job working scrapyards. At least risking your life on digs gets a decent payout.

“You the danger mouse?” 

It’s not an accent you hear often on the Pug, the majority of the station’s population is human, but you turn with a smile to meet the bright purple eyes of the Thanne. Armour-strong scales and sharp teeth, but he seems kind and mild mannered despite his clear predatory biology. You nod as you readjust the pack on your shoulders.

“I’m Iras.” He holds his hand out to you. A distinctly human gesture made a little awkward by the sharp edged scales and extra fingers, but you shake it nonetheless. He’s your captain for this job after all. You wonder where a Thanne became so well versed in human custom, the species as a whole tend to keep to themselves instead of branching out into the universe like so many others, until his crew members appear on the boarding ramp.

Iras gestures to each of them in turn. Summer, a blonde woman with dark skin and a kind smile, and Milo, an older man with a swirling tattoo above his left eyebrow that matches the navy blue of his eyes.

“Is it just us?” You ask. You could have sworn there was a fifth name on the manifest you’d been forwarded, but teams are always subject to change. You just hope you’ll have your own room.

“Ezra always leaves things down to the wire, he’ll show up right before we’re due to push out.” Summer laughs fondly, throwing an arm around your shoulders like she’s known you her whole life. You’re usually a little wary with brand new teams but the way she’s already chatting away makes you feel at home. The last agency job you were sent on got dicey, fast, somehow you’re sure the same won’t happen with this lot.

“There he is.” Milo leans out of the ship to point out into the docks. 

You turn to see a man sauntering through the throngs of harvesters towards the ship, and it’s odd. The rest of the crowd seems to melt away as he closes the distance, even the weight of Summer’s arm on your shoulders feels not quite there. You take the moment to study him. He looks all business with his dark hair and his charcoal grey shirt and the neat pack slung over his shoulder, but his pants and boots have seen better days and the streak of blonde at his temple makes you smile. It’s nice to finally be with a crew without a single stuffy addition. 

“It’s not often I get to congregate with like-minded souls.” He grins when he’s in earshot, a flash of something feline in his eyes. You don’t want to admit that you like it.

“Like-minded?” You tilt your head at him as you follow Summer up the ramp and into the ship. Ezra slips in behind you just as it starts to raise. Just like the others said.

“We’ve all got the same death wish, Sunspot.”

The launch, at least, is smooth despite the beaten up ship and it’s only about twenty minutes before you’re far enough from the Pug to punch a lane to the next system over. At least it isn’t far, there’s only a day between now and making planetfall. Somehow, you’re not surprised to find that it’s more of a barracks and bunk beds situation rather than each having a private quarters. Last time you were hired by the agency, you definitely got your own room. But it gives you a chance to chat with the others as you unpack. 

Milo explains the air isn’t breathable, so he’ll need to double check to make sure everyone’s filters are running at capacity. But he reassures you that it’s a comfortable temperature, so it’s good to know you won’t be sweltering in your suits or freezing your asses off. 

You pick the bed on the wall beside the door, taking out a few essentials from your pack and tucking the rest safely away in the storage compartment. Just as he did back at the docks, Ezra is the last to find his way to the room. He settles his things on the bunk opposite yours because the universe has it out for you, apparently. 

“Did I hear one of them call you the danger mouse?” 

You struggle not to roll your eyes at the nickname awarded to anyone stupid enough to do your job, although admittedly he doesn’t sound like he knows why. You offer him your name instead and pretend the way he rolls it around in his mouth doesn’t send a shock right down to your bones. You’re not in the habit of sleeping with colleagues, not until the job’s over at least. But you’d be lying if you said you’re not tempted.

“They call me in when a site’s unstable but too profitable to close.” You answer, tugging your sleeves up as the climate control settles to a comfortable temperature.

Ezra raises an eyebrow, waiting for you to continue, and you pull off your gloves. They land on your thin mattress as you hold your hands out between you. Not even the slightest twitch.

“Steadiest hands on the Pug.”

“So they are.” There’s a challenge in his voice that threatens to send a shiver up your spine. It’s clear he doesn’t doubt your skill in the field, but the return of that glint in his eye from the docks has you wondering exactly what else he’s thinking about as he studies your hands. It’s not hard to work out.

It’s been so long since you had to travel out of the system, you forgot how much inter-system lanes can fuck with the human brain. You’re half asleep for the thirty minutes you spend sorting your things for the morning, barely enough energy to change into the sweatpants and ratty t-shirt you call pyjamas, before you crawl into bed and settle down almost immediately.

Only you don’t get to sleep for as long as you’d like. The rest of the crew seem to have filtered in after you, the shift of sheets and snores float through the dimmed room. Except, it’s not just that. There’s shuffling and bed creaking from further down the line of bunks. A hushed giggle sounds in the silence and-

 Oh god. Oh no.

They’re not. They can’t be, they- they are. 

You’re very awake all of a sudden, eyes wide as you keep them firmly on the ceiling and wishing as hard as you can for an alarm to start beeping or something. Anything to get whoever’s banging Summer to stop. A deep voice hushes her when she laughs again. Iras. Knowing is somehow worse. The mechanics- you don’t even want to think about it. 

You turn onto your side slowly, but loud enough to hint that maybe they should find somewhere else for their escapades, and fold your pillow around your head as a kind of makeshift set of earmuffs. Whether they’ve quieted down or it muffles the noise, you’re not sure, but it seems to have worked enough. You catch Ezra’s eye in the almost-darkness, much in the same position as he holds his pillow over his own ears. 

It’s embarrassing for the both of you, even as you share a conspiratorial look. But somehow, it’s less awkward to have to hear Iras and Summer going at it when you know he’s awake. He winces when a particularly loud squeak echoes through the room, and it takes everything in you not to bust out laughing. You fall asleep again eventually, making faces at Ezra in the dark until neither of you can keep your eyes open anymore.

You’re surprisingly well rested come the morning, when the whole ship jolts as it punches into the system and you’re almost thrown out of bed. So much so that it’s easy to forget that you woke up at all until you shuffle into the main living compartment of the ship. One of the crates by the wall has been cracked open, Milo hands out granola bars for breakfast.

Summer and Iras are sitting in the same chair, feeding each other, and it might be cute if you’d been awake longer and hadn’t been woken up by their activities in the middle of the night. You slump into a free chair,  face twisted in disgust for a moment. You’re pretty sure nobody else sees until Ezra laughs and drops into the seat beside you. They’re nice people, from how they took you as a friend immediately, but that doesn’t change the fact that it’s just a bit much for your perpetually single heart to take. 

“It’s a week-long job, they can’t take a break?” You watch as they finally pry themselves apart to start, you know, actually working. But not without a genuinely gross kiss that definitely toes the line of public decency. Suddenly the half-eaten bar in your hand isn’t all that appealing anymore.

“Soulmates take no breaks, Sunspot. I’m sure yours would be hard pressed to be anywhere but in bed with you whenever they get the chance.” Ezra winks and it takes you a moment to remember where you are. A glance at the pair makes your new knowledge obvious, the way they seem to be touching, even now, on opposite sides of the room. 

“I’m not sure I believe in all that red string stuff.”

Once the ship is safely landed a short walk from the site, the days you spend digging pass with ease. The deposit is a decent size, it takes all five of you to cover it completely, and the payout should be enough to keep you all comfortable for a little while even with the agency’s cut. The crew around you fill the time enough that you barely notice the week coming to a close. 

Summer sings in the mornings as she cleans her equipment and readies her pack for the day. Miles talks gently to the cells as though they can hear him, shushing them any time he worries a gem might corrupt. Iras seems to have a secret superpower when it comes to the ration packs, they always taste better when he’s the one on lunch duty. And Ezra spends the afternoons regaling you all with tales of ancient beasts, laying eggs that fossilise into the very gems you’re harvesting. Although you’re not sure how true they are. 

You almost get through the whole dig without a hitch. Almost. But aurelac is a tricky thing, even a change in the wind can turn a site for the worst. You’re all sitting around at lunch when it happens. The telltale smoke wafts up into the air for no visible reason at all and although you’ve collected enough to cover the quota, you’d still rather not lose viable gems.

“Get to what you came here for.” Iras gestures in your direction and you dive into the pit head first.

You’re not even sure you stop to think as you follow the harvesting steps at lightning speed, salvaging half the corrupted cells before someone tugs you out by the collar of your suit. The rest of the site starts to smoke the moment you’re out of range, spitting and hissing and rendering the rest of the gems worthless. 

“Danger mouse indeed.” Ezra chuckles over the comm system, hand still fisted in the fabric of your suit. For once, the nickname makes you smile.

While you all go your separate ways after the ship has docked back on the Pug, Summer makes you all promise to meet later at a club you’ve only heard of in your friends’ messy night out stories. Still, you pinky swear when she holds her hand out to you and try to remember if you have a single item in your wardrobe that’ll pass as club attire. Or at least something that isn’t so worn there are holes in it. 

Even if it’s a song he knows, there’s no chance that Ezra could recognise it with the volume cranked so high through the cheap speaker that everything but the beat is distorted. Still, it doesn’t stop people from dancing. 

He’s a little late, as usual, but he doesn’t need to worry as Iras appears behind him and claps a hand on his shoulder, pointing to a booth across the room where Milo is looking increasingly uncomfortable.

It doesn’t take long for Ezra to spot you and Summer in the middle of the dance floor, as he follows Iras around the edge of the space to the booth Milo’s claimed. You’re both more jumping than dancing, yelling the unintelligible lyrics of the song into each other's faces. He can’t hear your breathless laughter as Summer spins you in a circle, smile wide and bright, but he can feel it in his ribs. The drums of the song kick in at the same time the swirling lights of the club light you up like some kind of celestial being, just as you catch his eye through the crowd. And everyone else disappears. The rest of the world, rest of the universe, fades into the background. Just like they did the first time he saw you, glaring suspiciously at the ship on the docks.

Summer’s dragging you back to the table when the song comes to a close, the both of you out of breath and laughing, and Ezra has to try desperately to remember how to speak when he watches a little bead of sweat slide down the side of your neck. And stop himself from just licking a line straight up it. His silent suffering only increases when Milo holds out a shot of the most potent alcohol the Pug has to offer and you down it without so much as a flinch, winking at him when you return the glass to the table for good measure. 

Milo calls it a night only an hour later, clearly only having braved the crowds of the club to celebrate the job. Summer and Iras are tangled in each other on the dancefloor, or the booth, as they keep the shots coming. You, at least, decide to keep your wits about you, declining every drink after the one Milo had handed you. Nobody’s going to fuck with a Thanne, even in as seedy a club as this, so you don’t worry about Summer as she gets sloppier and sloppier. But there’s no spiky non-human boyfriend looking out for you down here, it’s just you and the knife you keep at your hip.

You pull yourself from the dance floor, eyes tracking the room for the missing member of your party, until you feel a set of eyes on you from above. Ezra’s leaning on the bannister of the stairs, his unflinching gaze set solely on you. And you can’t help but smile. You follow him up to the mezzanine without hesitation when he glances upwards and back to you. The buzz of the shot has mostly faded from your veins, replaced by something much more dangerous by the way he’s looking at you. The way he’s looked at you since you met him.

It’s not hard to spot your friends from up here, leaning over the barrier with Ezra to people watch. He crafts stories about every stranger who catches his eye. The man hunched over the bar in a beaten up jacket, the waitress who fiddles with her necklace any time her hands aren’t occupied, the pair of lovers tucked away in the dark corner on the other side of the mezzanine. You find yourself sliding closer to him the more he talks, wrapped up in the warmth of his voice even in the rundown club. Your shoulder knocks into his as you mindlessly bop to the music and listen to his made up stories. Utterly enchanted. It’s hard to remember a time when you felt this way with anybody, if you ever did at all. To tell the truth, it’s hard to remember anyone before Ezra. And neither of you have even made a move yet.

He's got his arms braced on the barrier, and you find yourself lifting the one closest to you so you can slip in between them. Surrounded on all sides and you couldn’t feel more comfortable. To his credit, he doesn’t falter in his vivid storytelling about the group now settled in the booth your crew had claimed earlier, not even a stutter as you turn in his arms to face him. He’s decided they’re here to celebrate the beginning of a new job, rather than a successful harvest. His eyes flick to you for the barest moment, enough to notice yours are firmly focused on the way his lips move around his words, before searching the club below for another story. Another way to keep his mind and mouth occupied so he doesn’t accidentally admit all the sinful things he wants to do to you when you press your ass up against him like that. 

“Ezra.”

He shouldn’t be able to hear you over the music, but you’re nose to nose and he’d be hard pressed to ignore the way you practically purr his name. He’s expecting you to make another flirty comment in that voice that sends his mind reeling into all manner of indecent places the same way you have been all night.

“Can I kiss you?”

He doesn’t expect you to just outright ask him. 

“Yeah.” Yeah. Hell of a time for his eloquence to fail, not that it matters anyway. You’re on him the moment he stops speaking.

It’s like the sun explodes inside him, the way his stomach bottoms out the second your lips touch his. There’s nothing soft about it, not the way he might have imagined there would be. If he’d been so bold as to let himself imagine what kissing you might be like. You’re all warmth and heat and you still taste a little bit like the shot you’d thrown back earlier, and he finds himself falling. Not that Ezra minds, he hopes his parachute never opens if it means you’ll keep kissing him like this. 

You let your fingers roam under his jacket, twist themselves in the thin fabric of his t-shirt, and you sigh into his mouth. God, you knew he’d be good at this. His hands leave a trail of starlight as they trace over your body, never quite choosing a place to rest. They start to settle on your shoulders, only to skim down your arms and squeeze harshly on your waist, to play along the strip of skin he finds just underneath the hem of your shirt, to grip harder than he might mean to onto the meat of your ass through your pants. You gasp, break the kiss for barely a moment, and stop his apology in its tracks. 

He doesn’t protest when you walk him backwards, still groping at each other like it’s just the two of you in the whole club. Ezra only groans when his back hits the wall and you push even closer into him, as if there was even any space left for air between your bodies already. He’s not about to complain. He could kiss you for a thousand years and it still wouldn’t be enough. It’’ll never be enough, not for a soul as hungry as his. You pull back too soon, far too soon, and it takes a solid minute for his brain to kick in and break the vice grip he still has a little too low for the public eye.

Oh, that look on your face. He’s in trouble.

“Where are you off to?” Ezra asks, flushed and breathless, a hand stretched halfway out to where you’re backing toward the stairs.

“Home,” You say with a sly smile, “You coming?”

He can’t push off the wall fast enough. 

You don’t live far from the club, a ten minute walk at the most, but Ezra manages to make it a solid twenty with the way he keeps pulling you to him. Not that you’re about to complain. You’ve been waiting a week to let him get his hands on you. At the press of his lips on your neck, the shudder it sends down your spine, you wonder if part of you has been waiting even longer than that. 

You’re trying, desperately, to type in the keycode to your apartment. If Ezra could calm down with the grabby hands, you might have gotten it right straight away. 

“No roommates?” He asks, kissing along your shoulder, and you take the temporary reprieve to kick your brain into gear and remember the fucking numbers. 

“Hugo won’t be too upset if I make him sleep on the couch.” 

The door slides back into the wall to reveal a dark apartment, a strip of light from the hall falling on a very orange cat. He stares at you for a second, clearly not particularly pleased that he’s been so rudely roused from a nap, before he settles back to sleep stretched out on the couch cushions. Hugo. Ezra is silently relieved that the roommate is just a cat, he’s not sure he’s got the self control to stay quiet tonight. Or to make sure you do. 

You waste no time once you gesture for Ezra to walk in ahead of you, flicking the switch on the wall to slide the door shut and pulling him back to your lips. He doesn’t hesitate to crowd you up against the cold metal. 

Although you could devour each other until the closest sun explodes and swallows the station whole, Ezra has to break away. To think, to breathe, to tease you a little about the moan he just swallowed from you. But you beat him to it.

“Gotta catch your breath?” The smile on your face threatens to make his knees buckle, and with you pressed up against the closed door the way you are? He might just let them. 

“What do you want, Sunspot?” 

You left a lamp on in your bedroom, the door cracked just enough to let a little filter through to the main living space. Still, he’s almost completely silhouetted against the warm yellow glow. As if he’s some kind of ethereal being, maybe he is.

“Make me see the stars.” You pull him in as close as you can and let your lips brush over his as you whisper. His next words make you shudder almost as much as the way he drags the zipper of your jacket down, slowly, tooth by tooth. 

“As you wish.” 

And boy, does he deliver.

You’re expecting things to feel more unfamiliar than they do, as you explore each other for the first time, but it’s like you’ve been here before. Once, twice, a hundred times before. Every move feels oddly choreographed. Ezra knows exactly how to take you apart and put you back together again, the way he pulls every twitch and moan out of you so expertly. You’re no different, as your fingers map the plains of his chest like it’s muscle memory. 

You shake it off, put the thoughts to the back of your mind. You’ve been around the block a little in your time on the Pug, it only makes sense that he has the same kind of experience. But shared experience or not, you can’t deny how much having him so close feels like a homecoming of sorts.

It’s the best sleep of your whole fucking life and, honestly, you’re not that surprised. Ezra makes a damn good pillow. Even if you both wake hours later into the day cycle than either of you normally would. Even if he’s more of a morning person than you are. It’s kind of nice, to sit still snuggled in your pile of blankets and watch him potter around your apartment as Hugo winds around his ankles like he’s been there for years. 

Your fridge, however, is heartbreakingly empty and renders his offer of making breakfast pointless. Instead, he pulls his shirt on and offers to take you to the best little diner he knows, tucked away in the heart of the marketplace. It’s a hard offer to turn down.

“What kind of gentleman would I be to have so much income at my disposal and not treat such a beauty as yourself to a good meal?” He winks as he flashes his credit chit at you as if you didn’t scan in for your paychecks at the same time. You laugh as you empty a food pouch into Hugo’s bowl, and tell him he better show you all the good breakfast spots. You shrug off his raised eyebrow and mutters of a ‘next time’. As if he didn’t already know.

Still, Ezra takes you by the hand the moment your apartment door secures itself shut behind you, leading you through the hall and out into the street, and you’ve never felt more wanted.

It’s like everything’s brighter, walking leisurely through the bustling market stalls with Ezra. The smells are stronger as spices in the air cling to your nose, the cacophony of vendors calling out almost sounds like music, and you start to laugh. Hand in his, in the middle of the maze of stalls full of food and tools and trinkets. As if it’s just the two of you in the whole universe. 

At least Ezra doesn’t look back at you like you’re crazy. He smiles too, just as big, and you feel bathed in warmth the same as when the sun comes out planetside.

You’re both still grinning when he leads you deeper through the market, down an alley and up a flight of stairs to an unassuming door.

“Is this where you murder me?” You joke just as the door opens to reveal a short older woman with an eyepatch, who pulls Ezra down into a tight hug as soon as he’s in arms reach. He introduces her as Merse, the woman who’s run the best diner no one’s ever heard of on the whole station. She slaps his arm for his cheek, but her grin grows twice as wide when she spots your intertwined hands. 

Ezra pulls you through the doorway after him as he follows Merse, chatting about how she always keeps the best table open just in case he brings a friend and you try not to smile too wide when she wiggles her eyebrows at you. He says something to you, but you’re too distracted by the view from the big windows. 

The far wall is completely glass, overlooking the main docks, lined with booths. A small family sits in one of them, their two children standing up on the seats to watch the ships come and go. You’ve never seen it from this angle before, always down in the masses and scanning the boards for new jobs. It’s kind of beautiful. In a rusty, patchwork sort of way.

Merse points you towards one of the booths with a promise that she’ll bring you the best breakfast you’ll ever have, something tells you she’s not lying. 

It’s not long after you slide into the booth that she comes marching out of the kitchen with two plates, wafting steam that makes your mouth water and your stomach rumble. Rice and vegetables and eggs and all sorts of things you’ve never even seen pile high, and you’d worry you wouldn’t be able to finish it all if you weren’t so hungry. 

“You know I won’t break, right?” You push your fork around in the remaining rice on your plate as you watch Ezra absorb your words. He thinks about it for a long moment, dark eyes over you before settling on your own.

“What’s this about?” He knows, you know he knows. More importantly, you know he’s going to make you say it. In the middle of the day cycle, in this family friendly diner. 

“Just,” You exhale sharply, “Making sure you’re aware.” Your body floods with a shyness that’s alien compared to the confidence you had last night and suddenly, your breakfast is the most interesting thing on the Pug. You can practically feel him smiling at you, but you don’t dare look up to meet it. 

He was right though, the food really is some of the best you’ve ever had.

It’s not until you’ve wandered back through the market, still hand in hand, and found your way back to your apartment that Ezra decides to bring it up. He may have been more than a little distracted last night, but he’s sure he spotted a set of old books sitting on a shelf above your couch. You freeze, ready to go on the defensive about how ink and paper will never be obsolete, until you realise he’s genuinely interested. He’s not judging you by any means. Something about the curiosity shining in his eyes makes your heart flutter more than you care to admit. 

He could watch you talk about your books all day, every day, for the rest of his life. How your eyes lit up when you recognised his interest, a paperback lover himself. You can’t seem to stop yourself as you dive into the intricate details of your favourite classics, two or three hundred year old texts that make you feel like you’ve lived a thousand different lives at once. He wants so badly for you to keep talking but the more impassioned you become, the more he wants to kiss you.

You trail off at some point, he loses track when you climb into his lap to point out notes you’ve made in margins and the books lie scattered on the couch beside you as you kiss him until neither of you can breathe. You’re still a little achy from last night, deep in your bones, and you hiss when his teeth scrape across your shoulder.

“Won’t break, is that right?” Ezra chuckles darkly and nips at your jaw, “Can I try?”

“Please.”

You wake at the creak of your bedroom door, sometime in the early hours. Hugo noses his way through the narrow gap and hops up onto the bed, curling up on the unclaimed pillow by your head. Ezra sleeps deeply, face buried in your neck, and you let the warmth of him wash over you. It ebbs and flows like a tide, that familiarity. The undeniable fact that something about this just feels right. You’ve known this man a week and yet you’re here wondering, as he rests in your arms, if he might want more than just this with you. 

Oh, but you are so afraid. Afraid to put a name to anything about him because what then? Will he tell you that you’re simply a placeholder in his life for something better, or that his heart might bleed through his skin when you’re apart? You’re not sure which is worse. Not that it matters, there is no word in any language that would be able to explain exactly how you feel about the man asleep in your arms. It’s enough, you think, to have him with you at all. In any capacity. Whatever pieces of his soul he bares as your breathing evens and his mind wanders. That is enough, and you will protect it with your life.

You have to part ways at some point, of course. Another week of rolling around in your bed sheets together, on the couch, on your pitiful kitchen counter, up against the wall, and Ezra gets a call from the agency. It’s a last minute job, the crew only need an extra set of hands to fit the safety standards, but it’s several systems out from the Pug. It’ll take him away for at least a month. You trail after him at the docks, with promises of messages in his absence and all manner of unsavoury activities on his return. It’s with a deep kiss and a wolf whistle from a couple of dock workers on their break, that you wish him luck. And ask him to hurry back.

Summer’s message surprises you when it dings through on your tablet. Some gajillionaire on Dallore T53 has found an aurelac deposit on the grounds of his new estate and wants it gone. She’s preoccupied, already out on another dig with Iras and a new crew. But it’s the kindness of her even thinking to offer it to you that makes your heart swell. It’s been a while since you’ve had real, honest to god, friends. 

You’d go in alone, normally, for something like this. But now? Now, you’re punching in Ezra’s comm pin before you can even really register what it is that you’re doing. He only got back a week ago, and you made him settle in back home before he could settle in yours. It’s not like the two of you would be doing any resting on his return to your apartment, exactly. The job was a pain, he’d told you, it ran months longer than anyone expected and you’re sure he’s still exhausted. He won’t agree, but you find you have to ask. Just in case.

“Sunspot?” He sounds happy, rested. And you breathe a sigh of relief, at least he can follow your orders when he wants to.

Hugo snakes around your ankles at the familiar voice, the same way he does any time the man himself walks through the door. If you didn’t know that the little orange devil’s alliances lie in who feeds him, you might think he loves him more than you. 

You explain about the job, make sure to stress that he doesn’t have to come. That you don’t even really need to take it if he’d rather you stay close by. Okay, you don’t say that out loud, but the smile you hear in his words through the speaker makes it known that he’s heard you. Loud and clear. 

It doesn’t matter in the end, not when he accepts before you even have a chance to give him any details. You don’t know why you were so worried he might say no.

“Any excuse to be warmed by your light, Sunspot.” Hugo brushes up against your leg at the same time Ezra’s voice practically drips through the speaker, smooth as honey.

“Is that a euphemism?”

“Do you want it to be?”

You choke on your breath and he laughs like you’ve told the funniest joke in the universe. He’ll kill you one of these days, you’re sure of it.

You charter the ship you usually take on private jobs, the space a little smaller than you remember with another person on board, but it’s not like either of you aren’t used to being in close quarters with each other by now. At least Ezra has the decency not to be mean about the beaten up exterior, she still flies true. He’d grinned at that, told you how a rough outside often means the opposite of the interior mechanics. The glint in his eye is enough to know he’s not just talking about the ship. 

At least the planet is in the same system as the Pug, so there’s no need to punch through to a lane. You fly in silence for a few hours, the familiar feel of the controls under your fingers as you guide it through the sky. Ezra’s eyes remain firmly on you although you pretend as though you don’t notice, and it takes him a moment to come back to the present when you ask him to flick a few switches and prepare to enter the atmosphere. 

The coordinates the client gave you to land are only a short walk from the house itself, a great stone castle-looking thing. It’s kind of ugly, the way the limestone juts out above the treeline. A big white block among the rich reds and oranges of the leaves. They grow that colour all year round, perpetually stuck in spring and summer. It must be nice to have the kind of money to find somewhere like that and decide you’ll build a house there. The air is breathable, and a quick look at the planet file proves it’s never too hot or too cold. A perfect place to build a house really. Although, if it were you making that kind of decision, you’d maybe go for a design that’s a little less cubist. 

The deposit isn’t huge, but it’ll be a good payout nonetheless providing the cells are all in good nick. You and Ezra wade through swathes of long grass and wildflowers until you find a spot to set up camp. At least you’re not stuck in bulky suits and having to lug around your equipment.

You couldn’t have asked for a more perfect dig if you’d tried. Each of the cells sit far enough away from each other that even if one were to fail, it wouldn’t corrupt a whole mess of the others. Although with both of your talents, it doesn’t surprise you when you collect every last crystal without a single misstep.

You’d told Ezra the profit would be split down the middle, equal pay for equal work. But it doesn’t stop him from sliding an extra gem into your pack to cover the ship charter. After all, you’re the one who was offered the job in the first place. He’s just following his heart, the one that walks around outside of his body and throws itself into deposits mid-corruption.

You hold one of the little gems aloft in the sunlight and watch as it sparkles.

“I used to think it was weird how rabid people go for these. But the more I dig the more I get it, isn’t it the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen?”

Ezra tilts his head like he’s studying the rock, but his dark eyes don’t leave yours.

“It’s a close second.”

Sap.

Night falls before either of you realise just how late it is, clearing out the last few cells of the deposit. It’s not worth going back to the Pug now, he reasons, and you find it hard to disagree. The ache of the few days you’ve spent digging has settled deep in your muscles, the thought of having to run through docking procedure when you’re so tired is enough to make you wince. 

You let him take you for all you’re worth under the watchful eye of the heavens, and find there’s more stars behind your eyelids than you could ever hope to see in the skies. It’s all you can do to cry out the name of the only god to ever make you feel this holy. Ezra. 

He wakes with the sun, the same way he always has on jobs, to find you curled so tightly against him that it bubbles up from his toes all the way to his throat and he finds his eyes threatening to spill over. Everything in the universe seems to slot so perfectly together when you’re like this. Ezra sighs, content to never let the moment end. You are so beautiful.

He shifts up onto his elbow a little, still cradling you against him, and lets his free hand trail softly over your face. Tracing the shell of your ear, the curve of your cheekbone, the bridge of your nose. The dawn’s sunlight breaks over the trees and filters through the fabric of the tent, bathing you in soft green light. He could stay here, holding you, until the universe implodes. Ezra doubts he’d notice such an insignificant thing with you beside him. 

But end it must, and he rouses you gently with soft whispers and kisses against your temple. You stretch in his arms, not unlike Hugo, and sigh as your joints pop and settle. Packing up happens slowly, moving around each other so naturally it’s as though you’ve done it a thousand times before. Every time Ezra passes, you drop a kiss wherever you can reach. His shoulder, the arm of his jacket, that little patch on his jaw. He pretends not to blush when you catch his hand and carefully press your lips to the little tattoo between his thumb and index finger, you pretend not to notice when he does.

You’ll be the death of him, he’s sure of it. The way you keep watching him out of the corner of your eye, the way your smile is so bright when he catches you that he can barely stand to look at it. With the tent and equipment packed up, his fingers itch to thread through your own as you start the walk back to the ship, there’s not a word in the universe strong enough to describe just how much he hates that both his and your hands are too full.

It’s odd, thinking about it. How you met by pure chance, hired by the agency just because you were on the same station at the same time. Would he have ever met you if you’d chosen a different career path, if he had? Maybe somewhere, centuries before or after this moment, where you’re meeting again. Different lives, different times, spanning across all of existence. Maybe, right here and now, you’re starting to feel the way he does about you. Just a little. Maybe he’ll get up the courage to ask what you think, how far you want to take things. He’d give himself to you in a heartbeat, without question. In a way, he already has.

Ezra can’t stop himself.

“What do you make of the red string of fate?”

“All you’ve seen of the universe and you still believe in soulmates?” 

“Maybe I’m more foolish that I made myself out to be.” He shrugs, trying not to let his eyes fall to the little finger of his right hand. Trying not to clench his fist to show you exactly how much your disbelief affects him down to his bones, as though his soul itself is frowning. You’re smiling. Uncharacteristically quiet, but you seem appropriately pleased by his answer and stray a little further out into the long grass.

Curiosity gets the better of you.

“Can you see yours?” You have to call out across the gap you’ve unintentionally created, yellow stalks swishing in the breeze between you, and for a moment you’re not sure he heard.

Ezra looks at his right hand, at the thin red string tied neatly at the knuckle of his little finger, and follows the line as it threads through the grass to where it’s knotted at your left. 

“No.” 

TAGLIST (add yourself here):

@bee-dameron @keeper0fthestars @thevoiceinyourheadx @firstofficerwiggles @1800-fight-me @ew-erin @chatterbean @gotta-have-faye​ @freeshavocadoooo​ @darnitdraco​ @greeneyedblondie44​ @fire-is-catching-always

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

(curtains unveil to find me laying face down on the ground) im normal abt this.

mickey!! i need u to know that literally every single time u elaborate on this au i fall deeper into the pit PSJDJFJ IM …… im jus. obsessed w them. also i am extremely sleepy so this might be a lil incoherent but i wanted to answer this so bad hhh ive been busy but mickey>>>uni fr

ANYWAY ANYWAY

THEIR ROOM. YES . literally exactly how i pictured it hehe the atmosphere is sooo vivid!!! AND ;;;;;;;; im drooling. sorry. im drooling though. SATOSUGU BEING ALL COVERED IN MARKS PJSKSJDK (explodes). yea. and reader being a tease not letting the boys mark them up too much ….. its sooo obvious that they have the control here and its so?!??? my brain is being fried . deep boiled . im in love w vamp!reader. THE LIPSTICK STAINS TOO my greatest weakness……

AND AND AND SUGU!!!!! mickey!sugu how i love u so…… u should feel SO confident abt writing him bc everytime u say anything at all abt his character im just like Yep Yeah Thats Him. a kitty who found his perfect home 😭😭 IM CRYING HES SO…. and him reading on the couch!!! my (other) greatest weakness…. reader playing w his hair I NEED IT SO BAD MICKEY i need to be inbetween them.

AND THEN THE ACTS OF SERVICE TOOOOO hes so caring so doting so devoted :((( aaaa i can rlly imagine him being soso attentive to reader’s tastes like i imagine that theyre a little picky? snobby maybe?? so sugu just makes The perfect cup of coffee tailored to their likes and dislikes and something abt that just makes me want to eat him alive

TYSM FOR ELABORATING ON READER/SUGU their dynamic is so interesting!!!!! . im so relieved that they genuinely do love him and see him as a partner i dunno if my fragile psyche could handle the angst…. BUT reader gosh. i think their character is so interesting …. like just leaving a bunch of new vampires to die i LOVE my characters morally dubious <333 and seeing humans as below them BUT also caring for the maids and butlers??? THATS SO SWEET 🥺🥺

aaaa but sugu’s reaction ….. him being nervous hhhh :(((( he doesnt know what a fucking steal he is im so heartbroken. IM SO GLAD U LIKE THE JEALOUSY IDEA like ….. obv my stsg mindset is like ”sugu is infatuated w gojo and wants to put him in a blender so he can drink him” but i feel like there’d be some tension there …. he rlly is like a loyal housecat that gets hissy bc his owner brought in a new kitty . smh smh.

ALSO UR TAGSSSSSS GOJO W GLASSES GOJO W GLASSES mickey im spinning u around can u feel it. hes perfect. hes so cute. i want to chew at his bones. READER RCALLING HIM GOOD BOY ;;;;;;;; THEY WOULD THEY REALLY WOULD ohhhhh he’d literally be so giddy……. kicking his feet and giggling . (i wonder if sugu would get jealous at this too LMAOO like hes good at hiding it but his eye just . Twitches. bc hes no longer the only good boy in the house . silly man <3)

N THEN FINALLY!! the songs!!!! i KNEW i forgot to do smth when i rbd this last time hhh. BUT ANYWAY i gave them all a good listen and!!!

closer - nine inch nails

u already know i approve of this one but ill say it again ITS SO GOOD IT FITS THE VIBE SO WELL im insane abt it . this song just scratches my brain its soooo <33 my whole existence is flawed // you get me closer to god <- THIS MAKES ME THINK OF SUGU AND READER im soooo obsessed w them mickey. you can have my absence of faith // you can have my everything THIS TOO AUGHHHHH IM . 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫

im sorry but im literally physically incapable of thinking abt sugu w/o being like yeahhh his devotion borders on worship <33 he sees his love as a kind of Faith <3333 hes so abnormal but also so sweet i just think he’d jump into traffic if reader asked bc his existence is just so wired to tend to their every request

i drink the honey // inside your hive // you are the reason // i stay alive <- THIS ONE TOO im genuinely soooo enamored w them they mean the world to me theyre the only couple ever

glory box - portishead

THIS ONNEEEEEEEE MICKEY 😥😥😥😥😥 ohhhhhh the instrumental the vibes this one is SO vamp!reader its crazy like the elegant rich mysterious vibe …. that murky kind of nostalgia ohhh i am a weak weak individual. i feel like theyd have this playing from a fancy recorder or something its such a powerful song but also so classy yk

keep your eyes peeled - ultra sunn

THIS IS ANOTHER ONE THAT JUST SCRATCHES MY BRAIN… the repetition is so haunting this one is just sooo …. i cant explain it but i can see the vamp!reader and vamp!sugu edits in my head LMAO

tear you apart - she wants revenge

OHHH THIS SONG IS SO GOOD … huge journalist!gojo x vamp!reader vibes….. what she walked in, he froze up, believe it’s the fright // it’s cute in a way, till you cannot speak…. it’s only just a crush, it'll go away // or maybe this is danger and he just don't know… like the danger mixed w the adoration and then the obsession hhhh …. also just the violence bleeding together w the tenderness LIKE

i want to hold you close // soft breasts, beating heart // as i whisper in your ear // i want to fucking tear you apart

yeahhhhhhhhhhh ……

le monde - richard carter

I STARTED SHAKING I FELL TO MY KNESS yeah. yeah. this is the one. the vibes of this one will always gut me it feels like a really dangerous erotically charged waltz it was made for this au i think . i can SO see reader waltzing w their boys btw sugu is so effortlessly good at it but gojo trips over his fucking feet PHSJDBDV (reader thinks its cute though <333)

and then maybe gojo asks sugu to practice w him bc he doesnt wanna embarrass himself yknow ………… sugu’s hand on his waist guiding him, keeping eye contact and the close proximity is making him feel more nervous then he thought it wou (brain shuts off) I LOVE THEM SM MICKEY would love to hear more abt their dynamic in this :3

MICKEY this came to me in a vision and i need to hear ur thoughts but…. for the vamp!geto x human!gojo x vamp!reader au………. 👉👈 mary by alex g. what r we thinking ;;;;; IM JUST. 

mary is the girl that i wanna kiss // she’s got big red eyes and big red lips // she’s got big sharp teeth and big fat hips …….. give it to me, baby, i feel good // i wanna feel whatever you think i should ………. AM I GETTING THE VIBES RIGHT ARE THEY THERE…… mary is the girl that leaves you to rot …………. they have consumed me genuinely

HIIIIIIIIIIII ARIII!!!! omg i love that song................ (alex g oughta start paying for my therapy smh) at first i had more darker songs in mind cue closer by nine inch nails and glory box by portishead and keep your eyes peeled by ultra sunn BUTTTTT when i this i immediately thought about their 'morning after' - i can totally see it playing in the background when gojo AND geto are lazing on the massive bed and the reader is getting ready and both of the boys are just staring at them with hearts in their eyes just absolutely awestruck

i think in geto's and reader's relationship the reader takes more of a lead yk they bit sugu anyway too. geto acts tough AND HE DEFINITELY CAN BE TOUGH but when it comes to the reader he can't help but be soft, let them do whatever. "she's the only girl i wanna love" i'm also thinking that reader helped geto out of a bad place with the bite too

with gojo it's definitely the "give it to me, baby, i feel good // i wanna feel whatever you think i should" he's sooooooooooo bewitched for him at first it's so much about the curiosity and the pleasure and the fun of it and he's ready to do whatever the readers wants

"mary is the girl that leaves you to rot" maybe the reader is a bit of a collector? both of the boys wanna impress them so much bc they're a little afraid that they'll leave them behind and find new toys to play with?

[greengay]

Ah, yes, that uhhhh as an Instagram post is truly bizarre and I hope he’s okay. Also I thought I knew a decent amount about Adie but lmao daughter of a pastor… Huh. Yeah that explains a lot of republican lite vibes I’ve been getting agshdkjsjsj

Me too...

And tbh I wouldn't go as far as to say republican-lite, but I do think she's just kind of your average wealthy liberal mom lol (hypothesized bedroom antics notwithstanding lmao)

she follows a lot of black & environmental & animal activism accounts, which puts her a above a lot of liberals imo, i just don't think she's, like, a radical leftist or anything lol

the j*** situation is....... i think it's just a whole separate can of worms and a very specific circumstance. and people are free to make an opinion of her based on how she handled that, but personally, I'm withholding judgment because

1) I've never been a mother and I don't know if I can really fully understand the full extent of a loving mother-son bond, but I imagine the protectiveness runs deep... like, I had a friend who accidentally got pregnant and she has never ever ever wanted to be a mother, and she knew, logically, that it would be terrible for both her and the baby..... but there was a part of her that still wanted to go through with it (she did end up going through with abortion though)..... hormones be CRAZY like that..... it's like.... biologically hard-wired into mothers cos, yk, they're the ones birthing their children 2) we don't know how much adie knows. maybe j*** painted a whole different picture of the situation to her. i do know (from a letter posted on reddit that c*le b*cker sent to a fan) that lydia's parents were aware of the relationship, and lydia was careful to word her post in a way that didn't directly incriminate them (but she never technically lied). and, like, yeah of course she wouldn't want to draw attention to that... they're her parents and she has a sense of loyalty to them. BUT. i can see how, from adie's perspective, that it came off as not telling the truth. and it also helps that even though lydia is a victim and I personally 100% believe her, she's not a perfect victim. like... she's kind of a mean girl lol. i mean, i don't even personally like her as a person. but that doesn't mean she didn't experience emotional abuse and sexual coercion from someone in a position of power over her. 3) billie has talked about how one of his biggest values is handling things privately... like if him and mike/tre are ever fighting, they would never publicly say anything. and I assume that value extends to adie, so she was probably particularly affronted/"betrayed" by the callout (i personally think lydia was justified completely, but that's a different post) 4) i don't think she understood the backlash to lydia's post was also everyone mad at the hypocrisy of s***s, not just the alledged abuse. it's just, like, particularly heinous that they capitalized off preaching leftist values/telling their fanbase of mostly teenage girls to punch a rapist, while they knew their drummer was fucking a 17-year-old lol. I GENUINELY THINK if they just marketed themselves as a normal surf punk band/pop punk band or whatever, they would have been able to bounce back. and also..... what literally prompted lydia to tell her truth was s***s posting some bullshit drivel condemning other bands for doing things that weren't as bad as what they were doing. i mean c*le b*cker was tweeting at the lead singer of the frights, telling him to get therapy, literally because he....... slept with a fan. that wasn't underage. lmao. but in adie's eyes (bc i don't think she has particularly strong critical thinking skills (not as a slight to her, a LOT of people don't) or media literacy) j***'s downfall was 100% lydia's fault... when there were other factors involved

so..... yeah. unless you were talking about other things she did that gave you those vibes lmao

[unbridgeabledistances]

I love your last fic so much it got me thinking could you write something about like the gallaghers( +Kev and v and sandy etc) observing Ian and Mickey’s relationship? Like their perspectives of seeing them be soft with each other and just their dynamic? I’m sorry if this doesn’t make sense lol <3

hiiiii anon!<3 okay i want to start off by saying that this got WAY too long, bc i loved this prompt a lot- so much that i think i might make this a multi-part thing on ao3! i started with sandy (since i am in love with her) but i’ll also go through the gallaghers/kev & v soon- lmk if u guys want me to continue, and who u would want me to write next if i do (or if u want me to continue with sandy lol i have lots of thoughts and feelings)

this ended up taking place in s10 when we first meet sandy, fyi:) also tw for brief mentions of abuse (as always, bc of terry 🙄) -- and there is a reference to the line in 10x07 that jokes about mickey and sandy for a brief moment

--

When Sandy heard her phone buzz on that Tuesday afternoon, sitting on the stained and lumpy couch in her shithead uncle’s living room while drinking a beer and arguing with Alek about what type of insurance fraud could make the biggest payout, she had no idea what to expect on the other end of the line. The phone kept ringing, the contact info lighting up the screen: MICKEY.

Mickey? Shit. It had been a long fucking time. Between her own various juvie stints as a kid and Mickey’s time behind bars overlapping just as she got released, Sandy hadn’t seen Mickey since… high school, maybe? Whenever it was, it was back when Mickey was a grimy kid with spikey hair and dirty fingernails, a kid with an obsession with guns and way too much time on his hands, back when they would hang out by the train tracks and drink beer and get way too high and do stupid shit; all in all, back when everything was a hell of a lot simpler. Sandy assumed Mickey had met Royal and been clued in about her shitshow of a life at some point while she’d been gone, and they’d possibly overlapped at a family party or two a few years ago when they both were in town— but other than hearing about the aftershocks of Mickey coming out and driving Terry up a goddamn wall, so much so that Terry broke his parole and was headed straight back to prison hours after his release, Sandy hadn’t seen Mickey in forever.

Which is why this call intrigued her so much— Mickey was supposed to be in prison for at least a couple more years, or at least that’s what his brothers had said, so why the fuck was he using a cell phone right now?

Sandy nodded her head towards the cellphone, cutting Alek off mid-sentence and sliding her thumb across the screen to pick up the call. Before saying anything, she rose off the creaky springs of the couch and speedwalked out to the front porch before answering— whatever the fuck Mickey wanted, she assumed he was calling her because this conversation wasn’t for the ears of any other Milkoviches. She lit a cigarette and leaned against the post of the front stoop, listening to the silence hanging heavy on her phone’s speaker.

“Mickey? You there?”

A low chuckle came from the other end of the line.

“Fuck. Been a long time.” Mickey’s voice sounded the same; punchy and snarky, maybe a little gruffer and raspier after years of cigarette smoke. Sandy waited a moment for Mickey to give more of a reply, or an explanation for his call, but it was clear that Mickey wasn’t going to give one right away— it was like he was testing the waters, like he was deciding if making this call was the right move. Soft static echoed on the phone line.

Sandy totally got it— reemerging from a life of cinderblock cell walls and barbed wire fences fucking sucked, especially when you were a Milkovich and the moment you got out you were faced with a choice, an opportunity: did you want to go back home, or did you want to start fresh, erase your own name, and forget this dysfunctional family ever existed? Sandy knew she felt the same way when she got out. Mickey deciding to call Sandy was a big fucking move, and she realized that— reclaiming your life as a Milkovich on the brink of a new beginning took guts.

“So, I take it you’re out of prison?” Sandy asked after a moment, inhaling another slow puff of her cigarette.

There was that laugh again— Sandy had weirdly missed it. Honestly, Mickey hadn’t ever been too bad to be around— they’d both felt like outsiders in the family, had both always had a strong head on their shoulders and a fucking moral compass, unlike the rest of Terry’s sheep who did his bidding and got swastikas tattooed on their chest. When he was younger Mickey used to follow Terry and his older brothers around like a lost puppy, and he even got those fucking knuckle tats—but later in high school, Sandy remembered seeing something deep snap inside him, bleeding out in “STAY THE FUCK OUT” and “FUCK LOVE” signs taped onto his bedroom walls. At the time she thought it was the fucked-up shit with Terry and Mandy driving him up a wall— but now she realized the constant bombardment of homophobia, coupled with the cuts and bruises blooming on his cheeks and the cigarette burn scars on his arms, must have been signs of Mickey realizing the rude awakening that was inevitably going to come if he wanted to be who he was. Sandy couldn’t even imagine— no one really gave a shit who she fucked, and her cousins didn’t know anything about her sex life—but she couldn’t fathom being Terry’s son, the pride and joy of the Milkovich clan, and needing to outwardly admit those deeper parts of herself.

“Yup, I’m free to join civilization as of this morning. Overcrowding or some shit.” Sandy could hear Mickey also taking a drag of a cigarette on the other end of the line. She smirked to herself. Guess we both didn’t break the Milkovich nicotine addiction.

“So, uh, listen,” Mickey continued, and Sandy immediately knew he was in deep shit if she was the one he was calling to ask for a favor. “I’m in a bit of a… situation. Don’t wanna go into too many specifics, but there might be a massive fucking Mexican cartel after me right now.”

Sandy barked out a laugh before she could help herself. Fucking Mickey. “Oh yeah? Sounds like you’re feeling thrilled to be a free man again.”

Mickey chuckled again. “Fuck you. But hey, d’you think you can bring my shit by to me, so I don’t have to stop by the house and get fucking killed? You don’t gotta rush or whatever, just didn’t wanna show my face quite yet.”

Sandy could feel all the unsaid things wrapped in the way Mickey’s sentence ended. Didn’t want to show his face quite yet because of this cartel bullshit, or because of Terry? She decided it didn’t really matter— Mickey was a good guy, she could spend an hour or so rounding up his shit and bringing it to him if that’s what he needed.

“Got it.” She blew out more smoke, watching it curl and drift over the wasteland of the front yard on a gust of summer air.

Mickey cleared his throat, like he was gearing up to say more. When he spoke, his voice was softer around the edges, more genuine than before.

“I’m, uh. I’m sure you heard everything about me while I was gone. About Terry flipping his shit. Probably not the best idea for me to come around the house quite yet—my brothers n’ I haven’t really talked much since then either.” He paused, inhaling another drag of his cigarette. “I figured you’d get it. And hey, if you can bring the stuff by, I’d love to hear all the badass shit you’ve been up to the past few years.”

Sandy nearly winced—yeah, if by “badass shit” you mean getting forcibly married to a douchebag and then couch surfing for months— but she tried to keep her shit together for Mickey’s sake. She stubbed out her cigarette on the railing of the porch, straightening from where she was leaning.

“I’ve got it Mickey, don’t worry about it. Where are you right now, anyways?”

She could hear the hint of relief bleeding into Mickey’s voice when he replied. “I’m at the Gallagher house? The grey one by the tracks.”

Sandy rolled her eyes. “I was in jail for a couple of years Mickey, not braindead. I know where the Gallagher house is.”

Mickey huffed out a breath, but there wasn’t any sharpness in it. “Excuse me for tryin’ to be helpful, smartass.”

“Why the fuck are you there, anyways?”

“I’m, uh, crashing with my partner for now. Ian?”

Holy shit, Mickey was still fucking Ian Gallagher? Sandy had pieced together that Ian was the reason Mickey came out months after getting married to some Russian bitch, and according to Iggy the whole reason Mickey went to jail in the first place was some love-crazed revenge plot on Ian’s behalf— but since getting locked up Mickey hadn’t kept in touch with anyone, other than a shady-as-fuck message to his brothers after he’d busted out of prison letting everyone know that he was in Mexico, despite getting thrown back into jail in Chicago a couple months later. Sandy didn’t really know the details, and she especially didn’t know anything about Mickey’s love life— but it was wild as fuck that someone as unsettled and ruthless and batshit crazy as Mickey could’ve been with the same person all this time, especially someone as seemingly bland as Ian Gallagher. Huh. Wonder if I’ll get to see Ian.

“Got it. I’ll round up your shit and bring it by the Gallagher house later today. And don’t worry, I won’t let anyone know you called til you’re ready.”

Mickey exhaled on the other end of the line. “There shouldn’t be much, just check the drawers or whatever. “

Sandy knew for a fact that most of Mickey’s lingering possessions had probably been taken, sold, or thrown out by a zealously homophobic Terry by now, but she wasn’t going to say as much to Mickey over the phone.

“I’m on it. See you in a couple hours.”

“Hey, Sandy?” Mickey blew out a long breath, and this time Sandy couldn’t tell if it was because he was still smoking or because he was riding a wave of relief, releasing the floodgates of anxiousness he’d been holding in the whole conversation. “Thanks. I fuckin’ owe you one.”

Sandy smirked. Maybe Mickey being let out of jail early was a good thing, despite how fucked his whole situation seemed— maybe, for once, someone in her family would be fun to be around, wouldn’t set her teeth on edge every two seconds by making a racist comment or forcing her to be something she wasn’t.

“I’ll text you when I’m almost at your love nest.”

She imagined Mickey’s grin as he replied. “Fuck you. See ya soon.”

**

After scraping through every rickety dresser drawer in Terry’s house for nearly an hour, Sandy could barely come up with anything that was reportedly Mickey’s: a couple of tattered shirts, an impressively overused-looking bong, and a single sneaker she’d left behind because she couldn’t find the other one. She threw it all in some shitty burlap rucksack she’d found on one of the bedroom floors, assuming no one would miss it— it dawned on her that maybe her cousins were lying, and some of the other stuff in the house was still Mickey’s, but she’d collected what she could based on the whispered directions Alek and Iggy had given her when Terry was out of the room.

Sandy unlocked her phone, and typed a quick message to Mickey. “Out front.”

Mickey’s reply came quickly, and Sandy noticed the front curtains rustling on the top floor of the Gallagher house.

“Coming down”

The front door creaked open, and Mickey walked out onto the front porch. He looked good; he looked cleaner, sure, but also like a fucking adult—like he’d grown into himself, like he actually carried himself with confidence instead of just pretending to. He nodded his chin up at Sandy in acknowledgement.

“Long time no see.” He smirked, leaning on the banister. “You make a good delivery service. All those hauls we did with Terry must’ve been good training.”

Sandy lazily walked up the front steps, reaching the bag out in front of her for Mickey to take. “Here’s all the shit I could find. It’s not much.”

Mickey jerked his head to the open door behind him. “You wanna come in for a sec?”

Sandy grinned. Why the fuck not. “Sure."

So that was how she found herself perched on what was presumably Ian Gallagher’s bed, watching Mickey ruffle through the burlap bag, his brows furrowed as he realized just how much of his shit was actually gone.

“This everything?”

“As much as I could find.”

They comfortably chatted back and forth about how everyone was— Sandy decided to divulge the fact that Mickey’s brothers were idiots who tried to crawl in bed with her every night, which is something that she had to joke about so she didn’t go fucking insane sleeping under the same roof as them.

“Fuck ‘em, chop their nuts off next time they try it.”

Sandy smirked. Finally, a decent fucking relative. She made some hollow joke about staying with Mickey, alluding to the extra-shitty night decades ago when their cousins had forced them to make out when they were way too high on something.

“Or I could stay here with you. Have fun like we did when we were kids.”

“You know that’s fucked up, right? We’re fucking cousins!”

“Plus he’s taken.” A voice came from around the corner.

Ian Gallagher looked bigger, taller, and more solid than Sandy remembered; he was definitely miles away from the scrawny kid with the bangs who worked at the Kash N Grab that Sandy and her cousins endlessly used to fuck with in middle school. Ian’s shoulders were wide, his body imposing in the tiny room; immediately, Mickey’s aggravated stance softened when Ian walked in, wrapped in a towel from the waist down.

“Oh right, you.” Sandy grinned as Ian hunched over the bed and grabbed his deodorant from the nightstand.

Mickey had turned back to the bag of clothes. “Hey, I had shampoo and shit, is there soap anywhere?”

Sandy rolled her eyes. “You’ve been gone for years, you think your brothers would save that shit for you?” she bit out— and okay, maybe she was a little pissed at Mickey’s brothers for the constant-sexual-assault thing.

Ian just applied his deodorant and leaned in close to Mickey as he passed by the bed towards the doorframe. “You can use mine. We’ll hit Costco later, I’m getting paid.”

It was stupid, but Sandy felt something soft pang in her chest at Ian’s words; it was just now that she was realizing it, but she didn’t think she’d ever seen someone take care of Mickey before, or so… automatically factor Mickey’s needs into a situation. Being a Milkovich was all about scrounging and scraping, and guarding what little you had; a Milkovich would never let someone use their fucking soap just because they cared about them, or not as an immediate reaction anyways.

“Nah, I can’t, man. PO texted me when you were in the shower, he’s got a job for me.”

Ian kept looking at Mickey from where he was leaning in the doorway. “Then give me a list of shit you need, and I’ll pick it up for you,” Ian said in an overly simple tone, like he was mocking the fact that Mickey didn’t realize Ian would run an errand for him.

Sandy smirked. Jesus, Gallagher is whipped.

“Isn’t that cute, little domestic bitches,” Sandy crooned before she could help herself.

Ian stepped into the room again and leaned in towards Mickey, pressing a kiss to Mickey’s cheek while Mickey aggressively tried to uncrumple one of the pile of shirts from the bag.

“Mm, thank you,” Ian said in reply, his voice muffling as he smushed his face closer to Mickey’s.

Mickey instantly smiled smugly as Ian’s lips pressed against his cheek—then he noticed Sandy was staring, so he flipped her off and smiled even wider. What the fuck? Sure, Mickey had flipped Sandy off, but he was practically fucking beaming in a way that Sandy had never seen. God, wonder if I’ll find this shit someday.

Ian detached himself from Mickey and walked out of the room, Mickey’s eyes lingering on his torso. Once Ian had turned the corner Mickey snapped back to attention, fixing his eyes back onto the small mountain of clothes spread on the bed in front of him. Mickey lifted the bong off the bedsheets, and met Sandy’s gaze. 

“You have to go, or d’you wanna hang for a bit? I don’t have to be at work for a couple hours, and it’s gonna suck enough that I should probably be high before I get there.”

Sandy grinned. “Hell yeah, I’m down.”

**

They sat on the rickety back steps of the Gallagher house, silently taking hits and passing the bong back and forth. It had been years since they’d been in the same space, but Sandy and Mickey easily sank into a comfortable silence, passively surrounded by the shrieks of kids playing across the alleyway and the bubbling of water as they inhaled. Mickey blew smoke out of his nose, then sat back so he was leaning against the banister and passed the glass pipe to Sandy.

“So,” Sandy started as she held the lighter to the bong and inhaled deeply. “Ian Gallagher.”

Mickey huffed out a laugh. “Yup. That’s some Romeo and Juliet shit for ya.”

Sandy smirked as she exhaled. “You really fucking love him, huh?”

Mickey eyebrows raised almost imperceptibly as he looked towards her. “Yeah. Guess I do.” He took the bong from Sandy’s outstretched hand. “Took me forever to get shit straight with him, though.”

Ah. So their road to domestic bliss wasn’t as straightforward as it seemed. Sandy’s curiosity was growing.

“Because of shit with Terry?”

Mickey stiffened, coughing a bit as he exhaled smoke, like Sandy’s question caught him off guard. “Shit. Yeah. That too. Let’s just say there were lots of fucking ups and downs, and we both had a lot of shit to unpack.”

Sandy snickered. “You sound like a fucking couples therapist.”

Mickey rolled his eyes. “If you wanna see couples therapy, I should tell you about the months me and Ian were sharing a fucking cell. We nearly ripped each other’s heads off. We literally stabbed someone so one of us might get sent to fucking solitary.”

Sandy’s laughter grew. “Are you fucking serious?”

Mickey grinned, and passed the bong back to Sandy again. “Fuck. Yeah. I fucking love him, though. He’s fucking crazy, and I still can’t let him go.” Mickey looked off into the distance across the alleyway, and either the weed was really hitting him right now, or he was being a very sappy motherfucker.

Sandy nudged Mickey’s knee. “You guys are cute together.” Mickey’s eyebrows raised when he heard the word “cute,” and Sandy quickly tried to rephrase. “Not cute, but y’know. Good for each other. You seem happy. Happy is... good.”

Mickey nodded pensively. “How’re you doing, anyways?”

Sandy shrugged noncommittally. “Eh. We can talk about me another time. How the fuck did you and Ian end up sharing a jail cell, anyways?”

Mickey let out a throaty laugh. “I heard Gallagher was getting locked up when I was down south, so I essentially pulled some strings and fucking snitched on the cartel I was working for. Hauled my ass back up here so we could be together.”

Holy fuck. Sandy’s jaw nearly dropped. “Mickey, you’re batshit crazy.” She shoved him squarely in the chest this time. “Are you fucking serious?! You evaded the feds, were living in Mexico, and you came back for Ian Gallagher?”

Mickey rolled his eyes again, placing the bong on the steps. “I can’t explain it, man. I just didn’t wanna be anywhere else, I guess.”

Sandy leaned back onto the banister. “Shit.” She paused for a moment, wondering if she should ask the next question. “Do you… want me to tell anyone you’re back?”

Mickey glanced over at her, his eyes alert. “Nah. Not yet. That okay with you?”

Sandy nodded. “Of course.” Mickey pulled out his phone, checking the time and presumably looking for a distraction from tiptoeing around talking about Terry— but Sandy had to tell him, had to let him know one more thing.

“Hey, Mickey?”

Mickey looked up. “Yeah?”

“I don’t really know the details of what went down with Terry, or whatever— but I just wanted to let you know that… if you ever wanna come home, I’m on your side. No questions asked. And I think a lot of the others are, too.”

The corner of Mickey’s mouth ticked upward. “Thanks.”

Sandy stood, checking her phone and zipping her leather jacket. “Well, I’d probably let you sober up a bit before your big parolee first day of work.”

Mickey raised a middle finger up to her from where he was seated, but then rose to stand.

“Thanks for comin’ by. And hey—you’re free to crash here anytime. There’s a million fucking kids running around all the time, but there’s always a couch or something open if everyone at home’s giving you too much shit.”

Sandy felt something warm growing in her chest. It had been a long fucking time since someone offered to take care of her, just because they could, just because they wanted to— maybe being a Milkovich wasn’t half bad. Maybe there were some good ones.

Sandy nodded in acknowledgement, and turned to walk down the creaky back steps. Wow. If Sandy was sure of one thing right now, it was that Mickey really, really fucking loved Ian Gallagher.

[googledocsdyke]

i have not seen any episodes of spn past season 10. but i am asking u because i trust ur opinion. should i watch the other 5? or is it not worth it?

oh ABSOLUTELY watch the other 5. you'll get some big hits and some big misses. my opinion on ~dabb era~ as a cohesive concept changes every time the wind blows but (and i was yelled at on discord for this) season 12 is one of my singular favourite seasons of supernatural. some general pros of seasons 11-15:

- genuinely post-carver supernatural just feels like it's less afraid to have fun. like you get yockey and perez who specialise in writing an all-caps WHAT IF... on the top of a whiteboard and just fucking slamming the gas from there. but like WITH the reading. the 3-episode season 12 yockey hat trick is like. BING BANG BOOM. angel gender! cas backstory! hunter funerals that aren't lonely devastated burnings but a big crowded house full of drinking games and collective community lore! THEE banes twins! other one-episode wonders include the chitters, scoobynatural, baby, regarding dean, tombstone, ouroboros, mint condition..... late seasons supernatural is at its best when it says fuck the very tiresome molasses mytharc and let's be insane and do a Concept. and it WORKS. like the finales mostly drag but many individual episodes are so good that i could live there

- you get claire's coherent arc!! miss newton killed it in 10x09 and 10x10 and 10x20 but a lot of it is claire having like. the worst fucking life of all time and being prickles and thorns and too much anger behind too small of a gun. her relationship w jody is SO good and aching and the wayward sisters setup is super fun even if. yknow. they didn't follow through

- BILLIE is truly one of the best chars they've ever done though they did her dirty at the end. like she haaaates the winchesters but rather than being some deep seething hyper-personal resentment she has a fascinating relationship to like. the desire to generally bring order to the universe — not imposed power, but just like the natural cycle of being in the world. in a way she's not so much working against the winchesters as she is the like very existence of the entire show — what dies Should stay dead and what is clearly dying Should be put out of its misery and YET the show rolls on. like it's deliciously uncomfortable every time she's on the screen because she's RIGHT! the only reasons the winchesters "should" survive another day is like.... they want to. her style her flair her lines her philosophy her position as Librarian mwah!

- rowena as well. god. milfnatural REALLY goes crazy in the later seasons i don't know what to say she's so good. the FLAIR the drama the royal court shakespeare production of it ALL

- MARY PLOTLINE HIIIIII. WOW. Well. if i think about mary for too long my brain does microwave noises but like the fact that they Literally resurrect the ghost of an inciting incident, the mother-as-plot device who does not speak, never the mourner eternally mourned???? And they stick her into the living world????? And she takes off that stupid nightgown???? big qualms w mary in lebanon and lack of john followthrough BUT LIKE. and her relationship with dean like she cannot meet his eyes. she cannot meet his eyes. multiple dean mary scenes that i cannot physically watch it's like a live wire MMM DELICIOUS

- JACK. SO important to understanding cas' arc. he is gay and he is a dad and he is a dad ON PURPOSE w such sweetness and sincerity and presence like i will become so fiercely father-shaped it's just quite excellent like the dude queers fatherhood. i am of split minds of how they did the dean jack relationship bc at the risk of over-spoiling it i think it's all setup and no followthrough/denouement/proper resolution. and like this is a general problem w supernatural in general that doesn't go away in late seasons you can see the moving parts of something great and then they kind of shrink back and explain it away in the vaguest way possible. But still. jack amazing mesmerising so much potential much of it realised it IS ABOUT father and sons

- you get to see dean and cas build up to 15.18. which is just, like, delicious and SO rewarding. season 12 almost-get together! widower arc! divorce arc! tenuous quasi-parenting debates! all building to I Love Every Body Be Cause I Love You

basically like much of supernatural, it has a lot of truly delicious moving parts with a lacklustre mytharc and some truly egregious writing decisions thrown in. it's not coherent in a way that supernatural has never been and arguably gets worse. BUT it has some of my personal favourite characters and writers of all time and if you want to see any of the above it's like. entirely worth it. and there is something delightful if disturbing in watching a show go on for so long that it parodies itself and references itself and eats itself whole. it is so often so much FUN let's hear it for cwification

[mrs-nate-humphrey]

Hi I just had a great idea:

What if instead of taking chip wiskers on a Sail-Around-the-World, Get-Over-Blair summer adventure (bc chip can get rekt!) Nate takes Dan instead??? and they fuck and fall in love of course

here you go, jess! your wish is my command & all that. maybe i'll make this into a proper fic when i don't feel like a zombie with a running nose.

vanessa breaks up w/ dan before she leaves for haiti. dan is taking it pretty badly, nate thinks dan must be torn up about it/ missing her / heartbroken etc etc.

blair's got her own clusterfuck of chip stuff to handle (clusterchuck?) and serena's helping with that, jenny's got her own stuff to handle, etc etc, so dan's entire support system boils down to just nate, naturally

nate's like "oh yeah i can handle this i too was once heartbroken over vanessa"

but then dan sort of gets very drunk and talks about how if the one person who's loved him longest and loved him best and known him better than anyone else couldn't stand him what does that say about him, dan? is he just that unlovable? and nate's heart hurts

nate tries for sage advice such as "sometimes being best friends doesn't translate to being romantically compatible, man. i know she loved you, but her not being in love with you doesn't say anything about you" but it slides off dan like water off a duck's back

so nate decides to take dan on a vacation. take his mind off stuff.

dan thinks it'll be lowkey so he agrees.

it is............not lowkey.

they sail for a bit and dan hates it, hates the feeling of being at sea, doesn't feel comfortable on a rickety sailboat, etc etc, but dan loves seeing how at ease nate is - and that's enough for dan to put his anxiety away for a bit

(sorry, i just have a big headcanon of dan being terrified of like. sailboats or cruise ships or whatever. seeing all that ocean all around him and knowing he can't leave freaks him out imo.)

one week in nate realises that dan is essentially putting up a brave front & then there are a few airline tickets and a lot of backpacking

"didn't know i was honeymooning with serena," dan says, and nate smacks his arm and gives him a look

dan doesn't understand foreign currency and nate's terrifyingly good at conversion rates. nate's also better at picking up snippets of the local language, wherever they are, while dan just. blinks and opens his tourist guidebook and stumbles through the "do you speak english?" phrases every single time

(dan thinks it's hot. that nate knows all this. that nate is just Wired in a way that makes him so good at adapting/navigating all this.)

( nate thinks dan's adorable. when he scowls at the maps and loiters in souvenir shops and blinks dazedly when people talk to him in a language he doesn't understand, looking at nate wide-eyed in a silent plea for help. it cracks nate up, but it also makes him want to hold dan in his arms and kiss the top of his head. whoops.)

anyway! back to plot.

they hang out in cheap hotels or service apartments and dan begins to teach nate how to cook and they fly kites in meadows and go on treks and it's such an absorbing experience

they spend anywhere between 3- 9 days in one location before moving

every single day is so Full and Whole it feels like a whole week of events. but it's just one fulfilling day

then one day they're snowed in somewhere on the mountains

and both of them have... a really good time. and dan has this lightbulb moment of... oh. it's not Abroad that's bringing meaning to my life, it's not these activities or the change of pace or anything else. it's nate. it's being able to be with nate like this

nate, naturally, is having the same sort of revelation

dan wants to act on it but he's scared to blow what is the best friendship in his life at this time, and he knows natie is coming off a heartbreak w/ serena and he doesn't want to be a rebound

but nate is the one to initiate it, touching dan's chin with gentle fingers and going, "hey, we can ignore this and never talk about this again if you’d prefer that but i really want to kiss you"

so of course, they kiss

they kiss, and then they almost do the deed too but then they both stop, because dan's like "wait you're my best friend i can't risk you Not being my best friend tomorrow when it's over"

they talk about it in an emotionally mature way & talk about their exes + their expectations of being in a relationship & just "you're my best friend but it's become so much more than that lately"

they don't fuck but they go to bed holding each other, as boyfriends

when the summer ends, they both return to NY a lot more tanned, with a lot more souvenirs, and more genuine smiles

chuck gets pissy with nate about taking "humdrum humphrey on a honeymoon" and nate hits him in the face (im sorry, i love the chuck/nate/dan love triangle too much, i have no excuse)

nate moves in with dan, vanessa shows up to visit and check in on dan and they have a heart-to-heart (turns out after her internship in hiati, v popped over to california because ruby's band was on tour there, etc, and vanessa bumped into olivia of all people, and. apparently they're dating now and she wants dan to hear it from her, directly, and she hopes he's okay with that - with his ex gfs dating each other - and dan's like 'yeah as long as you're happy. speaking of finding your exes in a gay relationship, uh, me and nate....' & of course, v is extremely thrilled by this update)

blairena fucked in paris and will continue to fuck on return to NY but there's definitely a lot of angst because blair expects serena to dump her for one of the boys and serena thinks blair doesn't like her / is pushing her towards the boys because "what happens in paris stays in paris" but they're both definitely in love. and they miscommunicate BUT they work it out. classic fanfic stuff.

and. three days before college begins there's a knock on the door of the loft and when nate opens the door, he's greeted by a heavily pregnant georgina.

"what the fuck are you doing here?" / "i could ask you the same question. and don't cuss around the unborn baby, archibald." / "...."

dan, of course, walks in now, and he's like, "there's no such thing as an unborn baby, if you mean fetus, you should say that, because -"

and then he looks at who's at the door and he's like. "uh. georgie. long time no see, what?"

georgie grins like satan. "he's yours"

"yeah, nate is my boyfriend," dan says distractedly, and then blinks, stares at georgina, and at nate, and back at georgina again. "do you - do you mean, the kid?"

/end

[andallthatmishigas]

pls may i ask two for the fanfic ask? bc i am still stuck on them ♡♡♡

walking the wire & a new genesis ♡♡♡

(you have no idea how much your writing helps me through things and i feel weird leaving a comment every time but maybe i should start so you know)

Oh my goodness bless you. I love these questions, and I love those stories so so so so much. And you can comment 10000 times and I'll love it 10000+ times. Because I genuinely do go back and reread reviews all the time. It makes me so happy!

Anyway onto this. Walking the Wire and A New Genesis for each question:

2. What scene did you first put down?

WtW: I had the first scene written for a long time before I actually wrote anything more or even thought of any plot beyond that one moment. The idea of Lucien asking Jean out on a date and being all nervous about it and adorable. I had that saved in my notes and then the more I listened to the Imagine Dragons song (of the same name as the story), it sort of came together in my head.

ANG: First chapter. I had the plot and concept in my mind for a while and then sat down and just wrote that first chapter in one go while at my parents' house for some reason. In case it wasn't obvious, I am the kind of writer who starts at the beginning and goes from there. I can't skip around. I'm way too Type A for it lol.

4. What’s your favorite line of dialogue?

WtW:

Lucien continued, "And now, being here together, I can't help thinking that us being together, hopefully marrying one day soon…I know it won't be an easy road, Jean. For you much moreso than for me. But I just hope that if we can cling to each other, we can stay up here always. Holding each other and walk the wire together. There's no limit to how high we can go. And if anyone else has a problem with it, well…"

"Look out down below," she interjected softly.

ANG:

Lucien paused right in front of the altar table, placed his hands down flat on it, and leaned forward. Jean could not see is face, but from the tone of his voice she could hear him sneer, "What did I ever do to You? How did I offend You so brutally that You subject me to this? I was arrogant, I was oblivious, sometimes uncaring. I know that. I won't deny it. I've lived a far from perfect life. But wasn't the camp punishment enough? Wasn't losing my family in front of my eyes enough penance for my sins?" He pushed off the table and started shouting. "I have served you faithfully! I have led your flocks! Why have You tempted me with love and happiness that You have forbidden me to possess? Is it a test? Well, surely I've failed. Surely I would fail any test because of her."

11. What do you like best about this fic?

WtW: The first half, I think, is really good. It falters a bit towards the end. But I love the exploration I got to do with Jean's judgmental attitude towards Lucien and divorce and her lust and herself and how she overcomes all of that. I think that struggle is the thing I like best. I've got to reread this one soon.

ANG: This story combines one of my favorite things which is sexualizing and blaspheming the Catholic Church. Protestants? Nothing sexy there. Catholics? That's my shit. And I just get such a thrill over blasphemy tbh. Nice Jewish girl vibes, thank you very much. (The scene where Lucien fucks Jean on the altar in the church is what I was entirely building up for the whole entire story and I'm super proud of it.)

13. What music did you listen to, if any, to get in the mood for writing this story? Or if you didn’t listen to anything, what do you think readers should listen to to accompany us while reading?

WtW: So I was making playlists for each of my major stories for a little while, but I didn't start doing that until after I'd finished each of these two stories, BUT this story is 100% inspired by THIS SONG which I was just captivated by and needed to write something for it.

ANG: This was tough for me to answer. I don't think I have a specific song or artist or vibe for this one. I looked through my other story playlists for some Blake fics (Forever in Your Arms, Ivy) and the closest I could really think of to apply to this story was THIS SONG which is less blasphemy, my favorite theme of the story, and more the sort of obsessive sacrifice that Lucien goes through so I suppose it works.

[waynedunlaptheorgandonor]

caryl first date headcanon

i wrote a stream of consciousness caryl headcanon i was thinking about when i couldn’t sleep last night. no i did not proofread it. yes it is rambling nonsense. yes you can read it if you want: 

so i genuinely don’t know what the timeline for canon is gonna be now that we got bottle episodes, s11, and the spin-off, but just for a moment let us pretend that it happens during the bottle episodes and then we have all of s11 to watch caryl trying to figure out how to navigate a relationship with each other

cuz like, they gon fuck right away, bc things are gonna get heated, and tensions are gonna be high, and they’re gonna snap like a trip wire and fucking ravish each other, that’s without question

so the first little while of their relationship will be mostly getting intimately familiar with each other’s bodies down to every last freckle

but once they’ve simmered down some they’re gonna need to address the “oh shit, wait, how does a relationship work?” problem

cue: caryl’s first date

it’ll take place in commonwealth, and i’ve never read the comics and i know jack all about it outside of what i’ve skimmed, but we’re gonna ignore that for the sake of my fun post

i know enough about it to know that there are definitely places to have a date

daryl knows this too, tho he doesn’t rly think about it right away. at first he’s more confused and sort of standoffish about the whole place, bc he was always a forest-dweller even before the apocalypse, so seeing this new metropolis-like place after years of living like a gd pioneer is gonna throw him way off kilter

right up until he’s chillin’ with judith and she’s talking about how she’s excited to see her first concert, and they have restaurants, and things she’s only ever read about, and then out of nowhere she’ll pull out, “are you gonna take aunt carol on a date?” 

and daryl will stare at her

and she’ll be like “rosita was telling me about how father gabriel took her on a real date and how nice it was. you should do that for aunt carol” 

and daryl will stare at her

and then will hastily change the subject (she’ll see right through him, ofc, but she’ll let it slide)

but the thought will stick with him, and suddenly he’s looking at the schedule of upcoming concerts and plays and wondering if carol would care about any of it. does she like shakespeare? the most experience he would have had with shakespeare was ripping out a couple pages of his school copy of romeo and juliet to use to light some firewood

but maybe she’s into it???

eventually he’ll reach the inevitable conclusion that the only way this is going to work is if he actually asks her to go on a date with him, which should be easy, right? like, he was ball’s deep inside her last night and told her good morning by putting his face between his legs, so surely asking someone on a date is simple

it will not be simple

bc yeah, they fuck all the time, and obviously they’re head-over-heels in love with each other, they’re each other’s soulmates, yada yada, but also daryl’s extremely emotionally repressed and has the romance skills of a fifteen year old having his mom drive him and his date to his first homecoming dance, only worse bc he never even went to any school dances

but after Dwelling On It for ages he’ll finally get fed up with himself and will vow to stop being a pussy. he’ll ask her before the day’s over or he’ll shoot a bolt into his own foot, ok, no more excuses

so the whole day he’s jittery af

you’d think he’s trying to pop the question, but all he wants to do is go eat dinner with carol and then watch some people recite lines from a play written hundreds of years ago, like, what is his Deal(tm)??? 

(his deal is, ofc, that he waited so long to have her, and now every new thing feels tenuous, bc he’d rather die than lose her, and sure she knows him better than anyone, but never in this context, and plus her last dude basically bled passion and romance no matter how obnoxious, and what if she realizes just how fucking clueless he is and decides she doesn’t really want to be with a middle-aged man who still gets tongue-tied around a pretty girl?)

(but also she deserves a gd date, alright? she deserves it, and so he’s going to give it to her, even if going face-to-face with a walker horde is less intimidating)

carol notices something’s off with him right away, but she waits until after dinner, when the kids have gone to their rooms and the two of them are alone washing dishes to ask, “hey, so what the fuck?” 

and daryl will be like, k, it’s now or never

and he will 100% make a fool of himself by stumbling alllll over his words, like, “nothin’s wrong, i’m fine, everythin’s real fine, i was just wonderin’ if mb you’d wanna, y’know, i dunno, they got all these shows and shit that we ain’t had in forever and i didn’t know if mb you’d wanna go see one? and mb get some food? with me, i mean. like, together. like i’d take you there and we could do those things, like a, you know, a date. but it’s cool if not, no worries, i get it if it’s not your thing, but i just thought i’d ask, but no, you’re right, it’s stupid, forget i said anythin’, hey look at the time, well i’m beat, gonna go to sleep now, goodbye”

and carol will go, “hold up”

and she’ll take daryl by the wrist before he can flee the room (bc he definitely intends to), and pulls him close and kisses him all sweet, and she’s gotta stand on her tiptoes to do it bc she’s in a pair of knit socks and he’s got his boots on so there’s more of a height difference than usual, and after she’s successfully managed to keep daryl from falling straight into a panic spiral, she’ll whisper, “i’d love to, let’s go this weekend”

and then she’ll just turn back to doing dishes without another word on the matter 

(bc, as previously stated, she knows daryl better than anyone, and she knows exactly what all his insecurities are and how much it must have taken him to ask her that, and so she’s not gonna harp on it or tease him)

(daryl recognizes this and loves her desperately for it)

the actual date is way easier than daryl expected

bc he spent all this time hyping it up, but when it comes right down to it, he just gets to spend a night with carol where they don’t have the kids to worry about, or any council business, and they just get to enjoy each other’s company

she even dressed up a little for him, which was unnecessary, but he most certainly appreciates it and can’t wait to tear the outfit off of her later

(it does make him regret the fact that he’s only had one pair of pants for the past ten years, but she doesn’t seem to mind)

they end up seeing a shakespeare play

daryl understands like 2% at best, but carol holds his hand and rests her head on his shoulder the whole time, and apparently it’s a comedy bc she laughs a lot, and that alone makes it worth it

they fuck like crazy when they get home, obviously

but it’s different than it had been previously, bc now their “togetherness” seems more solidified

like, they’re officially a “couple” now

like the type of couple that gets a babysitter for the night so they can go to the apocalyptic version of dinner and a movie together and then have sex and then fall asleep right afterwards bc they’re domestic af

and like, deep down both of them knows that this isn’t the life that they’re meant to live in forever, a la commonwealth/domestic bliss, and he wasn’t kidding when he told her new mexico was still out there, and he can feel a shift coming sooner rather than later

but he also knows they’ll be together when it happens, and they’ll figure out their own version of “date night” when they’re out exploring

but for now he’s content to do it the old fashioned way, though

when she falls asleep on his chest that night he rubs her back and kisses the top of her head, and he’s already planning their next night out

he might pick a show with modern english, though

but it’s not required

just so long as they’re together

the end 

[teddybeartoji]

ari my beloved<3333 you have no idea how happy it made me to see how long your answer was (TRULY) i so so so want to get into poetry and overall get back into reading and i want to just learn more and consume more art like i said and you best believe every recommendation you make will be taken very fucking seriously! jumpscare this got very long you have been warned

ALSO if u have any play recs!!!!!!!! i would absolutely love to hear those aswell!!! and i wanted to ask about your major too what are you studying if u don't mind me asking ofc

and since we are exchanging poetry i offer u this hehehe i just think it's so sweet i've been thinking about it ever since i read it

oke oke now for the good stuff - i plucked out some of my favourite parts out of all of them bc well, i genuinely fucking loved all of them

straw house, straw dog - "you are a fever i am learning to live with." is definitely a line i'll remember forever; overall um did somebody say satosugu bc the way i immediately started thinking about them wow i love heartache thanks ari; "you can sleep now, you said. you can sleep now. you said that. i had a dream where you said that. thanks for saying that. you weren't supposed to." IS MR SIKEN GOOD IS HE ALRIGHT YOU CAN'T JUST SAY THINGS LIKE THAT

planet of love - "you want to die for love, you always have." .................................... that really hits the spot "you're going to die, in your best friend's arms. and you play along because it's funny, because it's written down, you've memorized it, it's all you know." AND YOU PLAY ALONG BECAUSE IT'S FUNNY BECAUSE IT'S WRITTEN DOWN FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK as a person who hmm has definitely surpressed all their emotions and feelings at some point in their life it really is funny huh

wishbone - "but i'd rather keep the bullet. it's mine, see, i'm not giving it up. this way you still owe me, and that's as good as anything."; "if you love me, henry, you don't love me in a way i understand." AND WHO WILL BE PAYING FOR MY THERAPY SESSION AFTER THIS HMMMMM???

landscape with a blur of conquerors - "why take more than we need? because we can." YEAHHHH; honestly this poem reminded me a little bit of disco elysium, probably the way it's written idk a painting in de style kept popping into my head as i was reading; "i prefer to blame others, it's easier. king me."

self portrait against red wallpaper - "shame means you're guilty, like the rest of us, but you think you're better than we are? maybe you are."; "the world doesn't know what to do with my love."; "disheartening? obviously. i hope it's love. i'm trying really hard to make it love."; "i clawed my way into the light but the light is just as scary. i'd rather quit. i'd rather be sad. it's too much work."; "i shine a light on them of my own making; septic, ugly, the wrong yellow. i mean, maybe it's better if my opponent wins."; i'm gonna have to write like a psychoanalysis ON MYSELF after reading this nobody talk to me i need a decade

portrait of fryderyk in shifting light - "what can you know about a person? they shift in the light. you can't light up all sides at once. add a second light and you get a second darkness, it's only fair." a second darkness mhmmmmmmmmm; "the life of a body is a nightamare." BRO; "i turned off my headlights of looking and let the animal get away."

glue - "longing and suffering? of course, of course." OF COURSE OF FUCKING COURSE; "the wrong things have been wired together. things that shouldn't touch."; "i turned the image over like a rock, but then the worms." OH BUT THEN THE WORMS yeah no this man needs to compensate for my mental health he's ruining me rn

half-light - OMFG I LOVE THAT I COULD LISTEN TO IT!!!! IN HIS OWN VOICE TOO!!! FUCK!!!!! and i 1000000000000000% agree that it just screams satosugu AND de like holy shit it does; de especially when i was listening to it, his voice definitely sounds like it belongs in martinaise; "-that suffocated, fearful look on your face."; "jim, yesterday i heard your wife on the phone tell me you died almost nine months ago. jim, now we cannot ever." how about we all just take a fucking breather bc i feel like i'm suffocating

love incarnate - "to all those driven berserk or humanized by love." damn off to a great start my hands are shaking; "he made him wake. he ordered him to eat my heart. he ate my burning heart. he ate it submissively, as if afraid as love wept." it amazes me so much how some people write and use their words bc WHAT THE FUCK he ate it submissively, as if afraid as love wept are you fucking kidding by any chance and i must note that love and hunger are just an insane duo i love reading anything that has those two combined (when are they not?)

dedication - "it’s true I never write, but I would gladly die with you." might as well slap this onto my forehead; "remember me. do you remember me?"; "although I never write, secretly I long to die with you, does that count?" and i long for a fucking gun ARI YOUR PICKS ARE IMMECALUTE

mouthful of forevers - "our love came unannounced in the middle of the night. our love came when we’d given up on asking love to come."; "i will kiss you like forgiveness. you will hold me like I’m hope. our arms will bandage and we will press promises between us like flowers in a book."; "and I will not be afraid of your scars."; "but please know: whether it’s the days you burn more brilliant than the sun or the nights you collapse into my lap your body broken into a thousand questions, you are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. i will love you when you are a still day. i will love you when you are a hurricane." i think out of all of these - this might be my favourite one (even though i thought this after every read..) it's simply beautiful

for m - "i hope you won’t need pills like i do."; "i think i get so scared because i’m greedy —  i want to hold onto everything, the world wants to take it away. what the fuck."; "please linger near the door uncomfortably instead of just leaving. please forget your scarf in my life and come back later for it." it fucking hurts so good; remember when i said that the last one was my favourite ok so i might've lied bc this just might be the one fuck i love it so much ari

i can't tell you enough how much i appreciate you sharing these with me ari!! it means a lot!!!! i also have to say that i really loved reading what other people had to say on genius i think it's very cute when people share their thoughts like that<33333

i am sorry though that most of these were quotes and not a lot of my own commentary - i hope they still tell you more about myself bc all of these really resonated with me. i am still very much learning how to speak and write like a child bc well, the lovely quote "is it better to spear or to die" hangs over my head like a guillotine blade :)

ONTO DISCO ELYSIUM YAY!!!! THE GASP I LET OUT WHEN I SAW YOU SAY THAT U LOVE IT AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA and hello???? i need to know your favourites too!!!!! am itching to know your favourite skill and quote heheheh btwbtwbtw do u play any other games?? i'm so curious

my favourite character has got to be harry though. through and through. from the first second i met him i knew - this is the guy. idk what it's really saying about us - the fact that he's our favourite..... other than the crystal clear fact that we are incredibly cool of course.

i do regret to inform u that i don't have a favourite quote to give u at this very moment BUT i promise to play it again very soon and then i'll write down all of my favourite ones just for you!! TRUST!!!! as for the favourite skill i'm gonna say inland empire for now!!! pretty popular one i figure but idc i like it a lot it's fun

gonna share some funny moments i had while playing this though! on my very first playthrough I DIED when first meeting evrart.................. he had one of his breakdowns and i was still getting into the game and i was so fucking confused as to what the actual fuck just happened overall a very #relatable situation though + on my second playthrough i was not lucky at all with getting the body down from the tree i think i had to retry it about five times?????? which i think is insane and i ended up having to put the body into the polar bear freezer lmao

YOU'VE PLAYED DISCO ELYSIUM AND IT'S YOUR FAVOURITE GAME WHAT IS HAPPENING I LITERALLY DON'T KNOW ANYONE ELSE WHO EVEN KNOWS THE GAME I LOVE IT SO MUCH WHAT THE HELL

- @softgirlgonehaywire

MICKEY???????? THE WAY OUR SOULS ARE LITERALLY BONDED ATP 😭😭😭😭 DUDEEEE im going a lil crazy. plsplspls i need to know ur fave character…. and ur fave skill……. and maybe ur fave quote if u have one……….. its legitimately like my favorite thing ever ever ever that game changed my LIFE

AAAA and. u asked for poetry book recs in ur other ask so i am here to deliver 🙏🙏🙏🙏

first of all!! richard siken…. he has two poetry books out at the moment, crush and war of the foxes!! i used to prefer crush but now i like war of the foxes more. its rly just a matter of personal preference, both are super good…. i said this already but i associate literally every single poem of his w at least one jjk character. mostly gojo or geto or kenny or shoko (i am predictable)

for some reason u can find literally all his poems on genius psjfjs but here are some of my faves from crush (first three) and war of the foxes (last four)!!

straw house, straw dog // planet of love // wishbone

landscape with a blur of conquerors // self-portrait against red wallpaper // portrait of fryderyk in shifting light // glue

but siken aside!!! frank bidart my beloved <333 hes so weird. his style of writing is very unique and can seem a bit very odd but u get used to it quickly!! i love him. my absolute favorite frank bidart poem is half-light, i’m fucking obsessed u dont understand, pls read it. (its so satosugu to me) and then u can find some other poems of his here! coincidentally his writing reminds me a LOT of disco elysium which is. probably maybe why i love it sm in the first place LMAO

AND AND AND…. lastly. ive tried getting into franz wright but i didnt like the collection of his that i bought :’3 HOWEVER hes written this one poem i absolutely adore, dedication. its so so so good. ”it’s true i never write, but i would gladly die with you” // ”although i never write, secretly i long to die with you, does that count?” have permanently altered the course of my destiny

… that was probably a lot im sorry PJDKFB i didnt even mention clementine von radics…. she has an instagram account where she posts some poems i think. ive run outof links so i cant show some i like but </3 her collection mouthful of forevers is super good!!

[jamaiskookie]

bangtan headcanon: OT7 IN HIGH SCHOOL 📓✂️

☞ genre; fluff, crack

☞ warnings; excessively stupid

masterlist  u wanna talk to highschool!bangtan?

《KIM SEOKJIN》

class clown

always manages to sneak kimbap in class, and stuffs his face despite being in the front row. 

he’s alarmingly good at sneaking food into places. 

cafeteria ladies love jin so much. 

and every christmas he brings in his perfected sugar cookies and never shares them.

(he’s in the cooking club)

((he’s the only one in the cooking club))

will interrupt the teacher to make a bad joke. 

“yes so helium is the fo- oh yes seokjin?“

“i was reading an excellent book about helium, i couldn’t put it down!! ahHAHAHHYUKHYUKAHHAHAHHA“ 

nobody’s?? really sure?? if he’s dating namjoon or not?? it’s the schools biggest mystery, there’s currently a betting pool going on worth about $500

likes to annoy namjoon and yoongi about holding bake sales. 

is surprisingly good at planning parties?? but never hosts them?? hoseok always gets him to plan his parties and he even planned prom!!

he’s particularly proud with the theme he came up with. 

‘zombie meets elegance‘ 

it was actually pretty nicely pulled off (much to the shock of the entire student body) 

《MIN YOONGI》

student council president 

takes his job very!! seriously!! 

fights with the principal on funding daily. 

doesn’t come to school without coffee and resting bitch face.

even the teachers are afraid of this short little emo boy. 

is the only one who actually wears the school uniform properly with the little tie and jacket because that’s how you show school spirit. 

definitely that closeted gay in high school who thinks nobody knows about his homosexuality when in fact, everyone knows.

(nobody has the guts to bring it up to him though)

“hyung why are you staring at jimin’s as-“

 “-NO WHY GET BACK TO WORK” 

actually enjoys doing morning announcements. 

“make sure to check out jin’s dumb bake sale i think he’s selling brownies for some charitable reason anYWAYS time for min’s advice column!!“ 

min’s advice column is yoongi’s free therapy. namjoon suggested adding an advice column to the school paper so now yoongi just judges his classmates’s decisions gives subpar advice. 

“i personally think you have no chance with this girl, but you’re clearly hell bent on asking her out. it’s a dumb choice. good luck.“ 

《JUNG HOSEOK》

fuckboy

throws obnoxious parties at his parent’s huge ass mansion. 

somehow?? is?? the nicest? playboy??? evER??

will respect your girl’s boundaries but also would 300% hit on her when you’re not looking. 

aftercare king wILL cuddle with you and help you clean up or whatever until jimin eventually comes in screaming. 

his school id says “hobi 💦👅” ... noone knows how he managed to do it (taehyung thinks he seduced the secretary) 

surprisingly good at romance even though he deTests dating

“it’s a waste of time, money, and ass.“  “- what?”

gives everyone dating advice whether they want it or nOt- he lives his *shhh very secret* romantic fantasies through his best friends. 

once helped taehyung ask out his girlfriend... they’re still going strong!!

defo has daddy issues that he never talks about,, maybe if a girl finds it sexc™️ in that kind of messed-up-bad-boy-she-could-fix vibe he’ll bring it up

kinda failing science lmao he probably needs a tutor.. but will never admit he needs a tutor for sake of his pride. 

most definitely has had sex in the janitor’s closet a couple times, up until yoongi caught him once, reported him to the school board and got him suspended... for a month. 

(yoongi has no regrets, that was the best month of his life.)

《KIM NAMJOON》

student vice president

honestly would probably be the council president and is the most qualified for it but can’t be bothered.

plus he hates public speaking and the president has to speak at assemblies.  

genuinely enjoys learning!! bUT HATES GROUP PROJECTS

because every single fucking time taehyung and jimin pester him about teaming up and he ends up doing like 75% of the work.

not because anyone forces him to or anything.

it’s because jimin and tae are such dumbasses every time they finish their work namjoon has a sudden uRGE TO REDO ALL OF IT BC THEY GOT IT WRONG.

tries to take all AP subjects.

gives up and drops half of them by the second semester.

great student but also will “no yoongi i don’t want to fucking play basketball i've been awake for thirty hours trying to finish this goddamn essay that’s due tomorrow. wHAT DO YOU MEAN WHY DIDN’T I DO IT EARLIER I WAS BUSY TAKING CARE OF MY BONSAI TREES.“

started the school paper!! it’s called “persona post”

writes about actual relevant things like political events and global problems, but everyone else just writes about school gossip *sigh*

although that one column examining hobi’s sex and dating life was a pretty fun piece of writing to read through. 

he sits in the back of the classroom and never raises his hand even though he knows the answer like 95% of the time.

definitely has a crush on seokjin

《PARK JIMIN》

the one everyone has a crush on

and when i say everyone i mean everyone, even hoseok has had a crisis over park jimin. 

(jungkook is definitely president of his fan club) ((in case it wasn’t clear, he’s dating jungkook))

school’s golden boy, basically gets away with everything with a bat of an eye... and the most infuriating thing is he doesn’t even realise it. 

“omg jimin!! you’re so cute!! this shirt looks sO good on you, can i touCH?” “omg thank you i didn’t think it fit well because it’s my boyfriends but that’s so sweet!!” “boy... hm?”

mom friend: sweetest bitch alive and is always worrying about his friends but everyone knows he’s secretly really fucking kinky.

(again, jungkook has no comment)

the kind of person who celebrates christmas in june. 

literally- he starts putting decorations in his locker and around the school mid june. by november, he’s wearing reindeer ears to school.

*lowkey kind of a nerd* genuinely enjoys studying with namjoon.

“well, studying with anybody else is just too stressful!! plus, namjoon’s so chill. he doesn’t look like it but he actually is super sweet and nice!!!“

“... please take those reindeer ears off, it’s embarrassing.“ 

half of the school would probably cut off an arm to sleep with him. seriously, he gets offers like everYDAY it’s kinda getting tiRING

is considering starting a youtube channel where he just takes videos of all the dogs and babies he meets throughout the day. 

“idk i think vlogging would be fun“

《KIM TAEHYUNG》

art hoe

nEVER FUCKING STUDIES OR PAYS ATTENTION BUT GETS DECENT GRADES.

the definition of bisexual mess, WILL trip when he sees hot people.

exclusively wears wired gold glasses and soft neutral sweaters to school. if it’s a good day he’ll wear a beanie. on special occasions he’ll maybe throw in some fUN loafers.

dyes his hair to match ~the vibes~ of that season. the most recent wild hair colour is cool toned teal. 

jungkook said he looks like leprechaun shit, but tae really likes it. 

tried to go vegan countless times, failed each and every one when he passed by a mc donalds. 

carries his sketchbook wherever he goes. he has that thing around 24/7, 100% would not be surprised if he slept with it under his pillow.

really quiet until he has a point to make;; like that time where he launched into a three hour screaming lecture on how phineas and ferb is an animated masterpiece.

drinks tea purely for the aesthetic of it. 

goes to hipster coffee shops to pretend to study... ends up watching barbie movies and critiquing them on the writing blog that he thinks nobody knows about. 

watches anime in class (he recently rewatched all of ATLA for the third time,, failed his econ class but worth it!!1!!1)

《JEON JUNGKOOK》

preppy jock

once again, everyone is attracted to him, but he’s so whipped for jimin everyone’s crush fades away once they talk to him because-

“oh it’s so cool that you have a dog!! you know, i think jimin kind of looks like a pomeranian sometimes it’s sO CUTE- hm? oh jimin’s my boyfriend.“

... it’s disgustingly adorable. 

plays almost every sport and is somehow always the team captain. not out of obligation or with leadership skills or anything, everyone else just votes for him. 

mess with his friends and he’ll put a stink bomb in your locker. 

his nickname is “golden baby” because he’s good at everything, teachers love him so much. 

grades? sTELLAR. sports? he’s done them ALL. creativity? pAINTED THE SCHOOL MURAL. service? volunteers at a pet shelter whenever he can (the bunnies love him for some reason) 

everyone either is 

a) in love w him, wants to fuck

b) jealous of him but is also secretly gay for him

pretends to not know how talented and cool he is and plays it off super cool

proceeds to fail, the only thing he’s bad at is humble bragging. 

“wow omg lol i got a 100 on my bio test and yesterday i got a hole in one in golf, my first time playing it but it’s chill i guess hahhah day in my life amirite.“

**this headcanon is the start of the bangtan school series, stay tuned**

wanna be tagged in school series or my writing? here or send me an ask