#maybe it's due to lack of new content

[i-have-a-thing-for-brooms-too]

Happy one year of enjoying mischief to me!

[rexscanonwife]

Sigh I miss star wars sometimes 😔😔

[kamitv]

▷ Premature

Sypnosis . How they react to getting caught jerking off/How they jerk off when you’re not around. / Pairings . (Separate) Toji Fushiguro x f!reader, Geto Suguru x f!reader, Gojo Satoru x f!reader, & Nanami Kento x f!reader / Content . afab!reader, masturbation, pervertedness, praise, needy men, filth, dirty talk, non-curse au, degrading, established relationships etc. / wc . 5.5k

A/N: not proofread in the slightest— I apologize in advance for the errors. This is a mix of two requests; one from my lovely 👍anon; If it's not too much trouble, would you take a request for how JJK men jack it to reader? To a picture, their thoughts, or maybe reader asks them perhaps? & jjk men getting caught jerking off [MDNI]

★ Toji Fushiguro

He’s the kinda guy that you could never be on the phone with past midnight. Why? Cause’ suddenly his voice is getting deeper, his comments are growing more suggestive, and he’s got a hand wrapped around his cock as he gets off to the sound of your voice.

What the hell are you even talking about? He’s got no idea, all he knows is that your soft tone, laced with such a faint sleepiness to it, has his cock aching within his hand.

You wouldn’t even notice he’s jerking off for a while either, not until he groans out your name.

The sound makes your entire body freeze and all you can do is stare at your phone, tipping your head to the side curiously before you tap on your phone to bring the ongoing phone call to the forefront of your screen.

You’d get quiet and he’d get louder, grunting out an all too deep, “Fuck,” That has you smiling to yourself a little. Especially when you hear him grunting as if he were trying to keep his sounds in.

But, your moment of confidence only lasts until the deep baritone of his voice snaps you out of it, “Keep fuckin’ talkin’, doll,” Toji orders and god does he sound sexy like this.

There’s the faintest hint of need in his voice that has you biting your lower lip to hold back the toothy smile trying to present itself on your face. Gulping, “Toji…” You murmur, and your ears don’t miss how he sighs heavily.

On his end, he’s got his legs sprawled out and his head tosses back at the sound of you calling his name, “What?” He’d huff, almost as if what he’s doing hasn’t become rather obvious to you.

Your voice is suddenly closer to the phone and it makes Toji grunt, “You okay over there? Y’sound… busy,” You utter teasingly.

“Mmmh… mhm, m’fine, jus’-, hahh, keep… keep talkin’,” His long pauses and heavy exhales were making you squirm on your end. You could only imagine how he looked right now— big hand wrapped around his cock as he gave himself quick tugs to the sound of your voice.

You start to shift around in your bed and almost forget to respond as you listen closely. Turning your volume up, you could hear almost everything. His sounds became vivid, a messy noise of spit heard as Toji wets his cock up in ways he’s known you to, his hand jerking his dick in quicker pulls due to the slickness of his saliva and precum mixing together.

“Hahhh, fuck,” Toji pants and starts slowing his hand down just so he can speak properly, “Why’d y’stop talkin’? Hm?”

“I uh… I thought I heard something, sorry,” You hum as you fake cluelessness. “Anywho, what was I saying again? Do you remember?”

Ah, you’d decided to test him thinking he wasn’t paying attention at all to what you were discussing earlier. Jokes on you, Toji knows how to multitask (sometimes), “Uh, you were tellin’ me about your day or somethin’,” He hums casually.

“Riight,” You chuckle. An idea pops into your mind and you decide to use his lack of full attention to what you were previously discussing to your advantage, “Well, me and my friends went to this new sweet spot today.”

“Yeah? ‘Nd what else, doll?” Toji sounded so clearly occupied but he was trying his best to just get you to keep talking. Every word that left your lips went straight to his cock.

You grin, “Well, it was pretty hot today so I got lucky they had popsicles! The one I got was suuper big, could’ hardly fit it in my mouth,” You explain.

Was this story true? Not exactly, but when else do you get the opportunity to tease your boyfriend like this?

Toji’s eyes flicker as he processes what the hell you just said to him, his cock twitching at the thought of your lips parting to take something large into your mouth— you knew what the hell you were doing to him and he was starting to pick up on it.

Swallowing thickly, Toji hums, “Oh yeah? Reminds me of a couple of other things that can’t really fit in your mouth…”

“Hm? Like what, Toji?” You murmur innocently.

Your voice had softened by a lot and it drove him crazy. Such a clear false innocence laced into your question had the man picturing your expression. The way you’re probably sitting there with your eyes all wide and curious, batting those pretty lashes of yours like you don’t know what the hell you’re asking him.

Scoffing, “Don’t play dumb, y’know what the hell m’talkin’ about.” Toji drawls out, voice a bit rougher with you.

You ignore his little attitude and let out a giggle, “Do I?”

“Yeah, y’do,” Your boyfriend huffs. His breathing is noticeably heavier and little did you know, he had his head resting back and his eyes on the ceiling as he fisted his cock rapidly, slick sounds masked by his voice every time he spoke.

As if to make his state worse, your voice dips into something more sultry, “I’m really not sure Toji… What else is too big to fit in my mouth? Hm?” You hum.

“Fuck-,” Toji lets out a slight gasp, his breath stuttering for a moment before he grunts, “My cock, baby. Y’know this.”

The way he gave up on getting you to say it first has you smiling, “Mmmh, I dunno Toji,” God you were saying his name too much and it was making his balls ache, “I had your cock down my throat perfectly fine the other day if I recall correctly.”

“Filthy fuckin’ girl,” Toji abruptly rasps out, making you gulp as you felt a throb in your core, “Where’d y’learn to talk like that, huh?”

You snicker, “From my boyfriend who enjoys jerking off to the sound of my voice.”

And just like that, Toji can feel his orgasm approaching— damn you and your slick remarks, you only ever acted like this over the phone. You knew better in person but, he didn’t mind right now.

“Hahh, fuck you,” Toji fires back.

“You want to right now, don’t you?” You were getting confident all of a sudden and he groans before shutting his mouth just to listen to you speak. “Wanna feel my tongue on your cock, huh?”

His hand squeezes onto his cock and a strangled grunt leaves the back of his throat, “Shit-,” Toji’s haw drops a little, “Don’t stop talkin’, m’close.”

“Yeah? Gonna cum thinkin’ about fuckin’ my throat, right?” You murmur.

And he definitely was, it’s all he could think about right now. Especially with how bold you were being, how could he not picture you on your knees and taking his cock down your throat as he face fucks you just to teach you a lesson about talking to him like this?

Then you just kept going, “…Or jus’ from me talking? Y’like my voice that much, Toji?” You ask.

He’s on his end just nodding as his brows furrow— when the hell was he this damn needy for you? “Yes, fuck… fuckin’ hell, yes, I fuckin’ love your voice baby,” Toji tells you.

God you wish you could see him right now. You just know he’s sweating, cockhead angry and leaking at your every word, big thighs parted yet jittery as he gets closer and closer.

“C’mon then big guy, cum f’me so you can come over,” Suddenly your tone is aroused and Toji’s squeezing his eyes shut in frustration.

“S’late, doll,” He argues.

You tut, “Yeah well listenin’ to you jerk off turned me on so now you’ve gotta come over ‘nd deal with it.”

Some nerve you had. As if you wouldn’t be the one all teary eyed and pouty after a few kisses from him…

Yet, Toji’s not thinking about that right now, mindlessly agreeing just because he needs you right now and his hand is starting not to cut it anymore, “Hahhh, alright-, shit. Whatever the fuck you want, doll. I’ll be over in ten.”

You snicker, “Make it five.”

He swears you’ll be the death of him.

Scoffing, “Needy ass girl… agh… can’t wait ten minutes?”

“You couldn’t wait til’ I got off the phone to jerk off?” You argue.

He’s smirking despite the slight irritation that creeps up on him due to how bratty you were being, “…Shut up.”

You smile, “Come shut me up.”

“Oh I’m about to.”

★ Geto Suguru

Moaning your name as if that’ll cause your hand to be wrapped around his cock instead of your panties— Suguru uses your clothes to get off when you’re not around.

He doesn’t bother to call you or text you. It’s usually late when he gets like this so he just uses the lace panties you “accidentally” left over at his place.

Sometimes he’s got the fabric wrapped around his cock as he jerks off and other times he’s got it pressed up to his nose, inhaling what little of your scent he could get as his hips fuck into the O-shape he’s created with his hand. If he inhales strong enough, he swears he can still smell your pussy and that alone makes his eyes roll to the back of his head.

“Fuuuck,” Geto moans unashamed into the air. What’s he gotta hold his voice back for? Even if you were to ever catch him like this, he knows you’re just as much of a perv as he is.

His hand has a strong grip on his base as he gets himself off with your panties. Just thinking about how the fabric clung to your cunt for hours on end has his cock dripping pre onto the floor.

“Fuckin’ miss you, agh,” Suguru would groan thoughtlessly into the air, recalling the last time he had your pussy on his tongue, how sweet how tasted, how addicting you are.

Within said imagination, he doesn’t even realize he’s moving your panties to his mouth, his tongue seeping out and pressing into the fabric as if that’ll give him a taste of you again. Is it the same as sucking on your cunt til’ your legs are shaking? No, of course not. Does it make Geto’s hand milk the fuck out of his cock? Well, yes.

Light and faint whines slip past his lips, “Ha-ahh… taste so fuckin’ good, baby,” Geto groans like you’re right there with him.

Shit, he wants you on his tongue again. He can never get enough of it— the way your pussy sloshes all over his mouth every time he eats you out, how you whine his name and beg him for a break, or even the way you get greedy as your orgasm nears and you start bucking your hips against him.

Either way, it’s all he can think about right now. And it doesn’t get any better when his eyes open and looks down at himself, your panties clung tightly in between his teeth as he envisions you below him with a mouth wide and ready for him.

Oh the way you always take his cock down your throat never fails to make his eyes cross. You’d suck on him like your life depended on it, moaning against his shaft whenever he started thrusting into your mouth or whining when he forces your head down some more.

And he’s so close as he thinks about it more— picturing your wet lips parted around his flushed tip, drool slipping out the corner of your mouth, and your tongue slipping against him languidly-

“Suguru?” The sound of your voice makes him moan in surprise before he’s turning his head to look at you.

Even caught in the act, he only gets turned on even more. His brows tense and he pants heavily as his eyes meet yours, quickly noticing the way your gaze dropped down to his achingly hard cock.

You were supposed to be asleep out on his living room couch where he’d left you moments ago but yet, here you were— standing with your eyes all wide and curious, taking careful steps toward the man as you cross your arms, and giving him this look that drives him crazy.

You gulp loudly as you look up to your boyfriend’s face, “Are those my panties in your mouth?”

“M-Mmhm,” Geto hums with an impatient nod of his head.

Your lashes bat at the man before you find yourself standing right in front of him, placing but a single hand on his chest before taking the other and removing the lace from the man’s mouth.

“That’s filthy Sugu,” You whisper carefully.

The way his lips part and how his eyes lower on you, a groan slipping from him due to how close your body was and the way you’d touched him so softly. “Uhuh, I know, baby,” His voice has the faintest shake to it as he mumbles out an answer.

Smiling slightly, you keep your eyes directly up on his despite his hand not stopping on his cock for even a second, “You could’ve woken me up if you needed me, Suguru.” You utter.

He cracks a lazy grin for a moment, “I jus’ needed your panties.”

You frown and your brows tense a bit, “…Pervert.” You whisper, watching how his body twitches in reaction before he’s leaning his face down and closer to yours.

“Mhm,” Geto hums, “Yeahhh, tha’s me, princess. Keep tellin’ me how fuckin’ nasty I am.” Your boyfriend purrs, earning a wide eyed look from you as you gaze up at him in surprise.

You comply, trailing a single finger down along his chest as you tip your head to the side and speak, “You’re filthy Sugu, gettin’ off with my panties… Bet you wanted to get caught like this too.”

“Maybe,” Geto tells you with that awfully cocky grin on his face, “But you’re not any better. I caught you fingerin’ yourself to my voice last week.”

You gulp, “T-That was…”

He’s leaning down past your face and you flinch as his lips make sudden contact with your neck, “Different, huh?” He rasps out, hot breath tickling the side of your neck.

Tense, your hand stops moving along his body and you angle yourself to look down at how aggressively he’s fisting his cock right now, “Yeah…” You murmur, completely distracted by the sight below you.

His hand got faster on his cock, quicker tugs made the longer you stared down at him and cum leaking from his tip as he grunted against your neck.

“Sure it was,” Geto whispers, but his voice is a lot lighter than you expected it to be. “Now are you gonna just stand here and watch me jerk off or are y’gonna get on your knees ‘nd take care of me?” He asks, lifting his face a little to kiss the space below your ear.

You unconsciously lick your lips the longer you stare down at his cock, watching him drip onto the floor and make the slightest mess before you chuckle, “That’s no way to ask, Sugu.”

He scoffs against you but you don’t miss the quietest whine leaving his throat before he speaks, “Funny cause I wasn’t fuckin’ askin’.”

“Oh?” You snicker at your boyfriend before turning your head to meet his gaze, “You’re mean when you get caught in the act…”

He stares you down and resists every neuron in his body that’s telling him to press his lips into yours, “Am I?”

“Mhm, as if you’re not embarrassed,” You tease. God you were driving him crazy— looking at him so longingly, your lips nearly on his, your body warm with how close you were to him and your hand low and near his cock.

Fuck, one more touch from you and he’d be cumming in seconds. “I’m not.” Geto replies to you.

You pull your lower lip into your mouth for a second and his gaze drops, “You sure? Y’know how long I was watchin’ you before I said something?”

“Fuck, how long baby?” He practically mumbles. He needed your touch so badly, you were too close to not be all over him right now and his restraint was waning by the second.

“A few minutes, saw you puttin’ my panties to your nose ‘nd everything,” As you speak, your hands are lifting and his eyes are widening.

Your arms wrap around his neck and he’s forced to stop his hand on his cock before he blows his load too soon, “Yeah?” He breathes.

You nod and inch closer, “Mhm.”

“Bet that got you all hot ‘nd bothered, huh?” Geto whispers, cocking his head to the side before placing a hand to your waist and holding you tenderly, “That’s why you said somethin’ right? Cause y’like watchin’ me like this?”

Your eyes were on his lips now and you’d half-heard everything he just said, shrugging out a little, “Maybe…” In response before your lips are finally on his.

Geto can’t even control the groan that pours out of him while his lips move over yours, tongue slotting into your mouth and hand squeezing onto your waist as if to tell you not to move.

The kiss doesn’t even last that long before he’s letting out a whine as his cockhead brushes against your body, “Fuck-, enough of this teasin’, I need you princess.”

★ Gojo Satoru

You were going to take it upon yourself to ask your husband how he jerks off when you’re not around but instead of answering your text with an explanation like a normal person— he sends you a video.

Unfiltered, less than a second after clicking on the video, you’re met with his glistening cock on your screen. Slicked with spit and precum trailing along his veins, a pretty pink tip twitching for some attention, and a bright flash from his cellphone giving you the perfect view of his lower half.

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t squeeze your legs together as soon as you started the video. Then there’s his voice that you hear about five seconds in.

“Wanted to see how I jerk off, huh? Dirty girl,” Oh his tone was low with you, the sound filling your ears as you bat your lashes and gulped. Thank god for your headphones, despite being home alone, because you could hear every little sound. “You’re lucky I was already in the middle of it when you texted, y’know.”

Although he can’t hear you, you scoff, “Slut.”

“Got’ this hard thinkin’ about you,” Gojo whispers suddenly, his slender fingers wrapping around his cock carefully, “I miss you, pretty girl,” His words and the way he’s slowly touching himself for you has your body hot and it’s only been a few seconds.

Pulling your bottom lip in between your teeth, your eyes narrow on his hand— how tenderly it slides up and up until he reaches his tip, the way his thumb runs in between the slit of his cockhead and he lets out a hiss.

Then his hand lowers and the sound that follows is so wet, “Fuuck, I wish it was you touchin’ me right now. You always make me feel s’good,” Gojo pants unintentionally, “Miss your lips on me too. How long’s it been? A week? Fuckin’ hate leavin’ you for work…”

You chuckle lightly at his moment of rambling but the way his hand picks up in speed ever so slightly has your smile fading and your focus returning. Sometimes you wonder how he even fits inside you— his cock is so long and from his base to his tip, he looks like he’d split you open (he does).

Your thighs are squeezing together again and you’re starting to miss him the more you watch, the vivid and deep sound of Gojo humming your name causing a chill to slip down your spine.

And you swear you were about to get to the best part of the video he’s sent because his hand was moving at a quickened pace but you’re interrupted by an incoming video call from the man in question.

You practically jump out of your skin due to your ringtone before you scramble to answer it.

Batting your eyelashes as the call connects, you swallow hard, “H-Hello-“

“Knowin’ you’re watchin’ that video isn’t enough f’me,” Gojo huffs out— now he’s got the camera propped up for you and you can see most of his body.

His shirt is long gone, same with his sweats, his legs are spread far and wide, hard and throbbing cock standing straight up as his hand tugs at it in needy little pulls. Gojo’s got his head tossed back and you have the clearest view of his sweaty Adam’s apple, a slip of sweat sliding down along his chest.

He’s panting like crazy and his hand is fucking his cock much more aggressively than he was in that video you’d been watching, “Show me somethin’ baby, I fuckin’ need you,” Gojo huffs impatiently as he shifts his head back into place to meet your gaze on his screen.

You gulp, “S-Satoru, I-“

“Please?” He whines so suddenly and it has your pussy throbbing, especially with how he lifts his hips into his hand because of simply looking at your face, “Wanna see somethin’ pretty, show me your pussy, please?”

It's almost embarrassing how fast you move for your needy husband, going to prop your own phone up similar to how he’s done his and then discarding your clothes in a heartbeat.

“Spread yourself apart f’me, baby,” Gojo groans out his instructions and you’re following his every word— parting your legs wider and moving two finds to your cunt to spread your pussy apart for him.

“Mmh, like this, ‘Toru?” You utter with a slightly shaky hand and an embarrassed expression.

You see the way Gojo’s jaw sinks a little and how his brows furrow as he fists his cock faster, almost eagerly, “Juus’ like that, sweetheart-, fuck. I miss bein’ inside you,” Gojo says before tilting his head to really study your cunt, “Look how wet y’re f’me ‘nd I’m not even there, shit.”

You’ve got your pointer and ring finger holding your cunt open and you shift your middle finger to give yourself the slightest bit of relief, “It’s cause of your video..”

“Yeah?” Gojo smiles, “Y’liked watchin’ me jerk off?”

His hand slows, palm steadily traveling down along his shaft as a whine leaves him. Your pretty pussy on full display for him and making his balls twitch. He wanted to be fucking you full of him so badly.

“Uhuh,” Your softer tone hits his ears and Gojo grunts.

“Shiiit,” He breathes out before biting his bottom lip. He’d started to drool without even realizing it and his cock was dripping in cum already, “Look at that pussy leak f’me-, holy fuck.” Your husband moans, “My voice get you like this too?”

You’ve started to tease yourself with merely one finger and you can’t move your eyes away from his needy cock, “M-Mhm…” You hum.

“Aww, baby…” Gojo coos. Then you were slipping two fingers into yourself and trying your best to get off along with him, “Look at your fingers tryin’ t’please you like how I do,” He cracks a smile, “Doesn’t feel the same, does it?”

Shaking your head, “N-No, ‘Toru. I need you.”

“Hahh, need you too baby,” Gojo moans, hand picking back up. The faintest plp plp plp followed his movements as bits of cum dripped from his cockhead and onto the floor, “Look at how fuckin’ hard I am cause of you.” He huffs just before glancing down to himself.

Ah, he was making a mess but he was a bit too dazed with arousal to pay any mind to it right now.

You bite your lip and hum before tipping your head back and shutting your eyes, “Mmmh…”

“M’gonna get home and fuck you til’ we both pass out, I swear.” Gojo huffs. His voice is airy and his hand is getting a bit messy now.

Your lips part and you exhale heavily, “Can’t wait.”

“Yeah? Y’can’t wait huh?” Your husband grunts, practically fucking his cock up into his hand at this point, “Maybe I’ll get ya' pregnant so I have an excuse not t’leave you like this.”

Your legs start to close a little and you moan, “Satoru, m-mgh…”

“Fuck, m’gonna cum,” He groans pornographically into the air, “Wish I was cummin’ inside you, fuckin’ you nice ‘nd full, watchin’ you make a mess on me-, hahh… agh…” His lips quiver a bit as he gets close and he’s panting so hard that the camera is starting to fog up a little.

“T-Toru,” You whine for him— missing him oh so desperately now that you’re nearing your own orgasm.

“Yeah, mhm, m’here baby,” Gojo chants, breath heavy and hand jolting up and down his cock fervently, “C’mon, cum with me. You can do it f’me pretty girl.”

You’re nodding, he’s nodding— both of you are getting there together and whining each other’s names. Gojo’s veins are popping up on his hand with how tightly his gripping onto his cock and his mouth hangs open, eyelids heavy and vision blurring while he moans your name.

“Miss you so fuckin’ much,” Gojo groans finally before he glances to his phone to see you releasing all over your fingers— the sight leads him to cum right then and there with his kegs trembling slightly.

Fuck, he needed to get home soon.

★ Nanami Kento

You were surprised to walk in on your boss jerking off.

“Oh fuck,” Echoed into the air, his voice thick with lust as he hadn’t even noticed you’d entered his office yet.

With the way his desk was, you could see everything. His muscular thighs parted like a damn slut, cock barely tugged out of his slacks, big veiny hand working to bring himself to an orgasm.

Truth be told, it’s your fault he’s like this— his cute lil’ assistant, walking around in those tight ass skirts he’s asked you not to wear thousands of times over again. And yet you do it anyway. Maybe because you know where it gets you with your boss or maybe because you wanted a situation exactly like this.

Sure, he’s your boss but he’s also the same man that fucks you til’ you can’t walk straight whenever you request him to do so.

But this? Well, you’ve never been so aroused by walking in on a man pleasing himself before. It had to be his deep groans of your name or even the size of his cock and how it exceeded the size of his hand, how you could picture your own hands around it and how you know your hands would be so pale in comparison.

Nanami’s got his eyes shut and he’s huffing and puffing through his nose, chest rising and falling rapidly the more he stokes his cock. All he can think about is you and the way you bent over in front of him less than thirty minutes ago.

He had half a mind to call you into his office and tell you to bend over his desk the same way— thinking of fucking your tight cunt til’ you’re making too much noise and he has to shove two thick fingers in your mouth to shut you up.

“Fuuck,” It’s rare you even hear him curse so to hear his mouth so vulgar now has you swallowing hard before you lock his office door with a slight click following.

His eyes bat open and he doesn’t bother stopping because he already knew it was you who’d walked in, you’re the only one who does so without knocking.

“Sir?” You utter gently, making his face twist up in arousal.

“Here, now.” Is all he can grunt out to you.

You’re moving toward him obediently with your panties soaking the closer you get. “Mr.-“

“Kento,“ He utters, “Please, fuck-, just… hahh, say my name, sweetheart.”

“Kento,” You correct in a sultry tone, “I didn’t know you were… occupied in here. What if someone else walked in-“

Nanami rolls his eyes at you and then lets off a scoff, “No one but you would,” He huffs, “Now get on my desk.”

You freeze as you find yourself standing right beside his desk, “What?”

“Don’t make me repeat myself-, just…” He trails off a little once his eyes meet yours and you watch his lashes flutter while his brows pinch together, “Oh fuck, I need… hah, fuuck.”

You chew on your bottom lip before smirking and stepping past his desk, closer to him, “Need what, Ken? Get it out…” You whisper.

“Damn vixen,” Nanami groans as he tosses his head back.

Glancing down at his cock, you watch as his tip grows a bit white— cum peeping out from his fat cockhead and making you swallow thickly.

You then look back up to his face and start leaning down, placing your hands on the armrests of his chair to keep yourself up before uttering, “Do you want me to touch you?”

His response is instant, “God, yes.”

“How?” You murmur with a smirk, shifting your legs so that they straddle one of his, “How do you want me to touch you?”

Nanami opens his eyes and yet again and he grunts at how ridiculously close you are to him, “Anywhere.”

You tease, “Anywhere?”

“Yes, hurry up,” Nanami pleads. His voice nearly went desperate for you and you swore you heard something needy underlining in his tone.

Playing off of that, “Needy are we?” You comment before seating yourself on his thigh.

“Yes,” He gulps and begins to stammer while your arms wrap around his neck, “J-Just-“

Oh he can’t even finish his request before your lips are pressing into his neck and he’s groaning loudly. Cock aching for you whilst your lips move along his tensed skin. Each kiss from you earned groan after groan from him, the sound vibrating against his throat and his hand squeezing his cock tighter.

“Fuck,” Nanami curses yet again as you kiss below his sharp jawline.

“You’re one naughty man, y’know. Did you want me to catch you like this?” You murmur against his warm skin, feeling the way he tenses up to your voice.

Nodding and humming a carefully little, “Mhm,” In response, Nanami’s completely at your mercy now, silently begging for you to continue down the path you’re on.

You smile and glance down to his hand still working his cock, cunt clenching around nothing the longer you stare, “Ken…”

“Y-Yes?” He stutters a bit and mentally curses himself for it— he knows you’ll tease him more about it later.

Planting another kiss beneath his jaw, you chuckle, “You’re drippin’ onto the floor,” You utter so seductively that he just groans and throws his head back again. “Makin’ suuch a big mess all because of… what? Hm?”

“You,” He huffs, “You and that… that fucking skirt,” Nanami says through gritted teeth.

“Well,” You whisper with a slight smile still on your face, “If you have a problem with it you can always take it off of me.”

His free hand is gripping onto your waist faster than you have time to react and you let out a slight noise in surprise. Nanami’s lifting his head and angling himself to your neck, lips latching onto you as he lets out a groan like a man starved.

“Yeah?” He hushes out.

Then he’s pushing you back slightly and releasing his cock, both of you soon shoved to your feet with how quick and swift his movements are. He has you stumbling backwards until you bump into his desk and then there’s a hand grabbing at the side of your neck, tugging you into a deep kiss.

It’s hot and heavy, even as he pulls away from you and pants, lifting a thumb to drag your lower lip down, “Lay back and spread your legs for me then,” Nanami murmurs in that deep tone of his.

You gulp, “Sir, I-“

He cuts you off by slipping his thumb into your mouth, “You said I could get that skirt off of you. Don’t go back on your word and do as I said.”

Gazing at him for a singular moment longer, you lift yourself onto his desk and start parting your legs for the man. His thumb leaves your mouth and his finger is slightly wet as he places his palms to your thighs, slipping his grasp up to your hips and beneath that skirt of yours.

The fabric starts bundling up at you hips and you let out a sigh as you lean your upper half back.

Then, Nanami moves to tug at his tie and sends you a look of warning, “And don’t be too loud like last time… You don’t want others to hear how much of a slut you are behind closed doors, right?”

You release a scoff, “Says the man who was jerking off in his office.”

He freezes before smiling slightly, “Touché.”

[fatuismooches]

Could you please write about the Harbingers spending time with the reader on their birthdays? But maybe they send what they did with you as a letter to the Traveler like the in-game feature? :D

♡ 𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬' 𝐁𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐋𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 ♡

synopsis: The Traveler naturally expects mail in their inbox whenever the Harbingers' birthdays roll around. However, they didn't expect it to be so... lovey-dovey, and all about you.

includes: all harbingers w/ gn! reader

notes: I've finally finished it! I've been wanting to write something similar to my voice line post for a while, so here it is - the Harbingers sending birthday mail, except they're very down bad for you :3 Includes a letter, a photograph, and attached items with the letter! (Sorry to the Pulcinella fans, I was too lazy to write him in.)

“Home…”

Sender: Pierro

It is my birthday today. Normally, I would have continued on my day as usual, but [Name] had another idea in mind, going so far as to get the Tsaritsa herself to block the door to my office and then dragging me away. It seems they were planning this for a while… The last birthday I celebrated was the year Khaenri’ah fell. What purpose did today serve when my homeland and people were gone? As the years went on, it began to slip my mind and I nearly would have forgotten the date, were it not for [Name]’s question a while ago. I thought nothing of it, but I did not think [Name] would have taken this so seriously.

They knew I would enjoy anything so long as it was with them, yet they had the entire day planned out. Claiming that I needed some fresh air, we walked through the Snezhnayan streets, the normally biting frost a bit warmer than usual. Casual browsing at some new stores that opened up. [Name]’s attempt at starting a snowball fight. And lastly… grocery shopping.

When we got back, they wouldn’t let me help or look. But I could tell from the smell exactly what they were making. It turns out that they managed to make a dish from my home country. I am not sure how they managed to get a hold of this recipe… I must have mentioned it offhandedly and they improvised from there. Of course, it’s not an exact replica, but nonetheless, it tasted delicious. Just for a few minutes, I was taken back to my previous home. That home will never come back, but I have a new one now.

And now the day is almost over. Despite their best efforts to stay awake until the end of the day, they succumbed to their sleepiness, now lying on my lap. They were supposed to read me something they made, but perhaps I’ll find out what that was tomorrow. 

Tomorrow will be back to normal again. But that is alright. I still do not believe I deserve a day like today but, if this is what [Name] desires, then I shall not refuse them again. I’ll look forward to the next birthday just as they do.

Attached Photograph:

A picture is included with the letter that has Pierro and you in it. The Harbinger is seated at a table with a homemade dish in front of him. His giant coat and mask are placed off to the side, revealing scars from long ago. You’re glued to his side, trying to feed him by holding the spoon close to his mouth. Pierro is a grown man, the Traveler thinks, he does not need you to feed him… However, he looks quite content with this arrangement so the blonde won’t question it any further. In fact, he looks as if he’s right at home.

Attached Items:

Ancient Khaenri’ahn Dish [A meal unique to Khaneri’ah that has long been forgotten by the world. Although you clearly struggled to make it due to a lack of experience, even the Traveler can taste how much of your love was put into it.]

Khaenri’ahn Story Book [A book that contains numerous fairy tales and various stories originating from the lost nation, written by none other than Pierro himself, and illustrated by you. Apparently, it was born from you begging him to tell you stories from his home, and eventually, the Harbinger began to write them down so you could read them instead of bothering him so often. However, it made the problem worse as now you bother him to read them to you. How sweet.]

—

“A Day Off.”

Sender: Dottore

[Name] has convinced me to go back to Sumeru with them for a couple of days. I couldn’t care less about this day, but they were adamant about spending the whole day with me, and that they “will not be spending my birthday in a dark gloomy lab again.” 

My research has regrettably halted for a bit, but I suppose this was not a bad idea. This was the first time in many years that either of us had stepped foot back into Sumeru - we had not been back since I was expelled from the Akademiya, besides my segments of course.

[Name] and I trekked the same path we used to walk during our studies at the Akademiya. It was a good spot for studying and conducting experiments without any disturbances - that was until they started following me around. They were a nuisance at first… but eventually, [Name] began to help me deconstruct a variety of machines, which was helpful. And then would laugh at me whenever I ended up breaking them. 

Ever since I met them, [Name] has always said a lot of strange things, but their most recent comment was that they wanted to drink the blue liquid in the vial I carry around. They think it looks… tropical and vibrant. Of course, I refused them. But I had a feeling that if I didn’t provide them with it, they’d try and get it themselves. I was not interested in having to inject an antidote into them, so I came up with a solution.

I know that I am no chef, but this goes outside the realm of cooking. It wasn’t hard to create a sweet drink that would be to [Name]’s liking with the same color. They were more pleased than I thought and demanded that I make it for them more often. I do not care much for nourishment, but perhaps I’ll try my hand at it more often. They have insisted that I send you some, too. So, Traveler, is it to your liking as well? Even if it’s not, I do not care, so don’t bother telling me.

Attached Photograph:

A picture is included with the letter that has Dottore and you in it. Despite how much the Traveler has explored Sumeru, they can’t seem to pinpoint the location where it was taken. It must really be a secret place, just for the two of you. Dottore’s mask is on his lap, revealing crimson eyes and scarred skin. You seem to have fallen asleep on his shoulder, as your eyes are closed, though your mouth seems to be agape, perhaps mumbling some nonsense in your sleep. Dottore’s expression is exasperated, but there is a certain fondness in his eyes, one that the Traveler can’t distinguish, or rather, they refuse to believe it. Did the Kamera have an editing function now? Because surely, the photograph must have been forged or something, because there was no way The Doctor could ever have such a tender look in his eyes… 

Attached Items:

Strange Blue Concoction [Some kind of legitimate drink that’s the same color as the vial Dottore carries around. According to [Name], it is quite delicious, but would any sane person dare to try anything from The Doctor of all people…? Who knows, these two might be trying to poison the blonde.]

Assortment of Ruin Guard Parts [Parts from Ruin Guards Dottore created and assembled himself. A wide variety of parts are here, including Chaos Cores, Circuits, and Devices. Wait… they seem to all be damaged and broken. Hey, did Dottore just send the Traveler his useless parts?!]

—

“Care For A Show?” 

Sender: Columbina

Hello dear Traveler! How are you?~ Today has been such a wonderful day. Why, you ask? Because it’s my birthday of course! ♪ The one day when I have the ability to drag my beloved [Name] wherever I want, with no resistance. Normally they protest for quite a bit, telling me I have a mountain of work to do but, they don’t need to worry their pretty little head about that. ♫ Is it that much of a crime to slack off to spend time with one’s beloved? But oh, that little routine of ours is something that I do cherish.

My dearest [Name] took me to a play. We were among the first to see it, as it was the opening day. You know, they always tell me that as a Harbinger, I should be more conscious of how I present myself. But is it really a problem to sit in their lap instead of my chair? It’s not like anyone can see us all the way up on the balcony seats, hmm? ♬ Moving on though~ The play was quite an interesting story. 

It was of an angel who fell in love with a mere human, despite how taboo it was. When the two were caught, the angel had to decide - would she rather retain their purity and remain in the heavens or fall down, stripped of her divinity to be with her human? Well, if you want to see the ending, you’ll just have to come to Snezhnaya and watch it yourself. ♪ But do tell me Traveler, if you were in a situation like that, what would you choose? … I already know what my choice would be.

Ah, but that show was not even the best part! After that, [Name] put on their own performance for me, just the two of us. It was beautiful of course, the way they convey their choice of art is always worthy of praise. But, they always seem to seek my feedback and criticism… they told me they want to keep improving to make me even more pleased but, how many times do I need to explain to them that I already believe their craft is beautiful? Nevertheless, I do indulge them, if only to satisfy my love. Why don’t you take a look at one of our collaborations, Traveler? It is quite good if I do say so myself. ♫

Attached Photograph:

A picture is included with the letter that has Columbina and you in it. The lighting in the theater is a bit dim, so your figures are a bit faded but, the Traveler can still make out the two of you. The two of you have separate chairs but, Columbina is practically spilling onto yours, her head comfortably resting against your chest. You seem as though this is normal for you, which it probably is. Wait, is Columbina sleeping? It seems she probably got bored during the intermission… That’s why you specifically chose your clothes to double as a blanket for your wife.

Attached Items:

Music Score [A music score composed by both you and Columbina. The two of you performed it perfectly together as a present to your wife. Of course, it’s bound to be mesmerizing considering Columbina’s participation. So hauntingly beautiful, that in fact, it might end your life before you get to the end… is that an exaggeration? Well, it seems like the Traveler will have to take that risk.]

Pair of Tickets [Tickets gifted to the Traveler and Paimon. There’s no name on it or any expiration date, so it can be used to watch a single play in Snezhnaya for free, with the best seats in-house, so pick carefully. These things are quite expensive, so don’t go losing them now! Otherwise, Columbina and [Name] might ban the traveling duo from the theater…]

—

“An Excellent Day.”

Sender: Capitano

Today is my birthday. However, I have never been very adept at celebrating this day. I realize that it is the norm to celebrate one’s birthday, but I have never felt the need to. Though, ever since I became a Harbinger, my recruits have always wished me well today. Unfortunately, when the bolder ones ask me what I have planned, I have nothing interesting to respond with, always prompting them to urge me to do something… In the hallways, I always hear conversations along the lines of even though being a Harbinger is busy, I deserve to do something nice on my birthday. But in reality, it does not bother me at all. Is it really that strange not to do anything on one’s birthday?

When [Name] found out how I normally spend my birthdays, they shared a similar sentiment and promised to make this one “the most eventful and fun and best one I’ve ever had.” They said that since this is our first year together, they need to make my birthday an excellent one. Although I tried to reassure them they needn’t try so hard for me, they were insistent. However, true to their word, I would say my birthday did end up being an excellent one.

One thing about [Name] is they never fail to teach me something new. In this case, they taught me what it means to celebrate a birthday, and I’d say I learned a lot. As stated by them, there is no exact or definite way to celebrate. It is what you make of it. And they, knowing the kind of man I was, chose the activities accordingly. (There were a few mishaps but everything went well for the most part. It is not customary to break a few knives while cutting cake, so I feared that I may have ruined things, but [Name] reassured me it was normal.)

So all in all, today was an excellent day. However, I am faced with a problem now. What should I do when [Name]’s birthday comes? Should I do the same thing they did for me? But would they think that is low effort and unoriginal? I do not wish to disappoint them. Traveler, do you have any ideas? Also, please ask Tartaglia for me as well. The last time I spoke to him, he tried to ask me for a duel.

Attached Photograph:

A picture is included with the letter that has Capitano and you in it. The snowy forest terrain looks as picturesque as ever, but what really draws attention is the man and his lover in the middle. Mostly, the Harbinger who has a squirrel or two perched on him, not to mention the few birds that made their nest in the fluff of his coat. And even some cats? Where did they come from?! Well, it’s best not to question it. It’s rather endearing. Rather, one should question how silent and unmoving the Captain is in an effort to not disturb all the animals. Just ignore the deer in the background waiting for some attention too.

Attached Items:

How To Celebrate Your Birthday Pamphlet [A collaboration between Capitano’s Fan Club and [Name]. The fan club loves you immensely because you help to put their long-awaited plans into action. The numerous activities in this guide (blowing out the candles, feeding each other cake, gift giving, lots of affection, etc) were written out by the club and dutifully carried out by you. There were also birthday punches, but Capitano was confused as to why you were tickling him.]

Capitano and [Name]’s Picture Book [Don’t tell anyone this, but Capitano has a tendency to name all the creatures of the forest near his mansion. At first, he went there to train, but decided against it after seeing all the animals around there, because he doesn’t want to scare them away. What he did not expect was to befriend all of them… you came across him one day talking to them after searching for him. How can he tell them apart? Even you don’t know. But this book is dedicated to all of his animal friends, with pictures taken by you of course. So if the Traveler happens to visit Snezhnaya someday, make sure to be nice to these little guys!]

—

“They’re Annoying…”

Sender: Wanderer

It is that time of year again when my birthday rolls around. You know very well I do not care much for this day, but once again, there are always annoyances at my every turn… Both Lesser Lord Kusanali and [Name] always prove to be a thorn in my side on this day. In the past, I usually spent my birthdays under the sakura trees in Inazuma, visiting [Name]. But, things have changed now. I no longer am who I once was, and my relationship with [Name] is no longer the same. They have forgotten me, and our past together… but Lesser Lord Kusanali has forced us to interact again numerous times, leading to our current relationship. Lesser Lord Kusanali always pats my back, saying that time will lead us back to each other… how irritating. 

Speaking of her being irritating, she decided to tell [Name] that today was my birthday, a horrible decision. Now, they’ve run all over Sumeru looking for me, until they finally found me in the House of Daena. Panting and gasping for air, all I could hear was them sincerely apologizing over and over for not knowing my birthday. They promised they’d get me a late birthday gift, even though I kept repeating that it was unnecessary. Unfortunately, it has always been hard to get things through their thick skull. All I know for sure is that Lesser Lord Kusanali definitely planned this and that she will tease me to no end the next time I see her… 

Still, they dragged me through Sumeru City. According to them, they knew I wouldn’t like anything too fancy, so they brought me to an alleyway. Your typical textbook dark and narrow one. And at the end were… cats. Many of them. [Name] turned to me with a smile and said they bet I didn’t know about this secret kitty haven, and that it was a perfect gift for someone like me. I do wonder if Sumeru’s sun has made them crazy sometimes.

But, this birthday wasn’t as boring as I thought it’d be. So… that’s nice, I guess. Actually, Lesser Lord Kusanali had assigned me a paper to write. A paper on [Name], on my own birthday. She said that she wasn’t going to read or check it, but it was for my sake. How preposterous, right? How would anything like that help me?

But tonight… I feel as though I’ll make some progress on it.

Attached Photograph:

A picture is included with the letter that has Wanderer and you in it. The puppet is at the top of the ladder in the House of Daena, searching for books (most likely forced to by the Dendro Archon), but your figure can be made out at the bottom. You seem to be waving and beckoning him to come down, so he can have a good time with you for his birthday. Wanderer doesn’t seem very excited about it, but… he will always indulge you, the person he can’t deny he loves. Hmm? Why is he using a ladder instead of his Anemo powers? Well, perhaps the puppet doesn’t like drawing attention to himself.

Attached Items:

Essay Concerning Inazuman Society and Politics [An essay Wanderer has written during his time spent in Vahumana. What, did the Traveler really think he’d send the essay he wrote about [Name]? However, Paimon couldn’t make it through the title page, and even the Traveler struggled through it. But, it seems to be your favorite essay of his, considering all the notes you made in it, not to mention the noodles you drew when you got bored… Wanderer probably scolded you for that but, it’s never in bad faith.]

Tricolor Dango [A plate of dango that [Name] brought for Wanderer as a treat. It seems that they are unaware of his dislike of sweet food… But the puppet did not want to hurt their feelings considering the thought and effort they put into his birthday, so he did not decline it.]

—

“A Lavish Tea Party.”

Sender: Sandrone

Unbeknownst to me, [Name] recently had a variety of sweets from Fontaine imported. It seemed like they tinkered with my bots once again, to get them on their side so I would remain in the dark… they can be such a hassle to deal with sometimes. However, this means that their skills are ever improving, as I’ve been improving my Automatons to be much more complex. As expected of my assistant. Speaking of, they’ve also imported some other things that I’ve been wanting for a while. Hopefully, they’re up to standard this time, or they’ll have to be returned. Ugh, I hate dealing with the Ninth whenever that happens…

Though back to the subject, it seems that [Name] has once again needlessly gone out of their way, since today is my date of birth. Although I don’t like being distracted from my research, and I see no need to waste time just because I happened to be born today, this break that [Name] has prepared for me isn’t too bad. I have not attended a proper tea party in far too long. The fools I have for agents can never set it up correctly.

[Name] is not someone who dresses up very often, but they always make the effort to match their attire with mine. Something that other people should learn from, but alas. Though, I wish they did it more often. Not even the most well-crafted doll could match their beauty. Have I told them that? No, they should be smart enough to figure that out by themselves.

Regardless, I must cut this letter short. After this, I want to work on an Automaton with [Name]. I have held off on it because they have expressed interest in it, and since we are together now, it is the perfect time to work on it. I was expecting them to get huffy at me working today, but it seems that they are pleased to work with me. I wonder why.

Attached Photograph:

A picture is included with the letter that has Sandrone and you in it. A wide array of treats and sweets are plated on numerous platters, along with ceramic tea cups waiting to be filled with piping hot tea. The surrounding robots are also fashioned in a similar style as her, perfect attire for the tea party, holding additional trays of desserts. (Can these robots eat too?) You’re pouring your wife her favorite kind of tea as you’ve already set her plate, while she sits patiently with her hands folded. Despite Sandrone’s doll-like features, one can see a small smile on her face.

Attached Items:

Instructions For A Perfect Tea Party [Sandrone’s set of instructions as to how a perfect tea party is conducted. Some of the rules seem nonsensical and impossible to many, which is why no Fatui agent can ever live up to the Harbinger’s expectations, as she will not accept anything less than what she desires. However, you are the only person who has managed to fulfill all the rules to a tee, which is one of the reasons she greatly favors you. Sending this list to the Traveler and Paimon is also her way of saying they are never invited as they will never be able to fulfill the rules in a way that satisfies her… how rude!]

Clockwork Toy of Sandrone [A Harbinger toy from Leschots Clockwork Workshop in Fontaine. They seem to have dabbled in making toys of the Harbingers as they said they would, and who better to start with than the machinery genius herself? Of course, Sandrone can point out numerous flaws with the design and components, and probably criticized it heavily to you, but you still seem to love it, because it’s of her! Unfortunately, your wife doesn’t like that very much… why settle for something inferior when you could have it in much higher quality? So the Harbinger decided to make a toy of herself that lives up to her standard. The Traveler can have the faulty one…]

—

“Another Year Passes…”

Sender: La Signora

In the past, I used to be quite fond of birthdays. In Mondstadt, I would always celebrate it with him every year. But after he died, birthdays left a bitter taste in my mouth, and I never dared think about doing anything on this day ever again. How could I, when he was no longer by my side? But today is my birthday again, and I find myself happy. Why? Because of [Name], the person who taught me how to love again. Admittedly, I pushed away the idea at first. But after some more reflection, I decided it wouldn’t be fair to [Name]. The past is the past, and the present is the present. If [Name] wants to make me feel special on my birthday, then who am I to stop them?

And indeed they did pamper me. They always pamper me but, today it was much more than normal. Breakfast in bed, massages, hair brushing, helping me put on my clothes, opening doors for me, fancy dinner and wine after work. I don’t think there was a single moment where they weren’t trying to do something for me. It gave me a good chuckle, which made them embarrassed. But truly, it made me happy. I had… forgotten what it feels like to be cared for on my birthday. It’s a foreign feeling but, I hope that the foreignness eventually goes away after some time.

However, I must tell them that there’s no need to overexert themselves just because it is my birthday. Although I do enjoy the extra treatment, it does neither of us any good for them to fall asleep before the night is even over. But, that’s okay. There is always next year, yes?

Attached Photograph:

A picture is included with the letter that has Signora and you in it. You are fast asleep on the Fair Lady’s lap, a peaceful expression on your face. A similar one is on Signora’s, as there is no one else around, and she can let her guard down around you. There are a few of her flame moths scattered around the room as well, a few on the two of you. As her blonde hair spills onto your face and body, one can only guess what she is thinking.

Attached Items:

Tea Break Pancakes [Despite Signora’s history with her home nation, it’s said that she still enjoys the cuisine from there. So, you like to cook her food from there whenever you can. It might not be as good as a professional’s but it provides her a taste of home. A taste of your love, which is her favorite flavor.]

Rose [It’s no secret that roses are Signora’s favorite flower. Beautiful yet thorny, alluring yet dangerous. There are many kinds of roses with all sorts of meanings in this world, but you two have been seen exchanging only one kind - a red one. Whatever could it mean?]

—

“Birthdays…”

Sender: Pantalone

When I was a child, birthdays did not mean much to me. After all, how could one focus on their date of birth when it seemed like life was full of nothing but curses and suffering? It was only another day of working to survive. But when I met [Name], they changed that. With them, the day began to have… meaning. Purpose. It wasn’t anything grand, but they made it special, distracting me from another day of poverty. Even with their meager earnings, they never failed to gift me something, even if it was of little to no value, or not the best quality… I cherished it. No one else had ever thought of me so much. When I look back, every time my birthday came around again, my love for them only grew more.

Now that we are adults, my only wish is to repay their kindness and spoil them with as many gifts as they deserve. However, there are a few issues with this. There are times I find myself more disappointed with the world than usual because it has yet to create something that would be a suitable gift that would be on par with my love for my dear [Name]. However, whenever my spouse gifts me something, their thoughtfulness never ceases to amaze me. How is it that they always manage to gift me something wonderful and touching? When I questioned them about this, they raised an eyebrow and gave me a strange look. It seems that I will not learn their secret anytime soon. How unfortunate.

Not to mention, dearest [Name] gets upset when I spend “ludicrous amounts of money” (their words) on them, especially on my birthday, so they’ve “forbidden” me from doing so today. They are rather persistent on this, and their long lectures and expressions are rather amusing, so I’ll indulge them… for now. Do you think they realize I’ll just spend double the amount the next day? Regardless, birthdays are always well spent with [Name], and I plan to enjoy this one fully, just as I have in the past because they are the one who makes my birthday a day worth celebrating.

Attached Photograph:

A picture is included with the letter that has Pantalone and you in it. The two of you are taking a walk in Snezhnaya, browsing stores and the like. Even though it is Pantalone’s birthday, he seems insistent on trying to buy out a few stores for you once again… so in order to prevent him from doing that, you’ve hidden yourself in his coat, stopping him from walking properly. The Harbinger seems rather entertained by your antics and your head popping out of his coat… he should make you do this more often. It’s perfect for head pats.

Attached Items:

Pantalone’s Spare Change [As it is his birthday, Pantalone is feeling more generous than usual, so he is sending a bit of funds to the Traveler. There is no need for any repayment, take it as a symbol of the Fatui’s goodwill. (However, it would do good to proceed with caution… this is the Ninth, after all.) Opening it up, the duo expects to see an average amount of money, but instead are presented with a couple of million Mora… if this is what Pantalone is willing to send to the Traveler, how much does he spend on [Name]?! Paimon doesn’t want to imagine the number!]

[Name]’s Guide to Gift Giving [A piece written by you to detail how you always choose the best gift for Pantalone, unbeknownst to your husband. Opening it up, the Traveler is very curious as to how you manage to win over the Harbinger every time, a man who has everything he could possibly want at his fingertips. But instead, only one sentence is written on the paper - “I don’t know how I do it either.”]

—

“Appreciation.”

Sender: Arlecchino

Birthdays were not very much celebrated in the House of Hearth, especially when the former Knave was around. However, that changed when [Name] came along. Years ago, I still remember when they gifted Lynette her first tea cup set. Freminet, a collection of spare parts that he ended up using to make another clockwork toy. And probably the biggest hassle… gifting little Lyney a white rabbit. However, I do appreciate my lover’s efforts. The children always look forward to their birthdays much more now, some even going as far as to drop hints about their desired gift and give puppy eyes to [Name] when the time rolls around. I have to remind my children not to get greedy, and to be grateful for what they already have…

I also remember the first birthday they gifted me something as well. A part of me expected it, considering the way they behaved, but still, it was an… unfamiliar feeling, to be gifted something. And, it was also the day little Lyney and Lynette presented their first amateur magic show to me. Of course, they had much to improve on, but looking back it was a suitable birthday gift, considering how much I’ve seen the two grow now. Needless to say, I appreciate [Name] very much, for what they have given me and my children.

My birthday has come once more, and [Name] is celebrating it as they always feel the need to. Really, even if they did nothing, I would still appreciate it, considering all they’ve done. The sweets they gathered this time were exceptional, and we had a lovely chat, before taking a walk through Fontaine. They say that the flowers that grow in the wild are always the prettiest, especially the Rainbow Roses.

Ah, last of all, if you could do me a favor, that would be greatly appreciated. You have been in Fontaine for a while now, yes? It would be a great help to me if you could point me to some good operas. [Name] and I have watched many in Snezhnaya, however, we don’t often have the chance to watch any in Fontaine, with our work and all. Thank you. And please, do not bore me or waste my time.

Attached Photograph:

A picture is included with the letter that has Arlecchino and you in it. You two are sitting in a field in Fontaine somewhere, with Rainbow Roses to the side. One of them has been tucked into the Harbinger’s hair, while you seem to be focusing on creating… a flower crown? Despite the pinkness of the rose greatly contrasting with Arlecchino’s whole dark red, black, and white look, she seems to not mind your antics and waits patiently for you to complete your work of art. Of course, as a Fontainian, she knows very well what Rainbow Roses symbolize, and won’t turn down the physical manifestation of your feelings.

Attached Items:

List of Yummy Hidden Gems [A list of great places to buy sweets from in Fontaine, courtesy of [Name], passed on by Arlecchino. Sure, Hotel Debord and Café Lutece do have some excellent sweets, but there are many hidden restaurants and bakeries that provide delicious treats as well! Do stop by and give them a try. Arlecchino favors many of their products. If one needs a similar list for the other nations, do tell.]

Slice of Birthday Cake [An exquisite slice of cake cut from Arlecchino’s birthday cake. She doesn’t care much for the tradition, but [Name] always buys one anyway as an excuse to treat the children from the House to something nice. You know you shouldn’t spoil them so much, but you can’t help it!]

—

“Splash!”

Sender: Tartaglia

Hey comrade! How have you been? Sorry if my handwriting isn’t the best. I sparred with [Name] for my birthday, and they really roughed me up. Not that I mind, I asked them to go all out. Normally they don’t like fighting with me, because they always insist they don’t like hurting me, but they couldn’t say no to me today. You know, I would like to see the two of you fight. It would be an exhilarating experience.

But anyway, after they patched me up, we took a dive in Fontaine’s waters! You know, whenever I visit Liyue, we often go to cool off in Yaoguang Shoal, but Fontaine’s oceans are so much different. The scenery, the terrain, the greenery, the wildlife… good thing I bought them a waterproof Kamera. Speaking of wildlife, [Name] and I befriended a blubberbeast. [Name] instantly fell in love with the creature, and I feel as though they gave a bit too much attention to it, but, seeing them smile is the best gift I could ever ask for. Maybe I should gift them a plushie of it? However, it is a bit amusing that something that looks as defenseless as that could pack such a punch!

Did you know this, Traveler? Apparently, Romaritime Flowers represent loyalty. [Name] gifted me a bouquet which I was initially confused about since I usually give them flowers instead. But after some quick research, these flowers mean unbreaking oaths. It was a bit ironic really, for I should have gifted them instead as I always swore to be loyal to them, my family, and the Tsaritsa, but it was a wonderful gift. Not to mention the delicious meal they prepared. They’ve been busy researching the best Fontaine recipes for me, so I could make them for Teucer and the others back home, but maybe I should just drag them to Snezhnaya so they could do it instead… I never leave anything but empty plates whenever [Name] cooks for me, but they’ve packaged some for you too, Traveler!

Next time we fight at the Golden House, I’ll bring [Name] along too. Do you think you can hold your own against both of us at the same time?

Attached Photograph:

A picture is included with the letter that has Childe and you in it. You two are under the sea, with a Blubberbeast between the two of you. The creature is nudging you while Childe looks on amused. It seems that it’s been begging for some more attention, food, and head pats. Maybe some tummy rubs too. Apparently, you named it Big Cutie, because well… it’s a big cutie! Unfortunately, it seems to have a little bit of a grudge against the Harbinger because he accidentally attacked it.

Attached Items:

[Name]’s Special Macarons [Rainbow Macarons but with a special twist from [Name]. On the top and bottom of the sweet treat are… faces? Very detailed ones too, with colored hair and eyes! Ah, the faces are none other than [Name], Childe, Teucer, and all of his other siblings! Oh, and macarons of Traveler and Paimon were made as well, how kind! Childe says they’re quite delicious, and he is a great cook, so they must be.]

Freshly Caught Fish [Fish caught by Childe. It seems that the two lovers also went fishing after diving a bit, as one knows how much Childe loves to fish. Sadly, your fishing skills still pale in comparison compared to his and you barely caught anything… That’s alright though! No matter how long it takes, he’ll always happily help you hone your skills!]

[dragons-and-handcuffs]

Cregan Stark x Targ!wife

A/N: not at all satisfied with this. Might delete it later

You never thought the North would become your home. You never imagined you would be lucky enough to marry a man who loves you with all his heart. And you certainly never believed you would love your position as the Lady of Winterfell. 

You were raised in King's Landing and Dragonstone, always surrounded by servants who would not let you even lift a finger. Whatever you needed or wanted were always brought to you. But in the North things are different. As the Lady of Winterfell you have a lot of responsibilities and truth to be told you are good at it. Running the Stark household and taking care of the people. It gives you a purpose and takes your mind off the war that's been going on. Although sometimes you just want to saddle your dragon and join Queen Rhaenyra’s army and fight, but both your mother and your husband have advised you to stay in the North. You are safe there, and if the enemy decides to attack North then your dragon would be needed to protect your new home. And to keep you updated in every matter regarding the war, Cregan even allowed you to join his council.

But other than that you are unbelievably happy in your marriage and content in you home.

However, there is another particular matter that has been bothering you. It's been eight months since your wedding to Cregan Stark, but so far you are not with child. Your main duty as his wife and the lady of Winterfell is to provide him with an heir and so far you have failed, at least that's what you feel. According to the maester it is due to stress, because there is certainly no lack of trying. The maester has even prescribed you some herbs to help but it's been a couple of months and you are not sure if they are working.

Whenever someone brings up that Cregan needs an heir, he immediately shuts it down. He would not let anyone blame you for something you have no control over.

After a busy morning you were just standing on the balcony of your room, hoping the cold air would make you feel better from the nauseousness you have been feeling for hours. You didn't tell anyone but you did throw up once. Maybe you are getting sick, maybe the food you ate last night didn't agree with you.

You were about to go and lie down, hoping that a little bit of rest will help and there will be no need to summon the maester. But before that your maid came in, informing you that your dragon had laid eggs last night and is not letting the dragon keeper get near her or her eggs.

You are aware that dragon eggs are precious and need to be carefully taken care of. You immediately saddled your horse and rode out of the castle ground, your guard accompanying you.

Your dragon has made the nearest big enough cave her new home. As soon as you reached the place you noticed the dragon keeper was standing outside. It was clear that he was afraid of going into the cave. "Stay here," You ordered your guard and made your way inside the cave.

The dragon was resting but once she heard someone was coming she raised her head in alert and got defensive, but immediately calmed down when she realized it was you. "My sweet girl," You patted her as you pressed your forehead against her head. She gently nudged you towards where her eggs were, secure under her wings. The eggs are black with a dark blue tint, matching the scales of your dragon.

"I will take good care of them," You spoke to the dragon in high valyrian as you gently took an egg in your hand. You ordered the dragon keeper to come and take the rest. This time your dragon didn't protest, she just rested her head down. "Bring the eggs to the castle," You ordered the keeper. These eggs are precious and needed to be properly kept and guarded.

Once you got back you were tired and not feeling well at all. You immediately summoned the maester.

Cregan Stark came back after some important business and immediately went to see you. He was worried when he saw you lying on the bed and the maester talking to you. When you saw your husband you sat up, a small smile of happiness welcoming him. "The princess is with child, my lord," The maester informed Cregan and took his leave.

Cregan was overjoyed and couldn't stop showering you with kisses. "You smell like dragon," *kisses you again*

The next nine months Cregan became extra protective of you, especially since the maester told him you might be carrying twins. Whenever he is with you his hands would be either around you or on your pregnant belly. He would carry you if necessary. Helping you get or down the bed.

The first time the babies kicked you two were just laying in bed at night. It was a very sweet intimate moment.

As you got close to the due date you personally went and chose two dragon eggs for your babies, keeping them in your room.

The labour was painful but your husband was there by your side despite everyone advising him to wait outside. At the end the pain was worth it when you gave birth to your twin sons. Both mini versions of Cregan Stark.

Your dragon was flying above when Cregan proudly announced the birth of the twins.

Since you couldn't get out of bed, it was Cregan who placed the dragon eggs in the cradles. He almost dropped it since they were so hot. Looked at you with confusion and surprise because he has seen you hold those eggs straight out of fire, thought he could do it as well.

Imagine you in bed with the twins in your lap, Cregan right next to you. Kissing you, and then kissing the kids' forehead. He is just over the moon and you have never looked more beautiful in his eyes.

[hannieehaee]

hii!! i hope ure having a great day

i just wanted to request loser!scoups hehe I RLLY LOVED CHANS VERSION AND WAS HOPING TO SEE MORE 🫶🏻 anyways take your time to answer when ure free, thanku!

18+ / mdi

content: loser!seungcheol, afab reader, smut, dry humping, penetrative sex, etc.

wc: 2686

part 1, part 2, part 3

a/n: hii thank u for requesting <33 i never considered loser!cheol before but ngl i loved writing it hehe i hope u enjoy <3

masterlist

despite popular belief, seungcheol was actually a bit of a loser.

okay, maybe his appearance didn't necessarily fit the bill (with his slicked back hair and bulging muscles), but everything else about choi seungcheol truly screamed loser.

even with a large group of fratboy friends, seungcheol was still the loser of the friend group, being the only one who had opted out of joining the frat and who spent every day and night studying rather than ever attending any of his friends' parties.

this was all by choice, he swears! seungcheol was just far too serious about his education to let anything become a distraction. and it had always been like this, even dating back all the way to middle school (jeonghan could vouch for this, having known him basically since diapers). due to this, seungcheol had always been kind of a black sheep in any and every social situation he ever found himself in. as a result, seungcheol ended up becoming shy, awkward, utterly embarrassing in social situations, and as jeonghan liked to put it, a 'virgin loser.'

even if seungcheol wanted to disagree with his friend, he knew he was right. here he was, twenty-one years of age and still a lonely virgin who had never even felt the touch of a woman's hand in his. he'd had opportunities before, set ups orchestrated by his friends, but he always managed to fuck them up. due to jeonghan's outgoing disposition, the girls he usually set him up with were set for a surprise upon meeting a his friend seungcheol, who could not even hold eye contact for more then twelve seconds (he counted).

except this year that would all change.

now in his senior year of college, seungcheol had an epiphany.

on the very first week of senior year, upon being assigned a new dorm-mate due to his previous one transfering, seungcheol finally saw a mirror of himself.

his new roommate was, for lack of a better term, a fucking loser (the term being courtesy of jeonghan once again). seungcheol had barely met the guy, yet he could not stand one more moment of conversation with him. not only was he a know-it-all who could only ever talk about academics, but he was maybe even more of a loser virgin than seungcheol was (at least that's what seungcheol was able to assess from the three separate occasions in which he walked in on his roommate watching porn in the common area of the dorm). his hygiene was terrible and his wide-rimmed glasses made him look like the typical nerd in every high school movie. everything about him was what seungcheol feared to one day become.

this one week of torture had been enough for seungcheol to finally take jeonghan up on his offer to join his frat and subsequently move into the frat house. granted, jeonghan had to break a few rules to allow a new pledge with zero obstacles in the way, but jeonghan was just charming enough to get away with it.

seungcheol had already spent the past 10+ years with perfect grades and pristine extra curriculars, so he figured that even if he completely flunked these last two semesters, he would still be a shoe-in for the masters program he'd been eyeing since arriving to university.

so now seungcheol was immersed in the frat lifestyle, though he still felt a bit out of place, which unfortunately for cheol, was something his good friend jeonghan noticed immediately. but this would only be a problem for a short while.

unbeknownst to seungcheol, jeonghan had orchestrated a plan for seungcheol's first frat party. it all started with giving seungcheol a bit of a new look. jeonghan insisted on throwing out most of cheol's 'nerdy clothes' (admittedly, he did dress like an old man at times), traded in his thick-rimmed glasses for some better fitting specs and lastly, gave cheol a trim to better frame his face. after all these changes, cheol felt more confident but still did not feel ready to attend one of the frat's well-known parties.

the decision was, however, taken for him, as he found himself in attendance to one just a few days later. also unknown to cheol was that jeonghan had been playing cupid once more, scouting to see which one of his closer girl-friends would be a good fit for his friend. and of course, his attention immediately fell on you.

jeonghan had only known you since the last semester of his junior year, in which the two of you had partnered up for a project that took up the entire fifteen weeks of instruction. the two of you hit it off pretty easily, but you hadn't quite caught his attention in a non-platonic way.

but you had caught someone else's.

although it had only been a fleeting moment, jeonghan caught onto every single look and action that had occurred the day in which seungcheol had accidentally interrupted a study session between the two of you.

he had easily noticed the blush in cheol's cheeks upon seeing you for the first time, along with the way he shyly checked you out when you weren't paying attention. what had surprised him the most, though, had been the way you checked out his friend as he went to leave the room. that had been enough for jeonghan to decide to play matchmaker between the two of you if the opportunity ever arose. and that was now.

getting the two of you alone was not difficult, but jeonghan knew better. he knew that sending the two of you into an empty room, completely blind to whatever he was planning was just a bad idea. so jeonghan decided that for the first time in his life, he would not scheme. he would simply set up the scene and leave the rest to you.

when jeonghan first came up to you a few days back and let you know about his friend's crush on you, you had been pleasantly surprised. what had shocked you the most, though, had been the revelation that jeonghan's cute friend was actually an inexperienced virgin. jeonghan told you to please not bring it up to cheol, but that he felt it was best you knew so you didnt feel caught off guard should you ever try to hit him up (which he knew you would). what jeonghan didnt realize was that this fact excited you more than you'd like to admit.

planting that seed was more than enough to get you looking for cheol in the empty room jeonghan had said he'd be in (okay, maybe he did scheme a little), prepared to deflower the pretty nerd you'd been thinking about every time you started to notice him sitting alone in the library every other day.

you had dressed to the nines, donning a red slip dress that gave you breathing room but still accentuated every part of your body you wished to stand out. ready and confident, you quietly opened the door to what you assumed to be jeonghan's room, knowing you'd find his pretty friend inside.

sitting alone on the bed, seemingly trying to psych himself up as he whispered affirmations to himself, the boy jumped back upon your unexpected intrusion, with his hears instantly turning red at realizing who you were.

you were jeonghan's pretty friend. the one seungcheol had had some unbecoming thoughts about immediately after seeing you in jeonghan's room last semester (and subsequently seeing you around campus as his eyes would unknowingly always search for you). and you looked .... fuck. and you were alone in han's room with him .... and you had closed the door right behind you .... and now you had walked all the way over to where he was sitting at the edge of the bed, not shocked at all to see him there ....

"hi," you smiled at him.

"h– hey."

"are you okay? how come you're here all alone?", you sat next to him on the bed, damning all boundaries, apparently.

"oh, i ... just a little nervous, i guess."

"yeah? of what?", despite the unexpectedness of the situation, you seemed genuinely interested, so seungcheol responded.

"it's, uh, my first party as a member of the frat."

"oh, really? i had no idea you were a member of the frat. that's pretty cool, seungcheol."

"you know my name?"

you scoot closer, smile still on your face, "yeah, of course i know your name. do you now mine?"

"oh, i, uh, yeah ..."

"okay, so we know each other. do you maybe want a friend to go out there with? maybe that would ease your nerves," your hand had somehow made its way to his thigh, now invading his personal space a bit. except he couldnt find it in himself to complain.

"t– that's fine, i, uh, i have han and– "

"but arent i better company?"

"y– you're ..."

"can i be honest with you, seungcheol?", you didnt wait for a response, "hannie told me that maybe you needed some help. that i could maybe help you out?"

"help? what type of help do you mean?"

you leaned in even closer, "do you want me to show you?"

"i ..."

"all you have to say is 'yes', cheollie ...", you breathed out now close enough for him to feel your breath on his lips.

he nodded and made an embarrassing noise of affirmation, completely giving up on speaking.

it was embarrassing how easily he let you turn him into a puddle, not even bothering to question how or why jeonghan orchestrated this situation. but that didnt matter as he finally felt the lips of a woman against his own – your lips; the lips of the girl he'd been crushing on from afar, jealous that maybe you'd become more than jeonghan's classmate. this was a clear declaration that his assertions had been incorrect.

seungcheol wasn't sure what to do with his hands (or with his tongue) as he kissed you. he felt you smile against his lips at his whimper, making feel that maybe you were making fun of him. when you pulled away, he feared that maybe he'd been right.

"cheollie, let me show you, yeah? just let me– yeah, like that", you positioned him in a way that would allow you to straddle him as you said this, wrapping his arms around your waist, "okay now let me show you how to kiss me, okay? just open your mouth a bit for me and let me teach you. then you can try it on me."

with that, you leaned into his open mouth, sticking your tongue inside as you played with his own, sucking on it and causing his eyes to roll back, another embarrassing moan leaving his lips.

"do you wanna try it now?", you asked as you pulled away.

he feared his voice would betray him, so he just nodded before leaning in.

seungcheol mimicked your previous actions, though his were a bit sloppier and more desperate. he whined at the way you sighed and pulled at his hair due to the way in which he suckled at your tongue and squeezed his fingers on your hips.

eventually you began to also kiss him back, making it a battle between your tongues all the while seungcheol tried to keep up.

suddenly your hips began to move against his own, making him groan in pleasure. after that, you leaned over him, causing the two of you to lay on the bed as you practically rode him through your clothes.

cheol couldnt help his cries of pleasure at feeling you press against his now swollen member. he didnt want the feeling to end, so he grabbed onto your hips and helped you in your movements, even grinding his own hips upwards to match you.

"cheollie ... do you want more? hmm? wanna feel what its like?", you purred against his ear while pulling off your dress, leaving you in a tiny bralette and thin panties.

"yes! fuck, please. i'll take whatever you wanna give me, just ..."

"shhh, it's okay. i'll give it to you, pretty. you dont have to beg. want you just as bad," you kissed him again before he could reply.

without him noticing, you had thrown off your bra, something which made him completely blank when you pulled away and began talking to him. none of your words made it through his head. he was far too busy looking at the pretty nude girl in front of him. he salivated at every inch of naked skin, wanting nothing more than to lick and kiss at every curve. out of all parts of your body, his eyes were glued to your tits. the fleeting thought of suffocating in them flew through his head, making him shudder.

"cheol?", you grabbed onto his chin and pointed his gaze towards your own, finally breaking him out of his trance.

you giggled at his confused face, causing him to sheepishly apologize for dozing off.

"it's okay, pretty. i'd be distracted too if i could get all these clothes off you ... that's what i was asking actually, can i?" your hands began to teasingly pull at his top, mangling it a bit so it could expose some skin.

his nod was all you needed to rip off his shirt and pull off his pants with urgency that had seungcheol blushing. after getting him fully naked, you threw off your panties and finally sat against him completely bare. the heat of your skin against his was enough to have him burying his face against your neck and begging you once more to please give it to him.

"shhh. i'll give it to you, pretty. i– i'll give you everything," and with that, you sank down on him, throwing your head back at the intrusion.

meanwhile seungcheol was completely gone. the warmth of your body against his had been one thing, but feeling your heat wrap around him was what truly did him in.

it's not like he had stayed a virgin by choice. he had tried to hit it off with many of the girls jeonghan set him up with, but none of them showed any care for him. they'd all expected him to step up and fuck them. even when he would try to shyly explain that he had never done anything sexual before, he'd just be met with scoffs or laughter. but you had walked him through it. you had complimented him and made him feel comfortable. you had made him see pleasure for the first time in his life.

although these thoughts swam through his head as you fucked yourself on his cock, seungcheol's mind was otherwise completely empty. all he could think about was how good you felt and how pretty you sounded as you threw your head back and pulled at his hair. you were just the embodiment of pleasure.

all cares and worries were gone from his brain until the moment in which he felt all his pleasure reach a peak.

he didn't want to be a fucking loser and cum so soon, but you just felt so fucking good, he couldnt help himself. he cried a warning out to you, to which you encouraged him to let go and told him you'd follow him soon.

his orgasm was something he never couldve imagined. but your own orgasm soon trampled that experience. your tightness as you let yourself go while still wrapped around him had him delirious with pleasure. without meaning to, his nails dug into the skin of your pretty hips as he lost consciousness for a few seconds.

unable to fully process it, he felt a sweet peck against his lips before feeling you cuddle against him. he didnt have to think twice before wrapping his arms around you and pulling you closer.

"remind me to thank that idiot", he spoke up after some moments.

"who, hannie?", you giggled against his chest.

"yeah. he was onto something when he made me get ready in his room."

"oh? he sent me in here looking for you."

"that fucker", he chuckled, "owe him one."

[zooone]

NEW FRIEND REQUEST FROM: SATORU GOJO ?!

in which ?! - your annoying neighbor messes up your study plans. and it just so happens that the rich boy next to you in class is also annoying. when you fail a test one day, he's there to help.

words ?! - 4.5k

warnings and content ?! - fluff, swearing, a couple of tiny innuendos if you squint, satoru is a BITCH!, you have a bit of a mental breakdown, 2010 au, satoru calls reader "sweets", no curses au

an ?! - WE ARE SOOOO BACK!!!! its been a year since ive written, and this one was definitely quite the warm up but im so excited to be back ^w^ thanks to @melancholiaincarnate for beta reading!!!

masterlist ?!

she bounced her leg. she looked around. she took a whiff of her candle. she flipped a page.

anything, anything to void the terribly loud sounds of the tv next door.

what an absolutely prime time to be watching tv at max volume, at 11 pm the day before a crucial test. it was terrible. and worse of all, it sounded like digimon. who the fuck watches digimon in college?

it sounded like he had people over too, and though she could only hear a couple voices, they were loud as hell.

turning back to her work, she put her palms against her temples. none of it made sense. none of it. everything always made sense to her. and this pissed her off.

"oh come on!" she could hear through the walls, a man with a whiny voice. watching digimon. rather than her notes, all she could think of was how immature her neighbor was.

she took her textbook, slamming it against the thin walls so hard she thought there'd be a hole. then she'd really have to hear them.

the other side grew quiet, all except for a "whoooooopsie daisy" from the same whiny voice.

was he 13?

meanwhile, the three lounged on the couch. popcorn was spilled all over the floor (due to satoru's inability to sit still), but they all knew that satoru would have to be the one to ultimately clean it. it was his place, after all.

"maybe you should turn the tv down," suguru sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"no way! this is the best part of the episode!" satoru whined, gesturing a hand to the thick tv.

"you say that about every scene. just turn it down before your neighbor sends a noise complaint."

"psh. no way dude. she'd never." he snorts, laying back on the couch. manspreading. like two other people aren't next to him.

shoko chimes in, "what, do you know her or something?"

"nah, no clue what she looks like. but i hear those informational tv shows coming from her dorm every once in a while." he shakes his head like its funny. "anyone who watches those kinds of things won't have the balls to tattle."

"what, as opposed to tough guys like you who watch digimon in college?" suguru scoffs. his legs are actually together like a gentleman. wether or not that was due to the lack of space.

"exactly." and satoru yawns with a frown. he's gotten in trouble with his neighbors so many times that he didn't care anymore. he probably should've been kicked out, but instead they moved him around. which is why he was here now. tv blasting digimon right next to his studying classmate.

the same classmate who'll come to school looking like a tornado flew by, dropping her books down on the desk with a hefty sigh like they weighed as much as her.

"sheesh. you look like a mess." satoru chimes, gazing her figure up and down slowly behind his tinted glasses. however, she could sense his bright eyes without even having to look. "rough night, huh? what's the guy's name?"

"shut up," she scowls, knocking his arm out from behind her chair. he lets out a small pout.

"ouch. that hurt." he shakes his hand, pretending to soothe the pain of his imaginary bruise. "i was just asking a genuine question."

"i wasn't with anyone, satoru, i was studying." she sighs, picking at the skin on her lips. a bad habit she's had since she was little.

"lame." he whined, stretching the 'a' out.

"we have a test today!"

"oh, do we? shucks."

of course satoru gojo didn't have to study. of course satoru gojo spent his night with a woman (probably). of course satoru gojo yawned when the test was being passed out. because he didn't need to study. he was one of the many, many people who was able to get into the college because of status and money. the direct counterpart of her.

she got in through scholarships and grades after having come from a lesser background. she worked hard to be there, unlike satoru and the rest of the school. everyone around her had a stench of expensive cologne. thank goodness for uniforms, otherwise her lower status would be immediately revealed.

not like it wasn't obvious already. everyone was already in their own separate group, leaving her in the dust. which is why she allowed satoru gojo to bother her in class. without him, the only time she would talk was to answer questions.

she was so lost in thought she didn't realize she was staring at him.

"what, d'ya need the answers or something?" satoru giggled in a whisper. the smirk on his face was absolutely unbelievable.

she knitted her eyebrows, turning herself towards her paper. "n-no, just thinking."

"all that studying just for you to think. what a shame."

even through his fucking whisper she could hear the cockiness in his voice. it was so natural for him to just think of things to piss her off. if there wasn't a test, she would be imagining all the ways she would kill satoru gojo.

he was so smug. too smug. and even after the test is over, he would still be,

outright smug.

he stretched his legs out over the desk, shoe almost touching her pencil. his shoe alone probably costed more than she makes in a year. "that was pretty easy, huh?"

no, no it wasn't.

"yeah, for sure." she lied through her teeth. no. she wanted to take her pencil and gouge her eyes out. she wanted to rip all her hair off and eat it. satoru better have been lying.

"i don't get why you studied so much. that was easy as hell." he pouted, twirling his pencil in his hands like it was a graceful ribbon. "besides, why were you studying that late?"

"because i actually care about my grades!" she argued, scowling at him through narrow eyes. she wanted nothing more than to pass that test and slap the stupid grin off his face.

"i know that," he whined. "i meant why were you studying late?"

"i-i don't follow."

satoru laughed, muttering something under his breath about how clueless she was before shaking his head. "i mean, you're a good girl. you don't go out, you have a list and schedule for everything, you make sure you get tons of sleep. so what was wrong with last night?"

what?

was he being nice? and how did he catch all that?

she faltered from responding for a little bit, waiting for the usual punchline to hit. but it never did. he just sat there, genuinely asking.

"u-uh, my neighbor." she spoke slowly, as if anticipating his snarky reply. nothing. "for some reason he thinks its funny to watch digimon on full blast at night."

satoru's eyes widened before he let out a guilty chuckle. she didn't understand what was so humorous to him, but he could make a joke out of anything.

"oh," he giggled. "what an idiot, heh."

"yeah." she looked at him skeptically. no punchline yet. but he looked like he knew something she didn't. surely (hopefully) it wasn't the answers to that test.

later that night, she would go to her dorm, bringing out her keys labeled "365". she pushed the door open and dove face first into her couch. curling up against one of her throw pillows, she lazily grabbed the remote.

looks like it'll be another informational tv show tonight. just something to fill the room and make things seem less lonely. sometimes she envied her loud, annoying neighbor because at least he had friends to be loud with. and she was simply just lonely.

the sounds of the tv show bounced off the walls of her empty dorm. there was a bit of furniture, but definitely not the stuff that she'd dreamed about ever since she was little. this was her dream college, something that motivated her ever since she had the realization she could pick any college throughout the whole world. but,

picking and dreaming was easy. earning the right to go there was not.

one of the terms of her scholarships was to keep up her good grades. and although that was a habit of hers throughout the years, the burnout was reaching her. slowly but surely,

until it all crashed down.

she hadn't even noticed she was crying until she realized the dark tear stains on the throw pillow. the tv show still played, something about some sort of rare animal in its habitat, but she paid no mind. it was just noise to drown out her tears.

she would end up falling asleep on the couch. waking up the next morning, late due to her phone's alarm being buried and muffled in her bag.

and for the second time in a row, she would come to class looking like a mess. an utter mess.

"woah girl," satoru spoke, putting his hands up in a sort of surrender as she slammed her belongings down. "you okay?

she wasn't prepared for this. for the tests to be handed back, for satoru's annoying fucking voice, none of it.

"im fine, satoru!" it accidentally came out worse than intended.

"bad sleep again?" he asked, with genuine worry and confusion in his tone. he wasn't even watching tv that night.

"its none of your business." she set her head down, tears already beginning to swell in her eyes. no. not here, not now, please.

instead of a reply, satoru put his hand on her back. he didn't force it, he did it slow enough to the point that she could shake his hand off if she wanted to. but she didn't. she stayed still.

he took that as permission to pat her back, and his touch surprisingly gentle. in any other circumstance she would be flipping out, screaming right at his face to leave her alone (despite wanting the opposite), but that didn't happen. she welcomed his touch,

his strangely familiar, natural touch.

as if on cue, the papers were passed back. and satoru's face scrunched up when he saw multiple red marks bleed through to the other side of her paper.

"hey, maybe you should-" but it was too late. she lifted her head, turning the paper over and,

she failed.

she failed.

and suddenly the dam holding her raging emotions had fully, fully cracked. all she could do was cry.

the red marks immediately bled throughout the paper as her tears weakened into the test. she crumpled it in her hands, feeling her nails pierce through the paper and into her palms- crescent shaped marks going through both of them.

and the worst part? she looked up. she looked up at satoru's flawless paper and saw he passed.

he passed.

she failed.

he swallowed his saliva, feeling his mouth go dry. a juxtaposition to her drenched paper. "hey, i - you-"

"i know-" she sniffled, "excuse me."

and even through shameful tears, she still showed manners. she stood up and left the classroom. she didn't know where she was going at all. she just wanted to leave.

leave the building, leave the school.

but her legs betrayed her, buckling underneath her as her lungs tried to catch up to her. it felt like her insides were scratching out her throat. and as if on perfect arrival, satoru tried to catch her.

key word; tried.

the sheer force of her fall made him tumble back as well, and she ended up on top of him. and on complete instinct, she curled up in his arms.

"oh, sweets - 's okay -"

"its not - its not -" she repeated, through heaving breaths.

but he wrapped his arms around her as tight as he could, rocking back and forth on the gross school floor as if a mother rocking a child. he pressed her ear right against his heart, where she heard a soft drumbeat. something to fill the space.

"its all okay, sweets. its all okay." he whispered, careful not to startle her. "y'hear me?"

"y-yeah-"

"no, d'you hear my heartbeat? listen." and she did, absentmindedly copying his deep breaths. her lips tingled with how dry her mouth was, but she was now able to think.

she was tired. she was just so immensely tired. she nearly fell asleep in his arms with his heartbeat.

"thats it, sweets, thats it." he looked down, sweeping hair from her heavy eyes. he wiped a tear from her cheek.

"i-i messed up your uniform -" was all she could say, being in the arms of the last person she expected. even through tears, all she could think of was the expensive uniform.

"thats okay. i have plenty more."

of course. of course, satoru gojo could just buy a new uniform. of course satoru gojo just had to be smart and rich. he didn't have to study at all. and he still did better-

"whatcha thinking about?" he snapped her from her thoughts. and looking up at his hypnotizing blue eyes, she couldn't feel any more rage in her system. she was tired.

"nothing." she wiped another tear, sadly laughing at how pathetic she felt.

"how about we take a little walk?" he smiled, his canines showing.

on the other hand, she frowned. "what about th-the lesson?"

"oh, nonsense, sweets." he laughed with such confidence. but his voice lacked a mocking tone to it. "y'already know all of it. i'm sure. you're a smart girl."

and before she could sit and ponder that, he stood up. he lifted her up with such ease, adding a little "upsie daisy" to his action. in fact, he did it with such force that she crashed into his chest.

"easy, girl," he giggled softly, looking at her with such tenderness (despite lifting her like a feather). she glared up at him. "there she is. c'mon, lets go."

their "little walk" would turn into a walk around the entire city. she barely had both the time and energy to have a big long walk, but satoru made it possible.

"oh jeez, walk fast, walk fast," he giggled, a hand on her back as he speed-walked past multiple stores.

"what, do you get nervous around kfc or something?" she found it hard to walk at his rate, her legs still a little wobbly and her eyes still puffy. but she smiled.

"what? nah.. why would i be.." he pouted. at this time, she would be sitting on her couch with an informational tv show playing. but now, she was sleepily smiling alongside satoru gojo. who knew.

"i don't know, maybe you're scared of colonel sanders." she snickered. the thought of it was funny.

"y-yeah. totally."

they had passed multiple stores, the lights in them illuminating the night. she had refrained from window shopping too much, as she knew she wouldn't be able to afford any of it. but one of them was just irresistible.

"look at that dress," she whispered. and even though it was to herself, satoru saw the stars in her eyes as she gazed at it through the window. by the time she could look back at him, he was already in the store, smiling and gesturing at her to follow.

and she did, reluctantly.

"this one?" he picked up the dress from the hanger, taking a look at the fabric and pattern to it. "it is pretty. you have good taste, sweets."

her face went oddly warm at that one.

"and its perfect in time for fall," he continued analyzing the dress, putting it up to her body trying to imagine how she'd look. "go try it on."

"w-what? but -" she tried to grab the dress to look at the price tag. "how much -"

"c'mon, less talking and more changing!" he put his hand on her back again, leading her towards the changing rooms. a smile rested on his face like it was his default. "hey, could'ya do me a favor, sweets?"

"yeah, whats up?" she looked at the dress in her hands. and he slowly, slowly leaned down towards her, his breath close to her neck. it sent dangerous shivers down her spine.

"don't look at the price tag, alright? thats my only rule, heh."

she did as told, entering the changing room and avoiding the price hesitantly. part of her instincts wanted to check, but she refrained.

god, had she really cried that hard? her eyes were still red and puffy and her lips were still slightly plump. she didn't know how she managed to make it throughout the whole city without being judged by everyone. maybe she could blame it on allergies if someone asked.

yet, she turned around and looked into the mirror with the dress on.

the dress' color complimented her features perfectly, making it look like she was glowing as if she hadn't previously cried her eyes out. it was the perfect shape for her figure, but most importantly, it brought a smile to her face. a smile that hadn't shown itself since the college acceptance letter came in the mail.

she burst through the changing room, instantly getting satoru's (who was mindlessly scrolling on facebook) attention.

"oh my-" and the words were stolen from his lips, making satoru gojo speechless for the first time ever. she marked it down in her head as a famous moment in history. "you - you look -"

"its so pretty, satoru!" she smiled, spinning around to see the ruffles of the dress flow with her movements. "and look! its got pockets!"

"its perfect, sweets." he looked at her with lidded eyes, a goofy smile on his face. not the sort of smile that would make her want to slap him, but the kind of smile that made her warm. "but did you follow my rule?"

"yes, i did not look at all." she couldn't keep the smile off her face. fluttering her hands in the pockets of the dress.

"perfect." he grinned. and when she went to go put her uniform back on, her smile faded. she knew she had to put it back on the shelf.

she exited the fitting room, a longing frown on her face. yet, satoru still beamed. "alright, you ready? lets go pay up."

"what?" and he was already towards the cash registers. "but - i don't have-"

"relax, sweets, i got it." he pulled out his card, waving it in the air like it was the key to the pearly gates.

"no - satoru - you don't have to -"

"i said, i got it." he playfully, yet dramatically, rolled his eyes. he was already walking up to one of the registers, somehow with the dress in his hands. did he take it sometime when she wasn't looking?

"thank you, sir." he nodded to the cashier, bag in hand. it happened so fast, too fast for her to comprehend.

and her face was red with shame as they walked out.

"you didn't have to do all that!" she elbowed him. he even insisted on carrying the bag as well.

"oh my, i walk you around the city and buy you something and that's my thanks?" he whined, his bottom lip peaking out to taunt her.

"i didn't ask you to!-"

"im joking," he straightened up again, laughing a the look on her face. "its all on me, i promise. you owe me nothing."

"thats - thats not fair to you, though!" she yelled, a frown on her reddened face. again, it was just allergies.

“so?” he shrugged. it was fair to him. he spent a little bit (a lot) and he got to see the smile on her face. that was fine by him. “i don’t care.”

she didn’t have a response for him. she just continued walking, only a hazy silence separating them. it wasn’t like the silence in her dorm- it was warm and welcoming. perhaps it was the fogginess in her head as sleepiness was slowly overcoming her. but no matter what it was, she felt safe with him.

all she muttered was, “thank you, satoru.” under her breath. and he chuckled.

her breaths were starting to get more shallow, as her strides shortened. “you feel tired?”

she was so tired. she’s been tired,

but she didn’t want this to end just yet.

“could we - uh,” she mentally cringed at herself. what was she doing? “can we go to your place?”

“huh?” he smiled, and it didn’t look like a single thought was behind his eyes. she didn’t want to have to repeat herself. “i mean- sure, if you’re okay with it.”

she didn’t want to do anything, and he knew that. but with the way he slung his arm across her shoulder, she felt a sudden buzzing throughout her joints. she rested her head on his chest as her legs essentially dragged behind her.

“our - my buildings close by. it won’t be long, sweets.” he giggled, and all she could do was nod her heavy head.

the next thing she knew, he was carrying her bridal style in the elevator. the bumps of the elevator car felt oddly familiar, but she was too tired to process all of it. he carried her so tenderly, humming softly as the doors opened. the low vibrations in his chest were a gentle lullaby.

after struggling and stumbling a little, he brought out his keys labeled “367” and he chuckled softly. opening the door, he let out a soft breath. popcorn kernels still cluttered the floor, some smooshed, but he still smiled at the amount of decorations around.

he laid her down gently on the couch, pausing briefly when she stirred, and sat down next to her. he grabbed his remote, manspreading yet again as he scrolled through channels. his free hand idly played with her hair, a gentleness to his touch.

“should i turn on some sorta informational tv show for you?” he whispered, looking over at her like she would respond. and of course, when she didn’t, he just chuckled. “i think i’ll play some digimon. i think you’d like this episode.”

she burst from her bedsheets with such force, her vision nearly went black. the scent around her was familiar as she stared ahead (once her vision was back to normal). how did she end up in her dorm? she could’ve sworn she was..

where was she last night?

as she looked around herself, everything was normal. not a single bit of her desk was out of place, and all her papers were safely tucked away in her bag. she put her head in her hands, wiping her eyes of her sleepiness. thank goodness it was a saturday.

a small ding came from her blocky phone. she swept her feet onto the floor, groaning a little bit when she made contact with the rug. her head hurt. she vaguely remembered bits and pieces of the show she was watching last night. something about monsters maybe?

idly, she picked up her phone. it was already past noon.

NEW NOTIFICATION

facebook? she barely used facebook.

NEW FRIEND REQUEST FROM: SATORU GOJO

she opened up his profile.

Satoru Gojo

is excited about: Digimon.

oh.

now she remembered everything. and that would make sense why she woke up in her own bed.

she scrambled out of her bedroom, hastily putting on her slippers and leaving her dorm with such urgency, her breath was left behind.

“hey! open up!” she banged her fists on door 367. although the time was not obscene, someone looked at her suspiciously across the hallway. “u-um - package for gojo?”

what was she doing? clearly she didn’t look like a delivery woman. all she cared about was getting an answer.

she heard shuffling from behind the door, and as the handle turned, satoru gojo showed himself in nothing more than a tank top and gray sweatpants. the tank top showed off his shoulders and his oddly defined collarbones. it stuck to his tummy, showing the outline of his flexed abs. she was in such haste that when she stopped to stare, a buzzing played in her head.

“oh,” satoru smiled, leaning against the doorframe as he crossed his arms. he just looked so smug. “quite the package you are, sweets. heh.”

“satoru?!” she whisper-yelled once she finally got a grip on her staring problem. “you- you’re my -”

“did you get my friend request?” he frowned, though it was more of a pout. his hand ruffled through his snowy white hair.

“satoru gojo is excited about digimon?!” she recalled from his profile, her mind a haze. she could remember his silly profile picture.

“‘cause i am.” he whined, like it was some sort of obvious statement. his carelessness about this made her brows knit.

then, a softer voice showed itself. “satoru, who’s that?”

a man with his hair tied up (apart from hair in the front) came up behind him. and suddenly, her face went even more red than before, realizing she embarrassed herself by freaking out in front of his company.

“o-oh, you - sorry, sorry, i-”

“you wanna join us? i’m making some popcorn,” satoru giggled, still not answering his friend’s question. “we aren’t watching any informational thing, but i think you’d still like it.”

“is - is this your neighbor?” the black hair man spoke again.

“yup.”

“the one who you -”

“yup.”

she stood there, her pulse in her cheeks, unable to speak. however, he gestured to invite her in. she couldn’t tell if his offer was a joke, but she walked in regardless. as she introduced herself to his company, learning that the man’s name was suguru, and she also noticed a girl with short hair on the couch by the name of shoko.

satoru grabbed the popcorn, a small grin on his face as he walked to sit on the couch. he patted the space next to him. “c’mon, sweets. sit next to me.” he snorted, “i dunno if there’ll be enough room for you, but suguru can stand.”

“there would probably be more room if you stopped manspreading.” suguru scoffed.

nonetheless, she sat down next to satoru, letting him sling his arm around her shoulder again. like last night. “how’d you sleep? did’ya finally get a good night?”

“yeah,” she spoke. when she relaxed her eyebrows, she felt a soothingness to her forehead. she could smell his cologne, being forced to smush up against him when suguru forced himself on the couch. “it - it was good.”

“that’s good, sweets.” he chuckled, shoving a bit of popcorn in his mouth with a grin. his hand rested idly on her thigh, his touch familiar to her. “you looked real tired.”

and she felt it was mandatory to look at him, a sort of desperation in her eyes. “hey, satoru i wanted to - um - thank you-”

“huh? for what?” he shrugged, resting his head on his free hand.

“for, y’know, all you did for me.” she was quiet, and she could feel suguru and shoko’s eyes on them. “i still don’t appreciate how loud your tv is, but - i just- thank you. really.”

“its no problem.” he laughed, taking the hand on her thigh and placing it around her shoulders again. “and i promise i’ll turn it down from now on.”

“thank god.” she snickered. meanwhile, suguru and shoko looked at each other skeptically.

“by the way, i put the dress on your counter,” satoru added, pushing his tinted glasses up. “you should wear it the next time we go out, sweets.”

“next time?” she asked, putting one eyebrow up.

“yeah, next time. i think i’m free tomorrow, actually.”

8.1.24 - WE ARE SO BACK!!!

masterlist ?!

[bluesidez]

Gym Rat Miguel Part 11 | chapter on AO3 for easier scrolling

content warning: fluff, some hurt/comfort?? angst??? bittersweet moments???, recreational use of zaza, some nerd talk, 18+ so MDNI, p in v sex (first time 😗)

word count: 10.1k, halfway proofread (don't ask me NOTHING...)

shout out to @hyjionie and @hwasoup for one of the ideas here! 😗 you guys will know it when you see it!

Prev | Next ✩°｡ ⋆⸜ 🎧✮ Masterlist

GymRat!Miguel whose mom was driving him crazy. The flight for New York was at 7 am and somehow she was up running around the house at 2 am.

“Miguel! Get up, we have to go. Now!”

“Ma, no one is even driving on the road right at this hour. There's no traffic."

"Which is why you need to get up and move. You know Gabriel takes forever. Get up!"

GymRat!Miguel who groggily put on his clothes. It was the hoodie you got for him for Christmas with the doodle of the two of you on the front. If he was going to be stuck in the airport for hours, he might as well be comfortable.

GymRat!Miguel who looked made sure that his laptop was loaded with things to do.

He could catch up on shows he knew you watched so that you could have someone to rant to about them. He could listen to that one podcast you mentioned just because you mentioned it. He could read that one manga you were raving about because he was not going to compete with fictional men, and maybe, he could steal ideas from it.

GymRat!Miguel who went to wake up Gabriel before their mom's voice pierced both of their ears again.

He opened the door to see Gabriel staring bug-eyed at his wall while he ate a bowl of cereal.

“Did you go to sleep?” Miguel asked, closing the door and walking closer.

“No,” Gabriel said. “Couldn’t sleep.”

Miguel ran his hand over his hair, curly strands bouncing back, “Promise me you’ll try to sleep on the plane?”

Gabriel took his bowl to his mouth, slurping up the last drops, “Only if the voices let me.”

“Right,” Miguel says then takes his bowl from him. “Maybe you can have a conversation with them right now.”

“And maybe I will!”

GymRat!Miguel who stares at the bags his dad has stuffed into the trunk with awe. 

“Pa, you know we’ll only be there for three days, right?”

George presses against the trunk with a little more force than needed, “You never know what could happen, mijo.”

GymRat!Miguel whose bones shake with exhaustion as he stares out the window on the way to the airport. Maybe it’s due to the lack of sun, but he’s never felt a cold summer night. 

GymRat!Miguel who sighs as his dad argues with the staff over a suitcase that Miguel knew would be too heavy. He’s not even sure what his dad has in there.

GymRat!Miguel who thinks that TSA is having a field day despite his family being one of the few coming in at this hour. 

The man in front of him was taking way too long to pat him down and he got the hint was Miguel scowled at him.

GymRat!Miguel who had about four hours to kill before the plane came, so he decided to walk around the airport with Gabriel and pretend like they were a spoiled set of twins shopping casually in France.

“What do you think about this, Mimi? A little chic, no?” Gabriel held up a Gucci scarf to his green hoodie. 

Miguel stuck his nose up, “No, Bribri, it’s so yesterday.”

“Ugh,” Gabriel put the scarf back like it was on fire, “You’re so right. Thank god you’re here or I’d be so lost!”

GymRat!Miguel who feels like he’s back at home with Gabriel as they try their best to avoid the luxury brand store staff. Every time one would get close, they would giggle and rush out of the store. 

GymRat!Miguel and Gabriel who crash back at their terminal with enough food to feed a family of five. 

“What is all of this?” Conchata asks as Miguel hands her a coffee, a frustrated look on her face.

“Ma, it’s almost the crack of dawn and we’re hungry. Big boys gotta eat,” Gabriel said like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

George reached in one of the bags and grabbed a sausage sandwich, “He’s right, Conchata. We can’t survive on two bites.”

Conchata eyed her three boys with her arms crossed, “All of it better be finished and I don’t want to hear one complaint about your stomachs.”

Miguel just snickered. It’s not like she bought the food anyway.

GymRat!Miguel who is watching an older couple meditate at his terminal as the sun begins to rise. 

“Yo,” Gabriel says. “That looks relaxing as hell. I’ma join them.”

GymRat!Miguel who is wheezing as he watches Gabriel plant himself between them to spread his arms and breathe at deep paces.

GymRat!Miguel who is thankful that his parents bought better-than-Economy seats, but that still didn’t stop any of the O’Hara boys from feeling like they were in one of those miniature museums. 

Both his dad and Gabriel were already tall, but Miguel was more than tall with a heavier body to match. If another compartment almost smacks him in the face, he might lose it.

GymRat!Miguel who takes off his headphones when Gabriel grips his arm.

“The voices,” Gabriel whispers. “The voices are here.”

“Are we doing this the whole flight?”

“Miguel, what if they tell me to do something drastic?”

Miguel looked to the window next to Gabriel and then up to the ceiling, “Three hours.”

“Three hours in which my brain could be infiltrated!”

“I’m closing my eyes, Gabri.”

“But-”

“Closing!”

GymRat!Miguel who used the flight to catch up on sleep and listen to the playlist you made for him. You gifted it to him earlier this month and said it would grow more and more. Miguel loved it because it showed that you were thinking about him, daydreaming about him. It also meant that he could connect to you more. 

No sound of crying babies, no smell of the artificial air packed tight, no light from overhead, just you and him in his mind, dancing on clouds. 

His heart felt like it followed the tempo of each song that played, the words and melodies taking over his mind. 

GymRat!Miguel whose mind wanders by the time the second half of the playlist starts. It was sensual and intimate in a way that passed the sticky sweetness of the first half. 

He was thinking about the nights when it was just the two of you and a bed. He could feel your body tangled with his in the sheets and your eyes piercing his skin. He could see you in front of him as the music played, the words glowing on your skin and the harmonies bounding you to him.

GymRat!Miguel who is yanked out of his fantasy of him pressing you up against a wall when his body jerks from the turbulence. 

He opens his eyes to see Gabriel knocked out and not a clue in the world.

GymRat!Miguel who is always reminded how idiotic people can be at the airport. 

Standing in the aisles is not going to make the people in the front move any faster.

GymRat!Miguel who could finally stretch his legs once he exits the terminal.

“If I get on another plane where a kids stares back at me the entire flight again, I’m going to spin my head like an owl,” Gabriel mumbles as he cracks his neck.

GymRat!Miguel who has a time laughing at his dad slowly losing his mind. 

First, he complained because his fabric luggage was lopsided and twisted from its buckled components, extra bag barely hanging on. 

Second, a wheel on his luggage was a few more spins from giving out. Every time the bag would skirt across the shining floors of the airport, George would grunt in frustration and yank it back. Gabriel almost pissed himself leaning onto Miguel from laughing. 

Third, the ride to the hotel almost gave him a heart attack. The cabs in New York were fast and no-nonsense when it came to getting people to their destinations. The cab drivers were also known to bob and weave into lanes like it was nothing. At every switch of a lane, George was mumbling prayers into the air. 

Conchata kept a hand on his shoulder as best as she could from the middle back seat, but George’s grip on the handle was turning white as he tried his best not to yell into the driver’s ear. Gabriel was filming him from the left side, wheezing like it was the funniest thing in the world. 

GymRat!Miguel who dropped his stuff off, took a nap, and used the rest of the afternoon to walk around Times Square. 

“You refused to go to a Broadway show with me but mark my words, you’re going to one with me before the year is over,” Gabriel pointed his finger at Miguel. 

“Unfortunately.”

GymRat!Miguel who watches as Gabriel dance battles with the random people in costumes in Times Square when they try to heckle him. 

At first, Miguel was worried for him trying to navigate such a bustling place, but there are moments like this that show him that his little brother has always been quick on his feet. His little brother was light years ahead of him in so many aspects and he couldn’t be prouder. 

GymRat!Miguel who probably filled his phone with more pictures and videos of Gabriel experiencing New York for the first time than were necessary. 

He couldn’t help it. His baby brother was soaring.

GymRat!Miguel who sends you places that he wants to visit with you. 

Envisioning you in his hoodie or with a fluffy, long scarf and walking down the sidewalk hand-in-hand with you had him excited to see you again. You would shine so brightly under the Christmas lights.

GymRat!Miguel who didn’t get back to the hotel with Gabriel until the evening. His parents both snoring in the room across the hall. 

GymRat!Miguel who still manages to get up early enough to hit the hotel gym before he and his family go tackle Gabriel’s dorm room. 

GymRat!Miguel who feels like the only other lady in the gym is trying her best to follow everything that he does. 

So much room in the tiny cube of a gym that they’re in and she moves to wherever he is after five minutes. 

GymRat!Miguel who is annoyed when she taps him in the middle of his set. He removes one ear of his headphones and tries his best to stop the disgusted look on his face from forming. 

“Hey! Sorry, I was wondering if I could use this machine! I’m kind of in a hurry.”

“After I finish this set,” she jerks back at that. “I’m using it right now.”

“Well, I just thought that-”

“Ma’am.”

“I’m 22! Don’t call me ma’am.”

Miguel’s eyebrows went up. He could hear Gabriel in the center of his mind calling her a “hard 22,” so he just put his headphones back on and continued to work through his set. 

GymRat!Miguel who thinks that interaction ruined the girl’s mood but he really didn’t have the energy to be concerned. 

He had to freshen up for breakfast. 

GymRat!Miguel who feels absolutely cramped when he steps into Gabriel’s dorm. 

“It’s not bad!” Conchata rubs Gabriel’s back as he looks around with his mouth in the shape of a line. “Once we clean it and set up your things, it’ll be just like home.”

Gabriel puts his hands on his hips, “Home doesn’t look like cell block 1.”

“At least the window overlooks the city,” Miguel says. 

The door behind them opens with George poking head inside. 

“Mijo, we need to set some ground rules. Your suitemates have no idea how to organize.”

“Did you go in their rooms?” Gabriel asked in disbelief. 

“It’s not my fault they left the door open!” George puts his hands up. 

GymRat!Miguel who works harder than he did for his own dorm. Every piece of clothing was in its rightful place, every surface was sparkling clean, the bed was made with minimal pillows and a giant RJ churro plushie, and there was an odd-shaped humidifier plugged up on his desk. 

“I’m putting your cleaning supplies in the corner of your closet, so this room should stay clean,” Miguel grumbled as he stuck a mini vacuum against the wall.

“Whatever, mom,” Gabriel replied.

“Gabriel,” Conchata had a hand on her hip and a finger pointed at her son. “Don’t whatever him. He’s right. There’s no excuse for this room to be a mess.”

Miguel and Gabriel stood in shock at Conchata’s quick defense.

“Are we in the twilight zone?” Gabriel asks out the side of his mouth.

“Maybe it’s the air pressure,” Miguel whispers back.

GymRat!Miguel who equates Conchata’s growing softness to the fact that not one, but two of her boys will be leaving the nest. 

The sentiment is sweet, but by the fourth time she just lets him and Gabriel roam the busy streets, he’s internally freaking out. 

It was far different from the woman who pinched their ears when they tried to sneak sweets into the shopping carts or the woman who had her shoe locked and loaded for when one of them did anything to annoy her. 

GymRat!Miguel who stays up late to talk all night with Gabriel about anything and everything.

“Which one of these do you think is better?”

Gabriel reaced into his backpack to unfold two flags, one with Jungkook over the Mexican flag and a Weenie Hut Jr. sign.

“Well, I definitely feel like there’s a clear answer.”

“You’re so right,” Gabriel says and folds up the Spongebob sign. “It’s better to represent.”

Miguel only sighed, “If that’s what you insist, Gabri.”

GymRat!Miguel who hugs Gabriel tight as their parents pack the cab back to the airport.

They’ve dropped Gabriel back at his school and said their goodbyes all morning. Miguel feels like he’s fading away. He bites his lips in order not to cry, but it’s hard when Gabriel's hands grip his hoodie like a lifeline. 

“Knock em’ dead, baby bro.”

Gabriel leans back with a wet laugh, “They won’t see me coming.”

GymRat!Miguel who waves out the window as the cab drives off. Gabriel waves back with both hands and a smile on his face. 

Miguel keeps looking back and Gabriel is still standing there. He wants to tell the cab to turn around.

After the fourth look, Gabriel is no longer looking at the direction the cab went but to a girl who also seems to have said goodbye to her family. He’s talking animatedly, arms moving as fast as the words fly out of his mouth. 

Miguel turns back around and pulls the strings on his hoodie hard, eyes welling up with tears. 

“Ay, pobrecito,” Conchata pulls Miguel into her arms, kissing the top of his covered head. “I know, it’s ok.”

Miguel’s lungs take in chopped breaths, hands never moving from the strings. He doesn’t know how to stop the tears from falling. 

“George, you too?”

To Conchata’s other side, George was looking out of the window, sniffling with a fist covering his mouth. 

“It feels like just yesterday I was teaching him how to kick a ball!”

Miguel blew out some air, “That probably was yesterday. He sucks at soccer. And football. And kickball.”

“How did he ever make the basketball team?” George says, voice riddled with sorrow. 

“His height, pa,” Miguel’s throat was tight again. “I didn’t call him beanstalk for nothing.”

The two of them lean onto Conchata, snot and tears crowding their faces. 

“Lose one baby and I gain two more,” Conchata sighed as she rubbed their backs, barely space in the little cab. 

GymRat!Miguel whose eyes remained puffy and swollen the whole trip back home. 

GymRat!Miguel who had to go back to school as soon as possible. 

He loved his parents, but being in the house without Gabriel took a lot more patience than he was willing to give. 

GymRat!Miguel who doesn’t see you coming while he's looking for you around the Student Center. 

The campus feels a little different since he’s become more familiar with it. Now he’s got shortcuts and pathways down. He knows more places to hide away in and he carries more tips to survive than he did his freshman year. 

A tap on his shoulder has him turning around. He spins, looks down, and his mood immediately lifts. 

You’re standing there with a pretty smile on your face in the midst of the bustling crowd. Miguel bends down to pick you up, arms wrapping around your thighs, mindful of your skirt. You laugh his name out as you cling to his shoulders. 

He kisses your lips, mouth warm and cozy like the sun shining through the window in a cool room. 

“I missed you so much,” he breathes after two heavy pecks. He moved to the corner of your mouth to your nose to your cheek. “‘M happy to see you.”

“I’m happy to see you, too,” you run a hand through his hair and cradle his face, looking into his eyes. “Are you alright?”

Miguel puts you down, knowing your limit for periodic PDA was nearing its end. 

“Better with you here.”

“Really?” You lean into his chin on his chest with hearts in your eyes. 

“Absolutely,” he plants his arms around you. “Been replaying your playlist for me. You want me to be your good boy?”

Your eyes get wider and you bury your face in his chest. 

“Why are you hiding? You should have known I was going to ask about it,” Miguel chuckles as you groan. 

“You’re using it against me.”

“No, I just want to confirm!”

The irritated face you gave him was too much, he had to tease you more. 

“Just say the word.”

“Hmph,” you lean back as Miguel grins. “Well, be a good boy and help me find our friends.”

Miguel let you pull him, smile loopy, “Whatever you say, baby.”

GymRat!Miguel who is glad to see his friends again. Peter, MJ, Jess, and Ben are sitting at one of the high tables and they all greet you both with smiles. 

“The lovebirds are here!” Peter reached to shake Miguel by the shoulders. “Good to see you both alive.”

“Never better,” Miguel replied, holding the seat out for you to sit on. 

“Look at him,” Jess snickered. “His eyes are practically shaped like hearts.”

“It’s ok to look away from her Miguel,” Ben said. “She’s not going to disappear.”

“C’mon guys, leave them alone. Haven’t you ever had someone you’re head over heels about?” MJ asks.

“No,” Ben and Jess say in a monotone voice.

“I’m sure you’ll find someone someday,” Peter quips as he wraps his arm around MJ. “Someone to stare at like they’re the only ones at the table.”

Everyone looked at Miguel talking to you as you tapped on your phone. He would whisper something in your ear and you would push him back with a shy laugh. His hands rubbed on your shoulders and your thighs. 

“Movie night might be insufferable,” Ben sighed.

Jess leaned back, “A girlfriend or boyfriend would suffice. I’m not picky!”

“I am,” Ben says with raised eyebrows. “I need someone to acknowledge my beauty.”

GymRat!Miguel who does in fact become insufferable during movie night. 

Flashing bright colors are painting the white dorm walls, lighting up the room, and the two of you are cuddled together on his bed. It’s way too cramped and Miguel could barely fit on the thing by himself, but somehow, he has you laid in his arms, a blanket covering you both. 

He’s not even sure what movie is playing on the projector because his mind is too focused on you. His hands keep wandering your body under the thick blue fluff. He’s watching you body jump and listening to your breath hitch as he kneads your thighs, your sides, your stomach, your chest. 

He really did miss you and he wanted to take this time to become acquainted with your body again.

But you would kill him if he let his thoughts take over and sink his hands under your clothes. 

So he settled with touching you and kissing your neck occasionally, your mind to preoccupied with the movie before you. 

GymRat!Miguel who insists on a snack run and makes you tag along. 

Does he want snacks? Not really.

Does he use it as an opportunity to make out with you on the outside of his car? Absolutely.

“Mig, mm-” you melt into him as he pries your mouth open. “I thought you said you wanted milkshakes.”

Miguel cages you against the car, pans down to your chest, then back up to your eyes, “My milkshake is right here, though.”

You scoff, hit his chest, and push his arms to walk around to the passenger seat.

GymRat!Miguel who has milkshakes ready for everyone on their way out to their own dorms. He spent way too long playing with you in the privacy of his car.

GymRat!Miguel who by his second day of classes thinks he has the ideal fall semester schedule planned.

He’s still blocking things out on his calendar, but his classes are a bit more spread out this time, which means more time to be with you. 

With your stacked studio classes, he was going to take every opportunity he could to see you. 

GymRat!Miguel who wanted to take up a basic game programming class as an elective. What better way to nerd out than to get insight on how his favorite games worked?

Learning C++ and Python, breaking down the technical side of things, making his own small games through engines; Miguel was beyond excited, to say the least.

He walked into the empty lab, scoping the classroom out for the best seat. The perks of being early. 

GymRat!Miguel who is scrolling through his watch later list while he waits for class to start. Maybe he could finally watch the Let’s Plays he’s been piling up. Maybe character builds would be better. 

“Hare-Hare, is that you?”

Miguel stopped, that nickname something he hadn’t heard in forever. 

He turned to his right with a smile on his face, “Xina?”

“It is you!” 

Miguel stood to hug her, his body rocking from the weight of her, almost knocking him over. 

“It’s been so long,” she breathes out. Her hands slide down his arms. “Have you gotten even bigger?”

Miguel laughed, “Probably.”

Xina’s eyes flitted over his body and back to his face. 

Miguel sat back down, “You look different, too. Is that a tattoo?”

“Y-yeah! You like it?”

It was some computer code in a spiral shape on her arm. It was really different for her. A far cry from the conservative, shy girl who left the South. 

In fact, the outfit she had on was something she would never wear. It looked like something that Lyla or Tempest would throw on. No collared dresses or long socks over stockings, just low-cut skirts and flowy-sleeved tops. 

“It’s pretty cool. Do your parents know you have it?” 

She shuffled the sleeves of her shirt back down, “They weren’t too fond of it, but what can they do now.”

Miguel smiled softly, “Lyla told me you were coming down here. I guess I just didn’t believe it until I saw you. How have you been?”

“I’ve been pretty good. Just trying to readjust. It’s a lot different here.”

Miguel raised his eyebrow, “From China or from up north?”

“Um, from up north. It’s a lot slower.”

“Really?” Miguel watched as she picked at the mountain of bracelets on her arm. “Hopefully not too much slower. I want you to enjoy your time here.”

More people started to fill up the lab, dropping their backpacks and pecking on their phones. 

Miguel rolled his chair closer to Xina, “What happened up there? Is everything ok?”

Her eyes shifted nervously, voice tight, “Lyla didn’t already tell you?”

“She can say a lot of things, but I’d rather hear it from you.”

Her shoulders dropped and whatever thoughts that were clouding her mind disappeared. 

“I’ll-” the professor heads to the front of the class. “I’ll tell you one day.”

Miguel nods, dropping the subject. 

GymRat!Miguel who is really excited about the future of the class after the first initial day. 

The professor seemed to have a lot of knowledge involving the industry, and even if Miguel couldn’t see himself really tapping into the industry, he enjoyed the banter. 

“Class seems like it’s going to be fun,” Xina says as she walks next to him, bag patting against her hip. 

“That’s a sentence I’ve heard no one ever say.” 

“Oh, shut up,” Xina pushes his shoulder and Miguel fakes being knocked over. “This is coming from the man who got excited about encyclopedias being available for checkout.”

“There was good stuff in there! Not my fault that others didn’t catch on.”

GymRat!Miguel who chats with Xina like old times. 

She looked different, but the core of her was still there. Still the sweet, reserved girl that he remembers. 

“Ah,” Xina looks down at her phone. “I gotta go. Me and my roommates are having a house meeting.”

“You got a quad suite?”

“An apartment! You should come over sometime. We’re going to have a little housewarming party soon.”

“Cool, I’ll be there. See you Thursday?”

Xina grinned wide, hands folding together in front of her, “See you Thursday.”

GymRat!Miguel whose time with you during the day was limited to lunch time. Your studios were stacked along with some general ed classes and he hated it. 

“Miguel, stop pouting, I’m here now!”

“That’s until you have to go mix your paints with others and cut floorboards.”

“I’m not mixing paint with others,” you reach to wipe some salad dressing off of his lip. “I’m mixing paints with other paints. And mineral spirits. And turpenoid.”

Miguel slumped down his chair, petulant. 

“Why can’t I just sit next to you and encourage you?” Call you pretty, stare at you, hold you. 

“Because it’s a college course just like any other class. I just can’t just walk into your labs unannounced.”

“If it were one of my lectures, you probably could.”

You left out a soft breath through your nose, “True. Too bad my classes are three hours long, babe.”

Miguel groaned, “I should have switched my bio class to yours.”

“So you and I both could be distracted all day? Not a chance.”

“No,” Miguel held out the vowel. “I wouldn’t get distracted, I swear! We’d sit at the front of the class to ensure it.”

“And somehow, you’d still find a way to distract yourself.”

Miguel puffed and folded his arms.

“How so?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” you shake your cup, seeing if you had any drink left. “Writing me messages on your notes app, spamming emojis, sending naughty pictures in the middle of class.”

“That was one time.”

“One time that my professor almost saw the hairs leading to your-”

“So what you're saying is, you don’t want my chest in your phone?”

“No! I never said that!” 

Miguel smirks and you fall back into your chair with your heart pounding. 

“You’re so mean, I’m going to class early.”

“Baby, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!”

Miguel held your hand to stop you from leaving the table, pulling you to his side. 

“Let go, I’m going to class.”

“Let me walk you there at least?”

Miguel wrapped his arms around you and moved his head wherever your gaze went. 

“Fine, hurry up.”

GymRat!Miguel who finished his lunch in two bites and reached for your portfolio. 

GymRat!Miguel whose heart swelled as you swung his hand on the walk to class. 

“I think we can still make more time for just us. There’s the weekends, your birthday, fall break, winter break, our anniversary,” you sang as you looked up at him. 

“You excited?”

“To spend time with you? Always.”

Miguel felt his cheeks warm at the simple statement. 

“Are you?”

“If I’m not excited to be with you, you’ll know I’m being kidnapped.”

“Stop,” you giggle. 

“It’s true!”

GymRat!Miguel who lingers in the art building while you wait for class to start. 

“Is there anything in particular that you wanted to do for our anniversary?”

You fan your eyes up, “Hm. I’m not picky. As long as it’s close to school. We can save the bigger trips for the future or holidays.”

So no sporadic trips across the country. He can check that off his list. 

“Your face is telling me that you were thinking of something else.”

“No…”

GymRat!Miguel who after two weeks of class could definitely say that his elective was taking more brain power than his science classes combined. 

It was fun, but god, he didn’t understand the point of his professor insisting that they learn C#. 

“This is so stupid,” Miguel grumbled after the third failed attempt to get his program to run. “I think I’m in hell.”

“With me here? No way,” Xina snickered beside him. 

“Yeah, you’re right. Still doesn’t change the fact that this is a program that is completely useless to not only me but the rest of this course.”

“It literally can’t be that bad”

“Look!”

Miguel showed Xina his code and the lack of progress that it seems like he made. 

“That’s ‘cause your lines are wrong, silly.”

She leaned over him, tapping at his computer. Miguel noticed that her tattoo was on display today despite the cool chills coming in as fall approached. 

“There. That should fix it.”

Miguel ran his program again and was filled with relief when it actually did what it was supposed to do. 

“You’re a lifesaver.” 

“Anytime,” she beamed and fanned absentmindedly. “I’m always here to help. I definitely need your guidance for quantum physics.”

“What do you need that class for?”

“My advisor suggested it, but I’m starting to regret it and I can’t afford to drop it.”

“Tell you what, you help me with coding and I’ll help you with physics. Fair trade?”

“Plenty equal to me.”

GymRat!Miguel who smells Xina’s perfume as she helps him for the third time that class. 

It’s sweet and earthy. It reminds him of the time you fed him ice cream on a campus bench not too long ago. 

“What is that? It smells good.”

“Really?” Xina looks over to Miguel with a smile. She leans back and twirls the black strands of her hair. “You like it?”

“Yeah, it’s nice.”

“Thank you.”

GymRat!Miguel who gets invited to Xina’s apartment-warming party. 

“It’s pretty small, and I’ve only made a few friends here so far, but I would love for you to come.”

“For sure, for sure. Should I bring something?”

“No, just you and your body will suffice.”

GymRat!Miguel who laughs with Xina as they exit the class. 

“I’m just saying that if you have time to make merch for your games immediately after the first patch of it does numbers, then you have enough time to improve it and make other parts faster.”

“Game developers have families to feed, ya know?” Xina states. “They can’t just sit at a screen all day, they need quick money like the rest of us.”

“So you sell plushies instead? Whatever happened to ‘hi, hello’ or ‘this is how progress is going this month.’”

“Miguel!”

He turned to where he heard his name, that voice like music to his ears. 

“Bebé!”

GymRat!Miguel who runs to you and spins you around like he hasn’t seen you in years. You squeal into his neck, excited because he’s so excited. 

He puts you down and stands in shock, checking his watch, “I thought you had studio right now?”

“Critique ended super early, so I wanted to surprise you!”

“So the rest of your day is free?”

“Pretty much, yeah.”

Miguel would punch the air with glee if he wasn’t in public. 

GymRat!Miguel who turns when you peek your head past him to see Xina standing with a small smile on her face. 

He slots his hand into yours and pulls you over. 

“Xina, meet my girlfriend. Bebé, meet Xina.”

You reach your right hand out, introducing yourself. Xina takes your hand with a grip like a blood pressure machine and a quick introduction. 

When you take your hand back, your eyes do a double take between the two, Miguel oblivious to what just took place. 

You clear your throat, “Do you guys take the same class?”

“Yep, we-”

“We go way, way back,” Xina grins. “Like trading silly bandz and Pokemon cards back.”

“Oh shit, really? So you saw Miguel in his baby days. What was he like?”

“Please don’t say anything embarrassing,” Miguel groans out. 

“Yeah, tell me something good. Something juicy.”

“Hm,” Xina tapped her chin. 

Miguel shook his head behind you, hands clasping together in a pleading motion. 

“Miguel had a crush on me.”

That’s not what he expected Xina to say and from the raised eyebrows on your face, neither did you.

“That’s,” you rock on your feet and adjust your backpack, “definitely something.”

“Yeah! He was so cute running around handing me flowers with the roots still attached. I was too busy trying to be the best ballerina around, though. Right, Hare-Hare?”

“Right,” Miguel looked to the door. “Uh, we’ll see you around Xina.”

“Yeah, see you soon,” her fingers twinkled, chains on her nails dangling. 

GymRat!Miguel who kept waiting for you to say something as you both walked to his car. 

He was excited to eat dinner with you for once, but your silence was scaring him. 

“What’s wrong?” He breaks, sick of his aimless thoughts. 

“I don’t know, Hare-Hare, you tell me.”

“Amor, don’t be upset. It was such a long time ago.”

“That’s fine, I don’t care about that. Why would she bring it up in the first place? I don’t even know her like that.”

“I think she was just nervous, she’s not usually like that.”

“Compared to…?”

“Compared to the kind person I know her to be. Look,” Miguel reached for your hand, voice steady. “I’m sure she’ll open up to you as I’m sure you will to her, ok?”

You blew out a deep breath, “Ok.”

“Trust me?”

“I trust you.”

“Good,” he pecked your lips. “Now let’s go get pizza. I’m starving.”

GymRat!Miguel who still brought a gift to the apartment warming. It felt rude to not show up with something. 

You had recommended a candle, so Miguel went and got something that smelled similar to Xina’s perfume plus a candle warmer in the shape of a flower. 

He knocked on the door, a gift bag in his hand.

After a few seconds, it swung open with a guy who he didn’t have to bend down to look at. 

“Woah,” he said. “You’re huge.”

“Uh, thanks? Is Xina here?”

The guy was brushed to the side to reveal a frazzled Xina. 

“H-hey, Miguel! You came!” Xina clung to him, fingers clammy and breath burning through his shirt. 

“Yeah, of course. Was this the wrong day?”

“No! No, no. You’re right, come on in.”

GymRat!Miguel who felt that the apartment was really nice and Xina’s roommates were a rambunctious bunch. 

Although, he expected the event to be a bit more relaxed. There were people crowded together in the living room, some screaming at a game on the TV, some making their mark on the couch, others dancing out on the balcony. 

Miguel was anxious to say the least. 

GymRat!Miguel who was pulled into Xina’s bedroom, the stench of that sticky, sweet perfume filling his nostrils. 

“Sorry about that, I didn’t know it would get this wild.”

“It’s fine,” Miguel shuffles the bag into her hands. “I just wanted to give you this, then I’ll be on my way.”

“Aw, so soon?”

“Yeah, I’ve got some stuff to catch up on.”

He wanted to get out of here. 

His eyes panned around her room, the style of it matching more to her past self. White lace, lilac and soft pink bows, tiny bunny and hamster families sitting on a shelf above her desk. 

A poster from a franchise that she swore she hated but he loved. Funny. 

Xina dug into the bag pulling out the candle warmer, “Miguel, this is so cu-ute! It’ll be perfect on my desk.”

“I thought you would like it.”

“You do know me very well,” she pulls out the candle and holds it to her nose for cartoonishly amount of time. “This smells fucking amazing. It’s like, like the inside of an ice cream bucket. But in a jar.”

“Xina,” Miguel sits the candle down before she moves the wicks up her nose. “Are you high?”

“Only a little…un poco,” she holds her fingers in a pinch. 

He pushed her hand away from his face. 

“They’re not making you take anything, right?” He pointed back to the door. 

“No, I wanted it to. It’s nice. You should try it sometime. Relax a little.”

Miguel watched Xina’s eyes for a moment, searching for anything, something about how she really felt. For the moment, they were only cloudy and unphased. Miguel supposes that he should be like that too. 

“Maybe another time. I think I’m gonna go.”

“If you must,” she pouted and hung on to his shoulder until they reached the door. 

GymRat!Miguel who finally breathed easier once he was in his car. 

He wondered what to get a person to help them come down from a high easier. 

GymRat!Miguel who didn’t care what Lyla had to say, the arcade was a great idea for the 1st Anniversary date. 

He had it all planned out: pick you up at your dorm door, drive you out, about an hour to the closest city, spend the rest of the night exploring the city, come back to the hotel, breakfast in bed, an afternoon at an art class because you wanted to see him paint, an evening at the arcade, and a night to complete out his Mission B: Virgin No More. 

It was perfect. Immaculate. Sublime. 

GymRat!Miguel who took the term passenger princess more seriously than he needed to. 

“You sure you don’t want me to drive?”

“Nope. Just sit there and look pretty.”

“I might fall asleep.”

“You’ll still be pretty either way.”

GymRat!Miguel who has the most fun going to random stores with you. Sure, there were some boutiques where the owners looked at you both like extra heads were sticking out of your necks, but there were also stores that were cozy and warm. 

You both stayed in the nooks and crannies of stores looking at trinkets, jewelry, books, anything. 

“Miguel, look!” you hold up the tiniest pair of baby shoes he’s ever seen. “How precious is that?”

“Put those down, I don’t need any new ideas.”

“You had old ones?”

GymRat!Miguel who buys a giant puzzle for you both to complete together. It’s a watercolor painting of the night sky and the bright day blending together. 

It was the two of you together in one piece, he had to get it. 

GymRat!Miguel who is giddy that you bought a set of matching silk pajamas for you both to wear. 

He knew you were definitely going to get hot in them, but what are hotels for if not turning up the A/C and cuddling together under the thick, starchy comforters? 

GymRat!Miguel who keeps staring at you through the mirror as you brush your teeth. There’s a fluffy headband keeping your hair out of your face, and you’re only wearing the top of your pajama set. 

He’s no better, only rocking the pants. 

“What?” you say with foamy toothpaste flooding your mouth. 

“Nothing. You’re cute.”

You spit out the toothpaste, “You’re cute!”

GymRat!Miguel who holds you close as you take a bunch of mirror selfies before you both head to sleep. 

GynRat!Miguel who knew this day was starting off right when you came out of the bathroom with your stomach showing. The shirt is like a blessing, mesmerizing in multiple areas, hugging your skin tight but loose enough for him to stick his hands under it. 

“Amor, I don’t know if you know this, but,” Miguel pulls you in between his legs. “We’re supposed to actually make it out of the hotel room today.”

“And we will,” your eyes sparkled. “So until we get back, be good.”

Miguel groaned and peppered searing kisses across your skin, hands hot on the pocket of skin he could see, squeezing and gripping. 

“Do I get a reward?”

You lean and whisper in his ear, breath tickling his skin, “A really, really hot one.”

Miguel's eyes are opened wider when you stand back, neck burning. 

“You’re killing me.”

GymRat!Miguel who really sucks at painting. 

“I don’t understand what I’m doing wrong.”

“Well, to start off, your brush isn’t even clean.”

You guide his hand to his water cup with a giggle, “None of your colors are going to show up if you keep dipping them willy-nilly.”

“Ok, but how come your hearts are so much better than mine? We both followed the teacher.”

Your eyes looked from your uniformed artwork, colors tangling together intricately and shapes flowy to Miguel’s canvas that had dripping paint, a bad mix of oversaturation, and wobbly shapes. 

“You know, I’m not completely sure how you managed that, babe. What matters is that you did it with love,” you say noticing both of your initials in one of the best hearts on the page. 

“Maybe you’ll be better at pottery? Mosaic?”

“I think you just enjoy laughing at my expense.”

GymRat!Miguel who rolled the sleeves of his sweater up when it was time to play arcade games. 

He had to look good, show off, and earn prizes. 

You watched with heavy eyes as he geared up to play the boxing game. 

He made the boyfriend outfit look even more yummy, with his button-down peeking from under his blue sweater to match your outfit and his big jeans hugging his waist. 

With a heavy swing, the machine seemed like it lifted off the ground with the force he gave it. His face was so serious as he waited for the score and you were inching closer to insanity. 

The machine faltered, red dashes dancing across the screen. 

“Did you break it?”

“Uh. I hope not.”

After what felt like a moment in which you both probably should have run away or called a worker, the machine blinks back to life. 

“No way.”

A max score of 999 stared back at you both and the card machine lit up with rainbow colors. 

You held his hand in yours, looking at his knuckles for any bruises or blemishes. When you stared up at Miguel incredulously, he had a goofy smile on his face. 

GymRat!Miguel who may have been more competitive than he needed to be. 

You yelled as his score kept inching away from yours on the basketball arcade game. 

“You’re, like, as tall as the machine! You’re cheating!”

“It has nothing to do with height, chiquita.”

You groan out a sound of frustration as you miss your shots, messing up your streak. 

The timer goes out, Miguel winning by a landslide. 

You push your head back as Miguel celebrates. 

GymRat!Miguel who keeps this song-and-dance up for the rest of the night. Sometimes you would win, sometimes he would win. 

His final strike was when you both were in one of those FPS games that required you both to be crammed inside of a dark box. 

“Miguel, stop taking my fucking shots!”

“Oo, she’s getting feisty with me now.”

You thought quickly and leaned over. With an eye on the screen and the intention to rile him up, you moan his name right in his ear, breath needy and warm. You lick at his jaw to seal the deal and turn back. 

Like paper, Miguel folds, and his aim becomes absolutely terrible. 

“W-why would you do that?”

You couldn’t bring yourself to feel that bad as “Player 1: Bunny WINS” and “Player 2: Bear LOSES” jumped across the screen. 

You kiss Miguel on his cheek as he readjusts his pants with a frown on his face. 

GymRat!Miguel who could hear his heartbeat in his ears on the elevator ride back up to the room. 

You were holding onto the giant plushie he gave blood, sweat, and tears to earn, saying that it reminded you of him. 

Miguel, on the other hand, was digging his nails into his palm and opening the collar of his sweater sporadically. 

“You alright?” you say, placing a hand on his elbow.

“I might pass out.”

“Miguel,” you hold him close as you both walk to the door. “You gotta calm down.”

“I am! I’m just nervous.”

“You’re shaking.”

Miguel’s hands tremored as he ran the key card over the censor.

GymRat!Miguel who let you hold his hands as you kissed over his wrists. 

He was so dear to you. His presence, like a beautiful spark.

“You’re so sweet.” A kiss to his palm. “The sweetest there is. I adore you.”

Miguel took a shuddered breath as he watched you, heart rushing to his ears.

GymRat!Miguel who is more calm when you both start to remove your clothes. It wasn’t steamy and desperate like he imagined. It was slow, intimate, and quiet. 

It was like seeing you all over again for the first time when he helped you take off your shirt. It was like stepping into new territory when you held his jeans so he could step out of them. You both took turns taking off an article of clothing, savoring the moment. 

Miguel fumbled a bit when he was met with you the clasps of your bra, fingers knocking against each other.

When the time comes, after what was an hour or so of touching, feeling, and existing within each other, your hands fumble with the condom.

Miguel feels out of his body as you slide it down with care, hands moving as if you were molding clay. 

It wasn’t until he was on top of you that he felt that this was really happening. The foreplay between you a spot of comfort and habit.

After so long, he finally slid in deep, the pit of his stomach quivering. You were so unbearably tight.

“Y-you ok?” Miguel squeezed onto your hand, watching your eyebrows knit together. 

“Yeah, it’s just,” you chuckle, breath almost gone from the feeling of him. “You’re really big.”

Miguel’s face shifted from worried to shocked. 

“Oh! Well, I guess that’s a good thing?”

“You don’t have to guess, I can feel it.”

Miguel twitched and jolted involuntarily, causing you to whimper, your words going straight south. 

“Miguel! Stop moving.”

“Sorry! You’re really tight right now and I’m trying to focus.” 

“God,” you sigh and let your head drop to your pillow. “Are we even doing this right?”

“No clue.”

Miguel kissed your collarbone as you wrapped your arms under his. He continued to kiss across your shoulders, lips light and airy. Up your neck to your jaw, he could feel you relax and breathe a little easier. 

He grazes his mouth to your cheeks, humming as you move them closer to his lips. He kisses your temple, your eyebrows, your forehead. At your nose, you start to giggle, Miguel’s kisses leaving flutters on your skin. 

Miguel joins in on your joy, grinning as you try to return the pecks. 

“Ok,” you whisper. “I think I’m ready. You can move now.”

“You sure?”

“Yes. I want you to make me feel good. I want you to feel good.”

Miguel looked at your eyes, waiting, wanting, open. He couldn’t help but to think how lucky he was to have a girl like you who was just so beautiful and lovely. 

His body is pressed against yours, the plush of your chest molding onto his. Your legs were wrapped around his thighs and your fingers danced across his back. 

He takes a hand to hold the side of your face while the other one is pressing you even closer to him. He moves out as best as he can, the warmth of you an addicting feeling, and slides back in slowly, a shallow thrust to start off. 

Your breath was hot against his mouth as you shuddered. Miguel groaned, feeling the heat of you through the thin condom. 

He moved again, watching as your face twisted and turned. Your hands are pressed against his back, palms applying pressure until the feeling stretches to your fingertips. The pricks of your nails dig softly into Miguel’s skin, muscles moving as he tucks your hair away from your face. 

By the third thrust, Miguel is moaning out, overwhelmed with you everywhere. When he breathes, you breathe. When he tightens his hand on your back, you tighten yours. When the feeling of you becomes too much to bear, you’re right there with him, eyes heavy and wet. 

Everything was heightened, from the sound of the bed squeaking as Miguel’s hips moved, to the little sounds you made when he inched in deeper. He’s scared he might shout in your face due to how good you feel so he presses against your lips, grunts coming out with each thrust. 

You take him with stride, hands balling up to fists as he gets deeper and deeper. 

His name from your lips is broken down from two syllables to four, enunciation clear enough for Miguel to know that he’s doing something right. 

“Don’t stop,” you plead, gaze reaching Miguel’s soul. “Please.”

“I won’t.” He would never leave if he had the choice. “Am I, shit, am I doing good? Do you feel alright?”

He shifts back to see your face and his heart speeds up watching you under him. Your arms fall to the bed and your mouth stutters open as Miguel continues. 

Your eyes drip as you let out staccato moans and Miguel leans down to kiss away your tears. 

“C’mon, bebé, let me know.”

You nod your head and cry out when Miguel goes even deeper. He hums against your mouth as a thank you. 

“Miggy, I,” you stop as you take a breath. 

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

A rush of heat from top to bottom filled Miguel’s core. The air left his lungs swiftly and came back in twice as fast. His back shook, nerves like a spring. All he could hear was your breaths, all he could smell was your warm skin, all he could taste was the lingering touch of your tongue, all could feel was the hot valley of you, all he could see was you.

He dies and comes back to life, sight piecing together that the stars and hearts were not part of you but they were just his muddled brain taking you in like the first day he met you. His throat burns like he swallowed hot coal. 

Your mouth is moving but he still can’t connect the words yet. He feels himself floating away. 

“Baby?” the way that your hands grip his body ground him. “Can you hear me?”

“Yes,” Miguel nods, eyes blinking fast. “What just happened.”

“I think you came?”

Miguel looked down, and sure enough, you were right. 

He doesn’t remember you getting any relief. 

“Can I-” he groans as you clamp down on him when tries to pull out. “Can we do that again?”

You nod your head, “Please.” 

GymRat!Miguel who, after a brand new condom and a clearer mind, realizes that he has a lot of work to do. 

He knew that you were his everything, but he couldn’t deny that he was a little embarrassed. You swore to him that it was ok, flattering even, but Miguel isn’t buying it. 

Your legs were bent at his sides as he lifted your hips off the mattress. He held them up as he stroked deep and focused on the sound of your breaths. 

“B-baby,” your voice is stunted as Miguel keeps a steady tempo. “Look at me”

Miguel groans into your neck, shuddering from the sound of your voice and your hands rubbing his sides. Your moans were high in your throat, breaking as Miguel’s hands pushed and pulled at your skin. 

“I can’t.”

“Why,” your words fizzle as Miguel hits a sweet spot. “Why not?”

“If I look at you, I’m gonna cum.”

Miguel goes faster as he feels you constrict against him. The bed creaks as the sound of him delving into you gets louder and louder. 

“Oh,” your nails scratch his back. Miguel matches your voice, desperate to please you. 

You open your mouth again, a three-letter phrase ghosting your tongue. 

“D-don’t,” Miguel’s hips freeze and unfreeze as he hears the first vowel leave your mouth.

“I wanna see you.”

Miguel shifts, eyes finding yours, and he knows he won’t make it. 

He tells you just as much and you pull him closer. 

“Te amo, mi luna.”

Miguel cries as he feels the air leaving him. He reaches down to touch you, your body jolting when his fingers graze your clit. 

You cum around him and he pushed through, waiting until you were shaking to let go. 

“You,” Miguel leans his forehead on yours. Both of you are shaking, blood pumping with adrenaline. “Play so unfair.”

“But you love me?”

He cuddles into your thumbs wiping at his eyes, “So much. I love you so, so much.”

You kiss him, feeling warm and satisfied, sighing as he melts on top of you. You run your fingers through his wild hair and scratch at his name. 

After a while, Miguel perks up, eyes sparkly and big like a little puppy. 

“A-again.”

“What?”

GymRat!Miguel who pulls you to the edge of the bed by your legs. You yelp at his strength and the icy pricks of the hotel A/C coating your overheating skin. 

Miguel slides back in with a practiced ease, the angle different, but not unfamiliar. 

He held your legs and hips from the bed, watching as your body moved from the faster momentum he produced. 

Your voice reaches the ceiling as your hands grip for anything. Seeing your reaction, Miguel grips your hips and your stomach, angling even deeper. It was fulfilling until your hands landed on your chest, stopping them from jerking so.

Miguel pulled your wrists together and down, watching as your arms framed your chest. He moans out your name, eyes stuck on the picture presented before him. 

How could anyone ever believe you were not beautiful? 

GymRat!Miguel who can’t help but to ask for one more round. In your disheveled state, you tell him it’s the last one. 

The sounds leaving your bodies were enough to make the bed blush. It was something so perfect about the whispers you mewled into each other's skin contrasting the wet sound of Miguel slapping into your wet entrance. 

Somehow you were nearly bent in half, knees almost next to your ears, as Miguel’s feet were planted on the bed. You didn’t even know your body could do that. 

At every smack of skin, Miguel was moaning your name louder and louder, mind completely gone. 

“I’m, ngh, gonna cum!” Your voice comes out at a volume that matches his. 

Miguel nods, encouraging you to release, kissing along your skin. 

You shout as he swerves his hips, melting your cour as he slides along your sweet spots. 

“So good,” Miguel says, balls twitching against you as crumbles to the bed. “So amazing. Mi luz, mi sol.”

The two of you catch your breath in the dim hotel lighting, jolting with aftershocks of your anniversary. 

GymRat!Miguel who held you on his chest as you slept, lips pressed against the top of your head. He checked his phone before going to sleep, wanting to set a timer for the morning. 

A Game Exchange’s Worst Nightmare

Miggy Mig MC: I did it

Winner-Winner: ???

Ly(ability)la: Only you would announce losing your virginity like that

Tempie: omg

You’re not a baby anymore 🥺

What am I gonna do

Winner-Winner: WAIT

LESGOOOO

Tempie: I never thought this day would come

Winner-Winner: you was tearing it up wasn’t you? 🤪

Ly(ability)la: you’re so annoying

Tempie: like I didn’t prepare fast enough

I

I WASNT READY

Winner-Winner: I hope you did that trick I taught you

It gets em every time

Guaranteed banger

Tempie: This actually ruined my night

Ly(ability)la: Temp is losing it and so is Wins

Congrats to you ig

Winner-Winner: I bet she’s KNOCKED OUUOOT

Ly(ability)la: is being normal like not in your cards or…

Tempie: I think I’m sick

Miggy Mig MC: .....

Gabri 🤏🏽🤡:

“I did it”

“No fucking way"

"NO FUCKING WAY"

"AND? AND SO?"

“It was just as good as you say. That’s all I’m saying.”

"I feel like I need to throw something on the grill"

“Not too much Gabri”

GymRat!Miguel who wrapped his arms around you as you fixed up something the next morning. 

“G’morning,” you say to a heavy Miguel leaning down on you. 

“Super good morning,” his hands reach to cup your left breast and your stomach under your robe. He left a long kiss on your shoulder. “Whatcha doing?”

“‘M getting your gift together.”

“Another one?”

“Mm-hm.”

“Well, let me step up my game.’

GymRat!Miguel who sits with you on the bed as you both trade gifts.

“Aw, Miguel! How am I supposed to eat these? You look so cute here,” you took a piece of candy in your hand and looked his face planted on it. 

“Like this,” Miguel takes your hand and guides the candy to his mouth. 

You smile watching him, body warm. 

GymRat!Miguel who watches your eyes glow when you see the dolphin charm with the date that you two took our first date. 

“Put it on me?”

Miguel slid the jewelry over your skin, watching as gold danced against your skin.

GymRat!Miguel who feels like crying when flipped through the scrapbook you made. Each section matched a song in the playlist you made for him. 

It was so thoroughly crafted and thought out that Miguel couldn’t stop the waterworks. 

“Why did I think that outfit was cool?” Miguel laughed wetly as he saw a picture of you both at a pumpkin patch.

“You look adorable,” you catch his tear on your thumb and hug his side.

GymRat!Miguel who drops you off at your dorm with kiss after kiss to your lips. 

Jess opens the door with a dramatic sigh, “The two of you are glowing. How cute.”

GymRat!Miguel who reaches back to his night with you every time he’s sick of the class he’s in. 

A little bit dangerous when it comes to his labs, but everything is reminding him of you. He can’t even look at his blanket without thinking about the way your shirt draped your body. 

Maybe he should make love to you with it next time.

GymRat!Miguel who is in a daze during his programming lab. 

“Earth to Miguel. Did you finish the mini code?”

“Uh, yeah,” Miguel replied to Xina. 

“Good, because I need you to check this equation really quick. I need to turn it in later this week.”

Miguel leaned over to Xina’s laptop, arm reaching across her. 

“So,” she slides her nails up his arm. “What do you think?”

“It’s fine. This part is very wrong, though.”

She squeezes at his muscle, chest pressing on him.

“Are you cold or something?”

“No, why do you ask?”

“Because,” Miguel slides her laptop in front of him. “You’re really touchy today.”

“Miguel, I’m always touchy.”

She puts an arm on the back of her rolling chair and leans on her wrist. 

“True.”

“Is there a problem with friendly touches?”

“No, Xina. I’m not like that.”

“Ok,” she holds her hands up in defense. “I’m just trying to understand.”

“Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“That,” Miguel says turning to her, “Being weird. Overstepping.”

Xina folds her arms and nods her head, “I got it.”

GymRat!Miguel whose time with you dwindles within the next couple of weeks. If it’s not studying, it’s the robotics team. If it’s not the robotics team, it’s his class schedule never matching yours. If it’s not your studios, it’s his study sessions with Xina. 

Currently, she was sitting beside him on the first floor of the library, head on his shoulder as she sighed over a new formula. 

“This is so gross,” she said, wiping away eraser shavings.

“Did you even try?”

“Like, once. That was enough.”

GymRat!Miguel who gets your text and looks up to where he knew you’d come from. He felt like he could feel you close, but the entrance was so far away he couldn’t see. 

He got up for a second, turning and standing tall to catch a glimpse. 

“I know you’re not about to give up this. You said it was easy! That’s not the Miguel I know,” Xina grabbed his wrist, hands unbearably hot. 

His phone buzzed again. You said you were going back to your studio. 

He sighed and sat back down, mind foggy.

divider by: @thecutestgrotto + @adornedwithlight 🩵

a/n: Y'all know that gif with the smoking duck? I feel like that but I would replace the cigarette with an Icee or something.

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[nerdallwritey]

Just to Ruin Me

Summary: “You don’t have to tell me any of this right now,” you said. “A lot has changed in the past few hours and there’s no rush in sharing these things with me. I know how hard it was to talk about your past the first time.” “It was necessary, though,” Astarion looked over at you, his expression determined. “You needed to know what we might be up against. And you might need to know this too.” “If you want to tell me, then I’m happy to listen, but please don’t force yourself for my sake.” Astarion released a puff of air from his nose. “You keep doing that.” “Doing what?” “Asking me what I want. Letting me choose.” OR The morning after you spend the night with Astarion, you learn another thing or two.

Pairing: Astarion x f!reader Rating: 18+ Word count: 12.5k CW: smut, reader is new to sex, piv sex, vaginal fingering, dry humping, mentions of Astarion's past trauma, blood drinking, mild angst, soft Astarion, porn with feelings, reader is an idiot (and a bard), so is Astarion (not a bard, just an idiot), the other companions are also idiots, but don't piss of Shadowheart Spoilers: Minor spoilers for Act 1 (in-game dialogue, plot points, etc.), as well as Astarion's plotline Also posted to: AO3 FAIR WARNING: This is PART 2 in my series, "Beauty and the Bard." Find Part 1 here. Find the masterlist here.

a/n: Thanks to everyone who read Part 1!!! Your kind comments and encouragement spurred me to write Part 2 and I hope it's a sequel that lives up to expectations!! I know the summary is a little angsty, but I promise there's more banter to be had. Everyone is still a goof, after all. Please enjoy :) (Thank you to @kermitwazowski for beta reading!) As a reminder, the last part ended with the following few lines: “For now, you were content to sleep under the stars in Astarion’s arms. It was the best sleep you’d ever had.”

Taglist: @a66-1 @khaleesiofthewolves @khywren @lollipopsandlandmines @minestrones

Okay, so maybe it wasn’t the best sleep you’d ever had.

Though you’d grown accustomed to roughing it in the last few weeks since the nautiloid crash, waking up in the forest was still a shock. It had its charms, sure, like the fresh air and the breeze blowing in off the mountains, but the appeal was starting to wane. Especially after one too many nights of having to take a dip in the frigid lake next to camp to rid yourself of gnoll blood. 

This morning however, you found yourself surrounded by blankets and pillows from your camp in the middle of a clearing surrounded by large pine trees, all of which had been thoughtfully arranged by the figure trancing beside you. Your own sleeping figure sighed comfortably, unbothered by the lack of a mattress or a hot bath, just a nice deep sleep-

Astarion whacked you in the face.

Your eyes shot open.

“OW?” You scrunched your nose and blinked a few times to get your bearings. 

It was still dark. The forest around you was painted a delicate shade of periwinkle. You’d hazard a guess that it was just a little before dawn. 

At some point in the night, you’d rolled onto your back, away from Astarion, who was now curled to your right, his back facing you. He must have just rolled over, explaining the harsh wake up from his forearm. You smiled softly and instinctively brought your hand to rub your forehead where he’d made the unfortunate contact. 

Blinking a little more, your eyes were beginning to adjust. From this angle, you had a clear line of sight to the large scar that overran a majority of his back. You squinted in the dark to try and get a clearer view of the terrible thing, but came up short due to the shadows of tree branches being cast from above. Still just a mandala of jagged lines and brutal curves. When you got your hands on Cazador, you’d…

No.

No, that wasn’t your fight. 

But you’d be gods damned if you wouldn’t be there for every bloody moment Astarion faced him, giving support however you could. Though you had to admit that it would be so gratifying to corner the bastard and cast a quick little Otto’s Irresistible Dance… Assuming you’d be strong enough to cast it by then… Gods, he’d look so fucking stupid just before Astarion plunged a knife through his heart-

Enough. Battle strategies and sick, twisted (but satisfying) revenge fantasies later. Right now you noticed that the shifting of the shadows on his back wasn’t from a breeze shaking the branches above you, but because Astarion himself was trembling. 

Your first instinct was to reach out and touch him, but you quickly retracted your hand. Based on the short whimpers he was letting out, it seemed like he was having a nightmare.

How was one supposed to wake someone from a nightmare again? With Astarion you’d have to be extra careful; you wouldn’t be surprised if he’d stowed a knife somewhere within these blankets that he might reach for in a surge of waking fear. 

That… would not be pleasant. 

You shifted to sit up and look around.

Ow.

A dull throbbing made itself known between your legs.

No, that was great. Spectacular, in fact. You’d have to stop and assess later.

Gingerly, you got onto your knees and peered around at your surroundings. Astarion had done a decent job of cleaning up the clearing to make room for this blanket nest, so there wasn’t a poking stick to be seen within reaching distance.

Not that you were going to poke him with a stick… but the thought had crossed your mind. You were still tired! You’d been fucked for the first time last night! There was a lot going on! 

You shook your head to clear the stupid overlapping thoughts and set to looking around for a wayward pillow. You spotted one in the far corner and made your way over to it carefully but with some haste to end Astarion’s unconscious suffering. 

You crawled back over to him. And then backed up a little. Just in case.

“Astarion,” you sang quietly. 

Astarion continued trembling, but you heard him inhale sharply. A good sign?

You raised your voice a little, but kept the same musical cadence. “Astaaaarioooon.”

Nothing.

Okay fine. 

“Sorry,” you said quietly, then threw the pillow at Astarion, hitting him squarely on the back of the head. You leaned forward to grab your own pillow as a protective shield as he gasped and shot up.

“What the hells? What’s happening?” Astarion rolled onto his back and frantically looked around until his eyes landed on you. 

You smiled sheepishly and waved at him lamely from behind your pillow. “Hi.”

Astarion narrowed his eyes, confused. He shook his head, then lifted a hand to the back of his head where the pillow had hit him. “What did you do?”

“You were having a nightmare.”

“Oh, I know what I was doing,” his tone was sarcastic. “What were you doing?”

You looked down at your lap, guilty. “I couldn’t remember how to wake someone up from a nightmare.”

“So you assaulted me?”

“I didn’t know if you had a knife!”

“Why would I have a knife? What is happening?!” He sat up fully and brought a hand to his forehead as if he were in pain. 

“Are you okay?”

“Thankfully, I’ll live,” he opened his eyes and looked at you, his hand still on his forehead. 

You huffed. “I meant with the nightmare.”

Astarion sighed and closed his eyes again. “It’s far too early to discuss this.” He tilted his head up towards the sky, which was getting brighter with every passing moment. A practiced smirk appeared on his face and he looked at you once more. “I’d much rather know if you’re okay, darling.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. 

“We had a lot of fun last night, didn’t we?”

“Seeing as how I’m always a lot of fun, I don’t understand why you’re posing this question.” You looked down your nose at him. 

He hung his head and sighed exasperatedly. “Will you simply allow me to work my charms on you?”

You tutted. “Is that what you were trying to do just now?”

“Attempting to, yes.” Astarion crossed his arms. “I’m usually irresistible.”

You snorted. “Okay,” you said, a small smile appearing on your face. “I’m going to ignore your lack of an answer about your nightmare and will elect to wait until you’re ready to tell me about it yourself.”

Astarion pursed his lips.

“But go ahead,” you rearranged your legs, wincing mildly as you moved to sit cross legged, “charm me.”

A look of worry flashed over Astarion’s face when he saw you wince, but the concern was quickly overtaken by an all too self-satisfied grin. “Feeling it this morning, are we?”

You rolled your eyes. “I knew you’d be happy about this.”

“Positively delighted, my sweet.” He leaned forward and kissed you gently, bringing a hand up to your cheek. You brought your own hand up to lay against his. He pulled away and appraised your face smugly. “I was completely enamored by your performance last night.” You were about to open your mouth to say something, but Astarion interrupted. “Don’t even think about mentioning that you’re a bard and that of course you’re good at performing, or something like that.”

You closed your mouth. You were going to say something like that. Instead you said, “You were pretty good yourself.”

He brought his hands up to make air quotes. “I’ve ‘ruined you,’ from what I recall.”

You groaned. “I just said that to make you cum.”

“Whatever you need to tell yourself, my dear.” His face was still smug, but he motioned for you to come closer. You scooted forward and he lifted you slightly to sit on his lap. 

He leaned up and kissed you deeply, his tongue swiping your bottom lip for entrance. You moaned in response and opened your mouth for him. Though the rest of his body was cold, his mouth was warm and inviting, and you leaned in further to try and get closer. You wrapped your arms around his neck and tilted your head slightly to get a better angle. You’d been mildly distracted last night; had he always smelled this good?

When Astarion pulled back suddenly, you couldn’t help the whine that escaped at the loss. He hummed in satisfaction, and his voice was low and seductive when he spoke.

“Every part of your perfect body whispers temptations-”

You giggled. “What?”

“Shush dear, I’m charming you.” He cleared his throat, “-it’s as if the gods made you just to ruin me.”

“So now I’ve ruined you?” You raised your eyebrows teasingly.

“Wait, no-”

You leaned your forehead onto his and laughed. “And that one usually works?”

He blew out a puff of air. “You’re an unusual one, I’ll give you that.” 

You shrugged, pleased with yourself.

“But yes,” Astarion continued, “I’ve made plenty of previous lovers swoon with that particular line.”

“Show me what else you’ve got, then,” you challenged.

Astarion tilted his head in thought. “Let’s see… I can’t use the ‘cried from your lips’ line because I used that one last night…” You scoffed joyfully, mockingly scandalized that he’d already used a line on you. He met your eye and smirked. “How about this one: When I’m with you, I feel practically alive, yet I crave only to die again, with you.”

The sultry tone of his voice did send a pang of want through your body, reminding you that you were only wearing Astarion’s shirt and nothing else. You shifted uncomfortably. 

“How romantic,” you said, trying to keep your voice nonchalant. “I didn’t think you liked dying the first time.”

Astarion narrowed his eyes, sensing your deflection and smirked, looking down at where you sat on his lap. He rolled his hips, which made you inhale sharply. “I see that one did do something for you,” he leaned forward and kissed your neck. 

You exhaled slowly, “I blame that stupid sexy voice of yours.”

Astarion growled against your throat and you shivered, bringing your hands up to his back. 

“Astarion,” you sighed and he hummed in response, licking over the twin wounds he’d left the night before. You sat up a little straighter. “Wait.”

He immediately pulled back and looked at you with concern. “What is it?”

“I just thought of something,” you said.

Astarion raised his eyebrows and nodded, wanting you to continue.

“Can I borrow your fangs?”

“My-?�� His tongue instinctively flicked over his teeth.

“Because I want to leave a lasting impression on you,” you tilted your head at him to show off the marks he’d left on your throat. You shimmied your shoulders a little for good measure. 

“I’m leaving,” Astarion made to get up with you still on his lap and you laughed loudly.

“No! No! I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I wanted to try a dumb line on you, too!” You threw your arms around his neck and hid your face in his shoulder. You felt him kiss your hair.

“You’re lucky I don’t travel with you for your personality,” he joked. 

“I’d say ‘I’m a lot of fun’ again but I think you’d actually stop talking to me.” You pulled back to look at him.

“And you’d be right.” He kissed you chastely and then adjusted you on his lap. You winced a little again and he looked genuinely sympathetic. “I might have a way to ease the pain from last night,” he said. “Do you trust me?”

You smiled at him. “Yes.”

He smiled back. “Good.” He positioned your arms over his shoulders. “Hang on, my love.” You crossed your arms where they hung behind him and waited to see what he would do. 

Without warning, you felt one of his cold fingers slide through your folds. You hissed at the sensation and looked at Astarion. 

“Supposedly, massaging the area can help,” he was trying to sound knowledgeable, but the look in his eyes was one full of lust. Then he tutted, looking down. “You could be wetter, darling.” His thumb began to circle your clit.

Your eyes rolled back at the sensation, and you leaned forward again to rest your forehead on his shoulder. 

“Do you want my cock again, love? You took me so well last night, I was so proud of you,” he’d moved his mouth next to your ear and was speaking with the same sultry tone that he had a minute ago. You whimpered at his praise and rolled your hips to get his thumb to press you harder. Astarion let out a low groan. “That’s it, you’re getting so wet for me, you’re so good.”

After a few more tight circles, you practically sobbed when you felt him take his thumb away from your clit.

“Shh, shh, I know,” he cooed, “but we want you to feel better, remember?”

You let out a frustrated sound. “I already was feeling better.”

Astarion chuckled. “Trust me, would you? Impatient.” His tone was nothing but fond.

His other fingers began massaging the area around your entrance. You winced and bit your lip. 

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“Fine,” you confirmed. “I assume this will get better?”

“That’s the idea,” he kissed your ear and you nodded against his shoulder. 

You rolled your hips, attempting to get friction where you needed it. 

“Just a little longer,” Astarion said, moving his fingers gently around your cunt.

You hummed an acknowledgement and kept rolling your hips, trying to combat this weird form of edging that was happening. 

Finally, Astarion ceased his massaging and brought his thumb back to your clit. You let out a long shuddering breath and squeezed your eyes tight, adjusting your hips to roll against his thigh. 

“There you go, my love,” Astarion said, voice still in your ear. “I’ll make you cum for behaving so well.”

You whined loudly as his thumb picked up the pace. You began rolling your hips at an equally fast pace. “More,” you whined, willing your climax to approach faster.

“Not right now, darling. Let’s give you a break there, shall we?” Astarion used his free hand to pet your hair. 

“But you asked if I wanted your cock again,” you whined.

“And while I’m pleased to hear that you’d like it again, let’s relax and get you off like this for now, okay?” 

You groaned but nodded, squeezing your eyes shut again and focusing on the pleasure Astarion was currently providing. “Harder,” you instructed.

Astarion pressed down harder on your clit with his thumb. He swept his index and middle finger through your folds, coating them in your slick. He quickly swapped those fingers with his thumb, changing the sensation by swapping one finger for two and adding more of your arousal to the mix. 

You keened and gripped his bicep. “Harder!” You instructed again, desperate and approaching the edge. You could feel the coil in your stomach preparing to let go.

Astarion pushed again and brought his lips to your ear once more. 

“I just thought of something, precious thing,” he murmured.

You blinked at him, your eyes unfocused and half lidded.

“More of a question, really,” he clarified.

You squeezed your eyes tight, nodding. You were on the precipice of your orgasm and could feel it fastly approaching. You slammed your hips against Astarion’s thigh as he continued to rub your clit brutally. 

“Do you believe in love at first bite?” He leaned forward and kissed your throat, then began to suck a new mark into the flesh there. Contrary to his pun, he wouldn’t drink from you without your expressed permission first.

It did, however, send you crashing over the edge. You moaned loudly, Astarion’s name tumbling repeatedly out of your mouth. The vision behind your eyelids was white and you reached out blindly to grip Astarion’s shoulders. His lips detached themselves from your throat and found your own. His tongue was immediately in your mouth, swallowing your moans and shouts of his name.

When you came down, you disconnected from the kiss and opened your eyes, a lopsided grin on your face. 

“Thank you,” you said. “I do feel better.”

Astarion smirked. “I knew you would.” He brought his fingers, still coated in your essence, up to his mouth and sucked them clean. You watched, mesmerized by the way his cheeks hollowed and his eyes fluttered shut. He pulled them out with a lewd pop. “Delicious.”

You felt your face flush, embarrassed by his display, despite just cumming in his lap. 

“You shouldn’t feel embarrassed about this,” Astarion said, reading your expression immediately. “What you should feel embarrassed about is the fact that you came because I told a joke.”

“I did not!” You protested.

“You absolutely did,” Astarion said. “And it was a particularly bad one, too.” He clicked his tongue. “You must feel so ashamed.”

You groaned. “I came because you started kissing my neck!”

Astarion raised his eyebrows, clearly not believing you. “It’s okay, darling, no one here was under the impression that you aren’t incredibly lame.” He gave you a pitying look, then kissed your nose and you laughed. He pulled back and looked at you fondly, a dopey half smile on his face. Then he looked up at the sky.

The periwinkle you’d awoken to was now vibrant shades of orange and pink. 

“Are you okay if I move you?” Astarion asked.

“Um… sure?” You weren’t sure why he was asking, and helped to move yourself off of him. You did feel a bit less sore thanks to his help. 

He stood up and stretched his arms over his head, then bent to pick up a rag to wipe off his pants. 

“Sorry,” you said.

Astarion shook his head. “Comes with the territory.” You were about to make a joke but he held up a finger and gave you a warning look. “Don’t.”

You held up your hands innocently. 

He tossed you the rag after and then your pants and underthings.

“Clean up,” he instructed, “then get dressed.”

You furrowed your brows, your stomach dropping suddenly. He didn’t expect you to leave right now, did he? He hadn’t fucked you last night, then brought you more pleasure this morning, only for him to send you back to camp like it hadn’t happened, right?

Astarion snorted. He was watching you as he slipped on his shoes. “Relax, darling, I see that face. I just want to show you something.” He held out a hand to help you up.

“Okay,” you smiled, soothed by the pleasant look on his face. “Do you want your shirt back?” You made to lift it over your head.

“Keep it for now, dear,” Astarion said. “I rather like that on you, truthfully.” The collar was slipping off your shoulder as you pulled on your pants, and you made no move to adjust it, opting not to put your bra back on yet.

“Do you want to wear my shirt?” you teased.

“Tempting, but I fear I’d look better in it than you do.”

“Excellent point, don’t do that.” You adjusted the ruffles on Astarion’s shirt and felt a light breeze on your cleavage through the lacey opening at the collar. 

“Gods, you’re beautiful,” he said. You looked up and caught Astarion staring at your chest.

You laughed as he cleared his throat, then gestured deeper into the woods with his head. “This way.” He held out a tentative hand and you took it eagerly, bringing the back of his palm up to your face to leave a gentle kiss. Astarion squeezed your hand slightly at the contact, and began heading further into the forest, away from camp. A pleasant silence hung between the two of you and you rubbed your thumb absently along the back of his hand.

It wasn’t long before the trees started to thin and you heard the sound of rushing water somewhere close by. You emerged from the trees to find a cliff overlooking a ravine below. On the other side of the ravine was more forest, and beyond that, you could faintly see the Sea of Swords. The sun peeked out over the horizon, bright reddish orange in the distance. Its glow was a welcome sight and you found yourself in awe of the view.

Astarion let go of your hand and sat, dangling his feet over the edge of the cliff. You hesitantly stepped forward and sat beside him, opting instead to sit with one knee up, the other leg crossed beneath it. Astarion sat back on his arms. The sun reflected off his skin in the most beautiful golden and magenta hues. His hair, somehow still perfect despite your night together, was being jostled lightly by the breeze. He’d closed his eyes and tipped his head up, basking. You couldn’t help watching him as you rested your cheek on your bent knee. 

He didn’t open his eyes when he said, “I try to come out here every morning.” 

You sat in silence, continuing to watch him as you prepared to listen to whatever he’d say next. 

“After two hundred years in darkness, you forget how lovely the sunrise is,” he said. “I don’t ever want to miss another.”

“I can’t even begin to imagine what that must have been like,” you said softly. 

Astarion hummed in acknowledgment and opened his eyes. “I’d catch glimpses while lurking around the city for too long before dawn, hopping from shadow to shadow until I made it back to Cazador’s manor.” His eyes didn’t waver from the sun in the distance. “But there were moments where I’d catch a glimpse of it over the Chionthar.” His tone became sardonic. “The promise of a new day emerging! Something that I would never get to participate in.” He sighed. “I’d linger as long as I could in those moments.” 

You nodded, picturing a hopeful Astarion hiding behind buildings and in alleys, trying to get a fleeting look at a phenomenon that occurred every day, one that you took for granted. Your heart ached for him. 

He continued. “I never quite told you what Cazador made his spawn do for him.”

You tried to recall what Astarion had said to you before. Only that he’d been made to go out into the city and bring back “the most beautiful souls” he could find. Then Cazador would make him either drink from a disgusting dead rat, or abuse him for refusing. The thought made you visibly shudder. 

“I know that you had to bring people back to-” you lowered your voice, as if saying his name might summon him, “-Cazador, against your will. And that he’d kill them.” 

Astarion nodded his head once, remorsefully. “I never told you how we lured them.”

You could see pain etched into his features. You reached out a hand and placed it on his shoulder. He flinched a bit at the contact, but settled when he looked over at you.

“You don’t have to tell me any of this right now,” you said. “A lot has changed in the past few hours and there’s no rush in sharing these things with me. I know how hard it was to talk about your past the first time.”

“It was necessary, though,” Astarion looked over at you, his expression determined. “You needed to know what we might be up against. And you might need to know this too.”

“If you want to tell me, then I’m happy to listen, but please don’t force yourself for my sake.”

Astarion released a puff of air from his nose. “You keep doing that.”

“Doing what?”

“Asking me what I want. Letting me choose.” 

You cocked your head sympathetically. “And I take it two hundred years as a slave hasn’t really afforded you any choice.”

“Correct,” he sighed. “As a spawn, your vampiric master has complete control over your body and your actions. Even in moments where I wanted to defy or fight back, I was powerless to do anything.” 

Your heart jumped into your throat. You hadn’t realized that was how it worked. Having no control over yourself or your actions sounded like a complete nightmare and you were glad that you’d hopefully never have to experience it. Knowing that that had been Astarion’s entire existence for the past two centuries made you sick to your stomach. 

“I’m sorry,” you said, just as you’d said the last few times he’d shared glimpses of his past.

Astarion’s eyes were closed once again as he inhaled deeply, then exhaled. He continued to bask in the rising sun for a few silent moments and you watched as it slowly rose higher into the sky. 

“That nightmare I had,” he said, his voice coming out quiet, “I’ve had it before.”

Again, you said nothing and waited for him to continue.

“I actually had the same one the night you let me drink your blood for the first time.”

“Oh, please don’t tell me that drinking my blood was some sort of revenge plot against me for haunting your nightmares.”

Astarion smiled a little. “No, it wasn’t about you. It was about Cazador.”

“You know, I’m really starting to dislike this guy,” you said, knowing how difficult this was for him and trying to keep his mood up with another little joke. 

“You and me both,” he sounded tired. “In the dream, I’m in the forest. Cazador appears and recites the rules of being his vampire spawn.” He held up his hand and recounted them on his fingers: “‘First, thou shalt not drink the blood of thinking creatures. Second, thou shall obey me in all things. Third, thou shalt not leave my side, unless directed. Fourth, thou shalt know that thou art mine.’” 

You listened patiently as Astarion recited each rule almost mechanically. You scrunched your nose with each passing instruction and rolled your eyes dramatically when Astarion finished.

“What a prick.”

He smiled again. “With an archaic speech pattern.”

“I was going to mention his archaic speech pattern.”

The smile faded slowly as Astarion returned to his thoughts. “The dream ends with Cazador telling me I’m his forever. That I can never escape.” 

You let the words hang in the air for a moment. “And yet, here you are.”

“Here I am,” he said humorlessly. He laid down fully on his back, the sun high enough to bathe him completely in its glow. He rested his arms behind his head and angled himself to look at you. “I realized, if I could walk in the sun, what other vampiric laws could I break?”

You looked down at him, admiring the light glinting off his bare chest. “So you decided to test your theory on me? I’m touched.” You held a hand to your chest, pretending to be deeply moved.

“In all honesty, I thought you were the least likely to kill me if I got caught.” He smirked at you. “And it would seem I was right.”

“I wouldn’t have let any of the others kill you,” you said firmly.

Astarion chuckled. “How sweet. My brave little protector.” He reached over to pinch your cheek.

You swatted him away. “Hey, who saved your ass from a bugbear yesterday?”

He shrugged. “I would have been fine.”

You leaned forward and shoved him lightly, making him laugh and throw his arm forward as a shield. 

When his laughter died down, his face grew a touch more serious again. “When you so graciously assaulted me this morning, he’d just finished telling me rule number three; that I can’t leave him unless he tells me to.”

You thought for a moment. “Which begs the question,” Astarion looked over at you expectantly, “how did you end up out here? From what I recall, the sun was still out when the nautiloid reached the Gate. You didn’t have the tadpole yet, so how’d you escape?”

“I wouldn’t say it was much of an escape.” His eyes shifted up to the sky, his expression thoughtful. “I was looking for new victims for Cazador. It was dusk and I had just been given the order to go out and hunt. I was weaving through shadows, avoiding the setting sun, but there’s only so many places one can hide from a giant tentacle that won’t burn you to a crisp. One of the tentacles caught me when I attempted to flee down an alleyway. A complete accident.”

“If it helps, I tripped while running away.”

“Of course you did.” He sighed. “Figures it would take an alien invasion to finally free me from his clutches. Not some,” he waved his hands in the air, gesturing to nothing in particular, “heroic figure sent by the gods to save me and smite that horrible man down to somewhere further and more vile than the Nine Hells.” His hands fell ungracefully to his sides.

He wasn’t wrong. How could any god worth their salt claim to be holier than thou when such suffering was occuring right under their noses? And you were pretty sure, based on tales you’d heard of Mystra and Shar from Gale and Shadowheart, that the gods hadn’t planned for the nautiloids or the rise of the Absolute. Yet if it weren’t for any of that, Astarion would still be trapped in Baldur’s Gate and your adventure thus far would have looked very different.

“If I’d known, I would have done something,” you said, knowing it was more complicated than that, but still wanting to help somehow. 

“Darling, if I’d met you in Baldur’s Gate, I would not have hesitated to take you to Cazador.”

That hurt. 

You said as much. “Ouch.”

“Well,” he sounded angry, though he directed it up towards the sky and not at you, “I wouldn’t have had a choice! Sure, it would have been a little novel, given how inexperienced you are, but regardless, I would have handed you off to him as soon as I’d made you finish.”

Ah. So that was how he lured people. It made sense, now that you put the pieces together; Astarion was so experienced because he had to be. Of course unsuspecting victims would fall prey to the allure of an eternally beautiful vampire, especially the one laying next to you. Of course the promise of pleasure from someone that sexy would be the obvious thing to agree to. It was a wonder your paths had never crossed before the nautiloid. 

“Once,” Astarion broke the silence that had fallen between you, his tone distant, “in the first decade of my slavery, I found a darling boy who I couldn’t bear to bring back to him.” He finally looked over at you, his eyes full of sadness. “So I ran, instead of hurting that sweet man.”

You reached for his hand, then thought better of it. All his snide “don’t touch me’s” on the road now held a new, terrible weight.

“After Cazador caught me, the bastard sealed me, starving, inside a dusty tomb, all on my own, for an entire year. A year of silence”

A hand flew to your mouth. “Astarion…” you felt your eyes begin to prick with tears and did your best to will them away, fearing that they might make Astarion stop sharing.

He went on. “Months of scratching my hands raw, trying to carve my way out, more months of not moving at all. Months wishing only for death.” He took a deep breath, then blew it out shakily. “So no, I wouldn’t have hesitated, had we crossed paths.”

You opened and closed your mouth several times, attempting to find words that could possibly compose an appropriate response to the horrors you currently refused to picture. “I have no words,” is what you finally settled on, followed by an, “I’m sorry.”

“Nothing can make up for that,” he said quietly. “Not even Cazador’s death.” He paused. “Well, it would help a little, but the coward deserves a fate worse than death.”

“Can I hug you?” you blurted, unable to stop yourself.

Astarion blinked a few times, then sat up. “What?”

“I just… you’ve been through such hell and I want to hug you, but I don’t want to touch you without your permission.”

He looked you up and down and saw the sincerity evident on your face. “I… suppose.” He pulled his legs up from where they were still dangling above the ravine and turned to face you head on. 

“Thank you,” you said, still attempting to keep your tears at bay.

You leaned forward and weaved your arms beneath Astarion’s, hooking your arms up and placing your hands on his shoulder blades. You settled your face between his neck and shoulder and could feel that his arms were frozen rigidly in place in front of him. You took a shaky breath and stayed still, allowing Astarion to move at his own pace. 

His arms finally settled around you and he bent his head so his cheek rested against your hair. 

The two of you stayed like that for a while, relishing in the other’s closeness. You moved your hands back and forth across his back absently. When you caught yourself, you pulled back to look at him and asked, “Is it okay that I’m touching your back?”

Astarion chuckled softly. “Yes, my dear. It’s rather nice, actually.”

You smiled and nuzzled your nose into the crook of his neck. Seriously, did he always smell this good?

Despite the pleasant distraction, something was nagging at your thoughts.

“Can I ask you something?” you murmured into his skin.

Astarion sighed dramatically. “If it has anything to do with my fangs, I’ll rip your throat out.”

You snickered to yourself. “No, not another dumb joke, I promise.”

“Then by all means.”

You pulled back once more to look at him in the face. His eyes widened when he saw your nervous expression. You avoided holding his gaze, feeling a little small. 

“Do you… want to be with me?”

Astarion looked taken aback. “What?”

“I mean… well…” You were having trouble sorting through your thoughts. Who were you to make this moment about yourself when Astarion had just been so open with you? And why couldn’t you trust him in what he had told you last night? Still, you had to know. You’d made it clear how much you cared for him and how much sleeping with him had meant to you. 

Given his past experiences, it made sense why he’d sleep with you, but you wanted to hear him say it. If this was all some ploy to manipulate you into doing what he wanted, even without Cazador’s instruction, you needed to know now. 

“Was I… just another conquest?” you asked, your tears reemerging. “Because if that’s the case, then I think we should end whatever this is.”

Astarion’s face was now inches away from yours. He moved a hand from your back and shifted it up to wipe a wayward tear that had escaped. He said your name softly.

“No, my sweet,” his other hand started rubbing soothing circles into your back. He pulled back a little. “Well, yes.”

You scoffed, another tear rolling down your cheek. 

Astarion was quick to correct. “No, no! I mean, at first, yes, it was my plan to seduce you and sleep with you.”

You let out a small whimpering noise and he tried to catch your eye. You kept your gaze glued on something in the distance, unseeing.

Astarion cleared his throat. “You- You’re valuable; someone willing to feed me, someone who advocated for me to stay with you all, even though you knew vampires were dangerous, someone who would protect me in battle, even if it meant sacrificing something important to you.”

Try as he might to get your attention back on him, your face remained blank as you stared into the distance.

“I wanted your continued protection.” He shrugged. “Habits from two hundred years of charming people kicked in and I thought I could secure that with sex.”

That got you to look at him, a sour expression on your face. “Have you met me?”

Astarion chuckled. “Yes, I have. And that’s what threw me for such a loop.”

You humphed.

“When I realized you’d be more of a challenge, I modified my plan.”

“I don’t love the direction this is headed.”

“Stay with me, darling” he said, “I promise I’m going somewhere with this.”

You exhaled and nodded for him to continue. 

“I did want to give you a good first experience, that much was true, but I will admit that I was still planning on using you.”

You narrowed your eyes. “You realize how bad this sounds, right?”

“Will you-” he sighed. “Let me finish, damn you,” he brought his forehead to yours briefly, then pulled back. “So imagine how stupid I felt when I realized I genuinely felt something for you.”

That made you smile softly. 

He groaned. “And yes, it is because I find you to be… a lot of fun.” The last phrase sounded like it hurt coming out. 

Your soft smile transformed into one of smug satisfaction. “And when did you come to this conclusion?”

“Well first of all, look at you.” He smiled slyly and you playfully pushed his face away from yours, just as you had last night. After a moment, Astarion looked up, as if searching through his thoughts. “I suppose I’ve always found you to be amusing. You were so easy to fool in the beginning. I mean, the very first day we met, you thought I had one of those brain things cornered.”

“I had no reason not to believe you! And then you held a knife to my throat!” “Ah, memories,” he sighed wistfully. “But then we started traveling together, and I don’t think I’ve ever laughed more. Killing those goblins outside the Grove, fooling those trolls into working for us, taking out those Paladins of Tyr… you always had a sarcastic comment to contend with my sarcastic comments. Which is saying something.”

You snorted. “As if I wouldn’t have something to say.”

Astarion nodded. “You do talk a lot.” 

You chuckled softly, feeling better. Your arms were still wrapped around Astarion.

“It was when I kissed you.” His tone was thoughtful.

“Hmm?”

“When I really kissed you for the first time, there was something different about it.” His eyes flicked down to your lips momentarily. “Suddenly everything we’d been through came rushing back to my mind and there was this… pleasure I hadn’t felt. In an awfully long time.”

You smiled like a dope, bringing your forehead to his.

“I realized you weren’t going anywhere. And that you genuinely cared about what I thought and what I wanted.” He looked at you almost shyly. “No one in the past two hundred years has stayed.” Astarion pulled back and his inflection became flamboyant and playful: “Not that they had much of a choice, but it was a somewhat shocking revelation.” His tone then returned to one of sincerity: “And no one has cared for me as you have.”

You looked away, embarrassed by the kind words.“What can I say, I’m incredible.”

Astarion blew out a cool puff of air that tickled your face. “Annoyingly, you are.”

You looked back at him and smirked. “For me, it was when you asked me how I’d want to die.”

Astarion snorted. “Pardon?”

“When you asked me how I wanted to die on one of our first nights at camp. I genuinely had the thought, ‘Now here’s a guy who knows how to have a good time.’”

Astarion laughed brightly. You mirrored his grin.

“You said you wanted to be decapitated.” 

“How romantic of me,” he said, raising a seductive eyebrow. 

“Well it did spark the crush I’ve been harboring this whole time,” you felt your face heat up at the admission. “That, and your stupid beautiful face.”

Astarion sniffed mockingly. “Thank you, not enough people mention that.” Then he looked at you fondly. “But that long, eh? How adorable.” He rubbed his nose against yours teasingly. “And here you thought nothing would come of it.”

“Nothing usually does!” you exclaimed.

He laughed and leaned forward to kiss you once. “Not so loud.”

You lifted an eyebrow and gestured to the empty landscape around you. Astarion shrugged. You lowered your voice despite the lack of other people to bother.

“I am glad something came of it this time.” You settled your forehead onto his shoulder.

“As am I, my love,” he kissed your hair. “Though I have something else to admit.”

You pulled back and looked at him curiously.

Out of nowhere, he presented you with a knife.

“I did have a knife.”

You scoffed incredulously and whacked his arm. “I KNEW YOU HAD A KNIFE, YOU BASTARD!” You laughed loudly and pushed him backwards. 

He fell back onto his arms, laughing with you as you crawled on top and kissed him deeply. 

“Careful darling,” he murmured against your lips, “don’t move.”

You paused your movements, your lips still pressed firmly against his own. Astarion turned his head slightly to look over to his left at the treeline you’d emerged from not too long ago. You pressed a kiss to the side of his mouth and felt him grin. Then you felt his right arm come up and jerk slightly, followed by a “THUNK” sound off to your right. 

You waited a moment before you asked, “Can I move?” Your mouth was smushed against his face and your voice came out muffled.

He chuckled. “Yes, you can move now.” 

You sat up and looked to your right, the knife Astarion had pulled was now wedged deeply into the trunk of a nearby tree. You raised your eyebrows at him.

He stretched out like a cat in a sunbeam, his voice straining as he went. “Impressed?”

“Honestly? Yes.” You leaned back down and kissed him again. 

He hummed and his mouth moved against yours at a leisurely pace, his hands coming up to tangle in your hair. You kissed down his jaw and throat before coming to his collarbone and stopping.

“You’re sure you don’t want to fuck me again?” Your words came out a little shy and Astarion laughed. 

He twirled the ends of your hair around his finger. “Delicious as you were, my sweet, I think I’d prefer to take my time with you.” 

You pursed your lips, disappointed. 

“That’s not to say I don’t want to, darling, but…” His fingers stopped twirling your hair as he thought. “Like you said earlier, so much has changed in the last few hours. I’ve only just discovered that I can sleep with somebody because I actually want to.” His hand moved from your hair to your cheek. “I think I need some time to adjust to that.”

You nodded and bent to kiss him. “I’ll wait as long as you need me to.”

He smiled up at you. “Thank you.”

You spent a few moments just looking at him, admiring how his eyes sparkled in the sun like rubies. You sighed noticeably. 

“What is it, love?”

You shook your head. “It’s nothing.”

“Darling…” He raised his eyebrows at you. 

“No, it’s inappropriate right now.” You looked away.

You felt his hand in your hair, and his voice was conspiratory, “I love when you talk dirty.”

You sighed again and looked him in the eye. “One of these days, when you’re ready, I’m going to look into your gorgeous eyes as I make you come.”

Astarion sputtered out a surprised laugh. “Easy there, lover,” he gave you a sultry look, “I may just take you up on that.”

You sat up and spread your hands over his chest. “I want to make you feel good, too.”

He brought both hands up to his face and groaned loudly before dragging them back down his face and looking at you. “Come lay in the sun with me, will you?”

You pouted but rolled off of him and curled into his side. 

“There now,” he said, arching his chest upwards towards the sky where the sun had now risen for the day, “isn’t this nice?”

You inhaled deeply, taking in the scent of the trees and the sounds of the ravine below. You exhaled and closed your eyes, warmed by the sun and comforted by the presence of Astarion beside you. He himself had his eyes closed and looked peacefully content. You nuzzled further into his side, enjoying how his cool skin contrasted with the warmth coming from above.

Before you could even register that you were still tired from your early wakeup call this morning, you’d drifted back into a comfortable sleep.

~~~~~

You were awoken some time later by a lick to the face. 

You shut your eyes tighter and groaned. “Gross, Astarion, I’m trying to sleep.” You threw an arm over your eyes, the sun now directly overhead. 

“Did you find them, boy?” A voice shouted from the distance.

Your eyes shot open and found Scratch panting above you, wagging his tail excitedly. 

You sat up quickly and immediately leaned over to shake Astarion who appeared to be trancing soundly. 

“Astarion,” you shook him anxiously. 

He scowled, his eyes still closed. He groaned lowly.

“Astarion, my dear, my sweet, my beloved,” you shook him harder and his eyes opened immediately. He sat up, fast as lightning.

“What’s happening? Where’s my knife?” He looked around frantically until his eyes landed on you. “Ah,” he said, calming, “déjà vu.” 

“They’re coming,” you hissed.

“Who?” Astarion narrowed his eyes, thoughts still foggy from his trance. 

“No FUCKING way!” Came Karlach’s voice from the treeline. 

You looked over and found her with an elated grin on her face and her hands on her knees. She started laughing loudly and you hid your face in your hands. 

“You guys did NOT,” she wheezed. 

“Hello Karlach,” Astarion’s voice sounded nonchalant beside you. “What brings you out to ruin our beauty sleep?” 

“Did you find them?” Shadowheart soon emerged from the forest and stopped in her tracks. She surveyed the area and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Astarion, tell me you didn’t.”

“Did what, darling?” He sounded smug and you looked over at him. His expression matched his tone. “You’ll have to be more specific.” He rested his chin on your shoulder.

“I fucking knew this would happen,” Karlach said, coming down from her laughing fit. “Soldier’s had her eye on you for a while now, Fangs.”

“Karlach!” You whisper-shouted.

“Oh, I’m aware,” you felt Astarion turn his head to look at you. 

Suddenly Gale, Lae’zel, and Wyll joined the fray. Scratch ran to them and happily weaved between them as they emerged. 

“We heard a commotion, did you find them?” Gale halted when he saw you and Astarion sitting together on the ground, him shirtless, you wearing his shirt. “No,” he said, shaking his head.

“Yes,” Astarion said, tilting his head against yours. You gave him a dirty look. 

“Chk! Was that filthy nest of our blankets your doing?” Lae’zel asked, cradling her greatsword proudly. 

You groaned and hid your face in your hands again. 

“It would appear so,” Wyll confirmed awkwardly. 

“You vampires have a disgusting way of mating if that nest was any indication,” Lae’zel narrowed her eyes and lifted her nose in the air judgmentally. “Far too soft.”

Astarion scoffed and pulled back from you. “I’ll have you know that vampires mate in the most satisfying- well, we don’t mate, necessarily, we’re not dogs, but we, well at least I, am always an exemplary lover.”

Shadowheart ignored him and walked forward, crouching down and resting a hand on your shoulder. You looked at her. “Are you okay?”

“What?” you laughed in disbelief. “Yes, I’m fine.”

“He didn’t… coerce you into something, did he?”

“Excuse me?” Astarion sounded insulted. “I always ask permission first, darling.”

“Your charms can be quite overwhelming at times, Astarion,” Gale said. 

“And wouldn’t you like having my charms turned on you, wizard,” Astarion sneered. 

“Well, let’s not jump to any conclusions,” Wyll held up his hands, gesturing for the others to relax.

“Everyone!” You raised your voice. All eyes settled on you. “Nothing happened between us that I didn’t expressly and happily agree to.”

Karlach started chuckling again. “Good for you, Soldier.”

“Thank you, Karlach,” said Astarion. 

You narrowed your eyes at him. 

He shrugged. “What?”

You groaned and stood up, wiping grass and forest debris off your clothes. You adjusted Astarion’s shirt on your shoulders, making sure you weren’t showing off too much to your companions. 

“Is there a reason you all came out here? Or was it just to mortify me? Because mission accomplished!”

“It’s midday,” informed Wyll. “We grew worried when the two of you seemingly vanished and didn’t return.”

“Halsin and the tieflings are coming to camp tonight to celebrate our victory against the goblins,” Shadowheart crossed her arms. 

“Yes, and it wouldn’t be a great look if our leader and the gangly one were missing,” Gale said.

“Gangly?!” Astarion exclaimed, very clearly not gangly. 

“You’re- okay, well, I hadn’t seen you shirtless before now,” Gale amended. 

“Like what you see?” Astarion teased. 

“Astarion,” you scolded. 

He sighed and got up, wrapping an arm around you and resting a hand on your hip. 

You went red as you watched your companions track his hand. 

“Listen, people,” Astarion said, sounding serious. 

You saw your companions’ eyes shift to the vampire. 

“Don’t give her a hard time. This was my doing.” Shadowheart was about to say something but Astarion raised his voice a bit. “While yes, she gave permission in everything that we did, this wouldn’t have happened if I hadn’t suggested it in the first place.”

“I could have suggested something much better, surely,” Lae’zel huffed.

“I mean, did you-?” Karlach thrust her hips in the air with her fists at her sides.

“Oh my gods,” you groaned.

“I don’t kiss and tell, darling,” Astarion said, squeezing your hip slightly. 

Karlach smirked smugly and winked at you both. 

You shook your head and looked up, silently begging any god that was listening to kill you and to do it quickly. 

“We should get back to camp,” Wyll suggested diplomatically. “Let these two collect themselves.” 

“So what does this mean?” Shadowheart asked, ignoring Wyll. 

“Shadowheart,” Wyll warned but she waved him off.

“What do you mean?” You asked.

“Are you only going to sleep with the pathetic vampire moving forward?” Lae’zel stated bluntly.

You and Astarion looked at each other. You saw the slightest flash of uncertainty in his eyes and smiled. “If he’ll let me,” you said. 

A small smile appeared on his face in return.

Lae’zel groaned. “K'chakhi. Your loss.” She turned and walked back into the forest, slinging her greatsword over her back.

You bit your lip, feeling guilty about Lae’zel’s feelings, but Karlach soon slid into your vision. “Congrats, you crazy kids,” she laughed and pretended to punch your arm, then followed on Lae’zel’s heels, Scratch bounding close behind her.

Gale walked over, his face stoic. He stood in front of Astarion and held out his hand. 

Astarion scowled. “What is this, do you want some sort of handout?” 

“I want to shake your hand, you buffoon,” Gale sounded frustrated. 

“Gale…” you said sorrowfully. 

“No no, think nothing of it,” he waved you off. “The right man won out in the end.”

Astarion took his hand and shook it. “Better luck next time,” he jeered. 

“Astarion,” you scolded again. “You both know I’m not something to win, right?”

“Of course you’re not,” Gale nodded. “Apologies, I misspoke. I’ll see you both at camp. Lunch is bread and cheese to save room for tonight’s festivities.” He stiffly turned and walked back towards the trees. Wyll gave him a sympathetic look, then caught your eye. He nodded somewhat sadly and followed after Gale. 

“Well that certainly doesn’t feel good,” you said, holding a hand to your chest and breathing deeply.

“Not quite finished yet, love,” Astarion nodded over towards Shadowheart who lingered nearby. 

She approached slowly, holding her hands behind her back. Astarion released your hip and moved away, sensing what Shadowheart aimed to do. You looked at him curiously, but your attention was drawn back to Shadowheart as she threw her arms around your neck. 

“You’re happy?” She asked softly.

“Shadowheart…” you smiled into her hair. “Yes, I’m happy. Thank you.”

She pulled back to look at you in the eyes, double checking your expression. When she saw that you were genuine, she nodded. She cleared her throat and looked over at Astarion. 

She pointed an accusatory finger at him. “Hurt her, and you will never know a happy day again.”

Astarion held up his hands defensively. “I won’t-”

“You have never known the pain of Lady Shar’s wrath, and you’d be smart to keep it that way, so help me gods, Astarion.”

“I got it,” he said flatly. 

“Our Lady of Loss would not hesitate to strike you where you stand-”

“I think he gets it,” you said, placing a hand on her shoulder. “Thank you, Shadowheart.”

Shadowheart narrowed her eyes at Astarion before she looked back at you. “I’ll see you at camp. Don’t dally.” She looked pointedly at Astarion who shrugged helplessly. 

When she headed back into the forest, you and Astarion were finally alone. 

You let out a heavy sigh.

“That was a lot,” Astarion joined you at your side.

“Wait, did you know those people?” you smirked at him.

“Vaguely,” he smirked back and caught you in a kiss. “At least I don’t have to hold back from doing that at camp now.” He held you close in his arms.

You sighed again and laid your head on his shoulder. “You were right. I didn’t realize so many of them felt something for me.”

“That seems to be because you block out the advances of others.”

You shoved him playfully. “How dare you turn my pitiful backstory against me.”

He smiled and held out his hand. “Come on, let’s go dismantle that ‘disgusting’ nest.” He did his best to impersonate Lae’zel on “disgusting.” 

It made you laugh. “Okay.”

You took his hand and let him lead you through the trees back to the blankets and pillows that you’d spent the night on. 

When you arrived, you picked up your shirt and bra, feeling mild embarrassment that the others had probably seen them and drawn (correct) conclusions. You removed Astarion’s shirt and threw it back at him, hitting him in the face and quickly covered your chest with your forearm. 

Astarion laughed as his shirt fell into his awaiting hands. “Darling, you don’t have to hide from me,” he narrowed his eyes seductively. “I’ve already seen it all.” He tossed the shirt aside and made his way over to you.

“Feels different in the light of day,” you admitted self-consciously. “Worse, I guess.”

“Now, now,” he said, gently pulling your arm away from your chest, “let me see you in the daylight.” You allowed him to move your arm but didn’t look at him. “Lovely,” he breathed, and kissed you hard. 

You inhaled in surprise, but immediately gave in and slipped your tongue into his mouth and your arms over his shoulders. His hand came up and began massaging your left breast, his icy touch sending a shock wave through you and making you moan. 

Instantly, you pulled away and took a step back. “Careful,” you said as Astarion stared at you wide-eyed, his hand frozen in the air where he’d been palming your breast, “I thought you wanted to take things slow?”

He made a sound somewhere between a groan and a dry heave. “Stop being so nice to me,” he avoided your gaze. “It makes me want to… be nice back.”

“Gods forbid,” you laughed, and bent to pick up your bra which had fallen back amongst the pillows. 

All of a sudden, you found yourself face down in the blankets, the wind knocked out of you and Astarion’s body weight pressed firmly on top of you.

“Astarion,” you wheezed, “what are you doing?”

His voice was sultry in your ear, “If you’ll remember, I said I wanted to take my time with you.”

Sexy as that was, you couldn’t breathe. You reached behind yourself and smacked Astarion’s back with your palm. “Living creatures need to breathe, idiot!”

“Oh,” he realized his error and rolled off of you. You had no time to adjust yourself before he flipped you over and hovered above you on his hands and knees. 

You blew some hair out of your face, irritated. “Did you just tackle me like I was some sort of prey?”

“My dear, I would never,” he bowed his head and kissed your neck.

“And yet I find myself on the ground, even though I didn’t put myself here,” you tangled your hands in his hair, your voice wobbly. 

“You’ve always been rather clumsy,” he murmured teasingly. 

You took a deep breath and pushed him away. His lips were still puckered, making you giggle. “Shadowheart told us not to dally,” you reminded him. “And she threatened to kill you, what? Three times?”

“You forget that I’m already dead,” he smiled. “What’s another little death?” He raised his eyebrows suggestively.

You snorted. “Bad.”

“I thought that was rather clever, actually.”

You rolled your eyes affectionately. “We should really head back.”

Astarion whined and hung his head. “Let me have you again, woman!”

“But you said-”

“I know what I said!” He lifted his head and looked you in the eye. “And while I appreciate your concern, right now, I very much want to be inside of you again.”

You smiled cautiously. “Are you sure?”

He rolled his eyes and kissed you, lowering his body to roll his hips against yours and making his erection very obviously. You jolted at the unexpected sensation and he pulled back.

“Unless this is too much for you,” he searched your face for hesitancy. “You’re probably still sore and we don’t have to rush anything-”

You gripped the back of his head and tightened your fist into his curls. “Please,” you whispered, “fuck me again.”

A wicked grin bloomed on Astarion’s face and he kissed you passionately, rolling his hips against yours for friction. You moaned into his mouth, but he broke the kiss after only a few moments. “Like I said, love, I want to take my time with you.”

He rose up onto his knees and began untying the laces of your pants. You watched him intently and bit your lip as he removed them fully from your legs. He made quick work of his own and crawled back on top of you. His thumb hooked under your panties and his eyes met yours. You nodded and he pulled them down gently and discarded them close by. He then laid beside you, his eyes heavy with lust.

“Come here, precious thing,” he purred and you inched yourself closer to him. “Turn around,” he instructed. You gave him a confused half smile but did what he asked. He reached forward and pulled your hips back, causing you to feel his still-clothed cock against your ass.

“What are you doing?” you asked nervously. 

Astarion chuckled. “Not that, fear not.” He kissed your shoulder as he slid his left arm under you and settled his hand on your lower stomach. A chill ran through you as he nuzzled his head onto your shoulder. “Fair warning,” you could hear the mischief in his voice as his right hand made itself known in front of your face. He wiggled his fingers in a delicate wave, then brought it down between your thighs. 

A gasp escaped your throat when you felt his fingers swipe through your folds.

Astarion tilted his head and kissed your throat. “So wet already, darling.”

“You’re handsome,” you said by way of explanation.

He hummed against your shoulder and began to rub your clit. A shuddering breath left your mouth and your eyes fluttered shut. Astarion paused for a moment to lift your leg and hike it back over his. “This will feel good,” he said against your skin and dragged his fingers through your folds again before inserting a digit into your cunt. 

You threw your head back in surprised pleasure, which made Astarion turn and nip at your ear. He began pumping and curling his finger slowly inside of you. Your breath caught when his thumb resumed its spot on your clit and whined when his finger inside of you hit a particularly sensitive spot. He adjusted his angle to hit it repeatedly. 

“Astarion,” you moaned, your head clouded with nothing but ecstasy. 

“Yes, my sweet, you’re gripping me so tight,” his voice was sensual in your ear. “Do you think you can take a little more?”

You nodded, your eyes shut tight. 

“Words, darling.”

“Another…” you said breathily.

“Another what?”

Your voice was sing-songy. “Astarion, if you don’t put another finger in me right now, I’m leaving you.”

He laughed loudly before moving his mouth close to your ear again. “You like me too much.” Then he leaned up a little to catch your eye, his finger still pumping between your thighs. “Right?”

You smiled sympathetically, seeing your words had spooked him a little. You reached a hand up to cup his cheek. “I’m not going anywhere,” you clarified. “But I might kill you.”

“Got it,” Astarion dragged his index finger through your folds, then carefully added it to your cunt alongside his middle finger. 

You exhaled, moving your hand down from his cheek to his hand resting on your stomach. You laced your fingers together and squeezed when he hit a particularly good spot, getting you to moan out an, “Oh, gods.”

“Like that?” He asked cockily, reaching and curling to hit the spot again. 

“Yes, my love,” you sighed, grinning upwards with your eyes closed. 

Behind you, you felt Astarion’s cock twitch.

Your eyes opened and you looked back at him. 

He smiled back at you sheepishly. “It does that sometimes, darling. When something is particularly arousing.”

Your breaths were coming out short and keeping in time with the pumping of his fingers. “Was it… ‘my love?’”

Astarion let out a low moan and hid his face in your shoulder before reemerging and nodding. “Coming from you while you’re in the throes of passion with me is really… something.”

You laughed between whimpers. “My… loooooove,” you sang, squeezing his hand again. “Your fingers feel heavenly, my looooove.”

“Fuck this,” Astarion said, pulling his fingers out of you unceremoniously and curling you forward with his body so he could shimmy out of his underwear. 

“What are you doing,” you winced and whined childishly, “I was so close!”

“Unfortunately, darling, if I’m not inside you within a matter of seconds, I’m going to lose it completely.”

“Wouldn’t want that,” you said, half dazed and still coming down from your almost climax. 

You felt his hand bump your ass as he pumped his cock and you instantly went stiff. “You’re not going to…?”

Astarion let out a breathy laugh. “Oh, my sweet, you’re not nearly ready for something like that yet.”

A relieved sigh escaped you. 

“We could always work our way up-”

“No, that’s okay,” you said quickly. 

“There’s nothing wrong with-”

“No, of course not-”

“But we can-”

“Let’s not talk about this now,” you patted Astarion’s cheek.

“Understood,” he nodded and resumed pumping his cock. “Hook your leg back over mine, darling.” When you followed his instruction, he kissed your shoulder once more. You felt the head of his cock glide through your folds until it prodded at your entrance and you let out a shaky exhale. “Don’t be scared,” he muttered, squeezing your hand. “Are you ready?”

You inhaled. “Yes.”

Just as he had last night, Astarion was slow to enter you. This time you heard him whimpering with his mouth so close to your ear. 

“Fuck,” he murmured, dragging his fangs from your shoulder to your neck, “still so tight.”

“Obviously,” you said, squeezing your eyes shut, but not feeling nearly as uncomfortable as you had the first time he’d entered you. You let out a satisfied exhale when his hips bumped your ass. 

“Let me know what I can move,” Astarion said against your skin, his words barely recognizable. 

“You can move,” you said almost immediately, reaching a hand up behind you and twisting it into Astarion’s hair. You moved it over a little to play with the tip of his ear.

He let out a loud groan and snapped his hips forward, probably with more force than he meant to. “Apologies,” he whispered, “that felt heavenly.”

“Keep going, my love,” you encouraged and he caught your eye with a seductive smile. 

He continued to pump his cock into your dripping hole and brought his right hand down to your clit. He licked a stripe from your neck up to your ear. “You know, I really did intend to take my time with you just now,” he spoke lowly from the back of his throat. As if to illustrate his point, he slowed his hips to take long, languid strokes out, and then moved back into you at an equally slow pace. His thumb on your clit slowed as he disconnected his left hand from yours and brought it up to fondle your breast. He kissed up your shoulder to your neck sloppily and sucked on the fading bite marks from last night. 

You moaned loudly, hooking your foot around his calf and tightening your fist in his hair. “We’d really be dallying, then,” you commented.

He made a frustrated noise. “Don’t even allude to the cleric right now,” he pulled away from your neck. “Unless it’s to tell me I’m a much better lover than her.” He snapped his hips into you, hard. 

“I don’t have much of a reference, genius,” you responded breathlessly. 

“Right,” he said, and picked up speed at your clit. His mouth returned to sucking on your throat. 

“Oohhh,” you sighed. You let out a gasp when Astarion’s left hand pinched your nipple.

“You feel wonderful, my darling,” spit connected him to your neck.

“So do you,” you brought your hand up to cover Astarion’s that was kneading your breast. “You can bite me, if you want.”

He groaned loudly and bumped his nose against your jaw. “Well,” he said between thrusts, “if you insist.” 

He kissed your throat before biting down, his hips instantly picking up speed. 

The ice that shot into your veins was a shock as always, but melted into a fuzzy pleasure that had your eyes drooping in ecstasy. 

Astarion took long pulls of your blood as he continued thrusting, circling your clit, and needing your breast. How he was keeping track of everything at once was beyond you in this pleasant, foggy state. 

“Darling,” he pulled away suddenly, swallowing loudly and seemingly out of breath. “May I taste you as you come?”

Your tongue lolled to the side, but his voice snapped you out of it. You nodded up at him. “Yes, please.”

“What do you need?” He licked the wounds on your neck. 

“As much as I’m enjoying you taking your time,” you said, “harder and faster.”

“Easy,” a cocky grin graced his face as a drop of your blood dripped down his chin. 

His hips picked up a brutal pace that nearly had you reaching your peak, and he pressed further onto your clit, his tight circles picking up speed as well. 

“Oh, Astarion,” you moaned loudly, reaching back again to grip his hair.

“Come for me, dearest,” he spoke softly against your throat, but loud enough that you could hear, “I want to hear you sing again. I want to taste how sweet your blood is when I make you cum on my cock.” He continued leaving sloppy kisses against your neck.

“I’m close,” you confirmed, your eyes shut tight and your body tensing. 

“Go ahead, love, I’ve got you,” his hard thrusts were becoming uneven, but ever the professional, his voice remained mostly even. “You’re so tight and warm, thank you for letting me taste you.” He kissed your mouth. “Darling.” Another kiss. “Beloved.” One more. “Mine.”

You cried out as you fell over the edge, your cunt squeezing his cock repeatedly, only to cry out again as you felt Astarion’s fangs enter your neck once more. 

“Astarion!” You shouted, squeezing his hand and pulling his hair and wrapping your shaking leg around his. Almost simultaneously, you felt Astarion spill inside you as he moaned your name loudly into your neck, his hips pulsing clumsily against you. 

The sensation of him drawing your blood was still pleasantly fuzzy, but you could feel yourself becoming light headed. You tapped his arm twice, your signal for him to stop, and he pulled away, leaning his forehead against your temple and breathing heavily. 

“Still cumming,” he groaned and clenched his teeth, his hips faltering in their rhythm. 

After another moment, his body finally relaxed and he pulled you closer into his chest, catching his breath. “That was… amazing,” he sighed happily, leaning forward to lick the remaining blood from your neck. “If I knew blood could taste that good-” His voice trailed off. “Well, I’m sure I’d do something about it if I could.” He seemed pleased with his own answer and hummed contentedly behind you.

“I’m glad it was to your liking,” you said, looking back at him with a smile. He bent forward and kissed you happily. “I’m like a fine vintage,” you teased.

Astarion pursed his lips. “You’re far from vintage, darling, you’ll have to work on your wine related japes.” 

You laughed and a comfortable silence fell between you. Astarion rested both of his hands on your stomach. Which growled suddenly.

“What’s that like?” He teased, licking a wayward drop of blood from the side of his mouth. 

Your body tensed. “Oh gods, bread and cheese!”

Astarion blinked at you. “Are those some sort of new deities I’m not aware of, or-?”

“No, that’s what Gale said we’re having for lunch.”

“And that’s important because-?”

“Because we DALLIED and there’s a PARTY tonight and now Shadowheart is going to KILL us.”

“I see.” Astarion remained still, fixed in place. Then suddenly he was pulling out of you at a breakneck speed and reaching for his clothes. 

You winced a little at the sensation but scrambled for your own clothes, wiping yourself down with the cloth Astarion provided again and got dressed in what was probably record time. 

Incredibly, you both looked presentable. 

“We do make a gorgeous pair,” Astarion cocked his hip and smirked at you, going in for a kiss.

You swatted him away. “Enough flirting, loverboy, we can talk about us later!” You started reaching for blankets and pillows. 

“Us,” Astarion stood on the sidelines, testing out the word on his tongue. “I do so like the sound of that.”

“Help me, would you?” You threw a pile of blankets at him, hitting him in the face and blowing his hair back. 

He groaned. “It should be a crime to rush after you’ve just made love to the most amazing woman.” He came up behind you and smacked your butt teasingly. 

You stood up straight and tried to look angry. “We are going to die if we don’t head back right now.” Astarion wasn’t buying your anger, so you turned bashful. “You made loooove to me?” You clasped your hands together by your face. “You think I’m amaaaazing?” You twirled some of your hair for good measure.

Astarion sighed. “Be serious, woman, we’re going to die!” His voice was exasperated but he smirked at you. He bent to pick up more blankets and pillows and you did the same until you both had piles you could barely see over and nothing was left behind.

“Ugh, I’m going to have to do so much laundry,” you muttered. “Seriously, how did you manage bringing all this out here?”

“Well first, everything was folded neatly.”

“We don’t have time.”

“And second, multiple trips, darling.”

“We can’t afford to leave camp EVER again.”

Try as you might to rush back to camp, you still had to maneuver through a forest and be careful where you stepped. The pair of you moved as quickly as you could, which wasn’t as fast as was probably necessary to avoid Shadowheart’s ire. 

“Soooo…” You broke the silence after a few moments. 

“Gods,” Astarion rolled his eyes, “what?”

“‘My love,’ huh?” You waggled your eyebrows at him.

“What about it?”

“You liiiiiiked it,” you teased. 

“I-” You could see that he thought about arguing but decided not to. “I’m not used to the pet names turned on me. It’s… nice.”

“You’re cute,” you said, looking over at him affectionately and nearly tripping over a tree root as a result.

Astarion snickered, then made his face serious. “I’m the furthest thing from cute. I’m a horrifying monster.” He lowered his voice as if that would back him up.

“Yeah, but you like being mushy.” 

“I do not.”

“You do!” You moved closer to him and bumped his hip with your own. “You were so sweet to me yesterday. And just now.” 

“It’s different with you,” he said quietly.

“Oh?” You raised your eyebrows.

“It’s… um… This is stupid, I hate it.” He tried to walk ahead of you but you caught up easily.

“No, no! Please.” You gave him a reassuring look. “I, of all people, will not judge you.”

He sighed. “It’s just… nice to feel like something is mine.” He was quick to correct, “Not that I own you but… I don’t know. You’re not a victim. Not a target. Not just… one night it’s better to forget. You’re something entirely new.”

You smiled over at him. “I like you too, weirdo.”

Astarion humphed. “Whatever.” He moved closer and bumped your hip with his own. The two of you shared a fond look, then turned back to the path ahead.

If Shadowheart was going to kill you, at least you’d die together. 

You both quickened your pace to try and avoid that fate, but it was a lovely thought.

Soon, you began to make out the bright colors of your tents through the trees and the sound of your companions chatting by the fire. 

You turned to Astarion. “See you on the other side.”

He nodded, determined. “It’s been a pleasure servicing you, darling.”

“I hope she kills you first.”

You shared a laugh before you took a calming breath. 

And stepped into camp. 

[ventismacchiato]

mr. oblivious

The entire staff at the new school you work at consistently attempt at getting you and another rather aloof teacher, Kuni, together after witnessing you interact quite often. The catch is that you both are married, and none of the staff have figured it out, yet.

scaramouche x g!n reader

established relationship, married, modern teacher au

2.7k words

a/n: sorry if it clogs up ur feed 😭 everytime i do the keep reading thing it crashes for me so, transferred from ao3 so if there’s any weird typos lmk

It took about three weeks at your new job for you to notice something was going on with your co-workers, and your students as well to top it off. It was as if they were all in on some inside joke you weren’t a part of, or perhaps the center of it. But that might just be your own insecurities about being the newest teacher at this school.

You had recently been laid off as a literature teacher after working at the same high school for a few years due to lack of budget to support the creative arts.

So, instead of educating high schoolers, you deemed it would be much better to teach a group of younger kids, much easier and stress free. After a couple of weeks you had gotten a job as the Art teacher at the very school your husband worked at thanks to his recommendation. Everyone there was very accepting of you and you felt right at home, for a while at least.

It was much different then being a literature professor for older kids, now you got to do finger painting for a living. And even though your English degree was collecting dust, (you shed a tear at this every night), you were actually enjoying your time teaching for once. Little children were much more bearable than high schoolers. There were no love triangles you had to deal with, kids giving handjobs under the desks, or getting paper planes thrown at you. The most drama that ever happened in your elementary classes was when Timmie wouldn’t share the red crayons with anyone.

Well, you were enjoying it. Past tense.

Ever since you ended up catching teachers and students halting their whispers when you walked by you’ve been rather uneasy.

You brought it up to Kuni during dinner one night and the other male merely shrugged, but that one was on you though. Kuni didn’t interact with any of his co-workers unless he absolutely had to. It was a surprise he was a favorite teacher among the students, unbeknownst to you it was because the children found the male handsome and his teaching style atrocious.

You were surprised to learn none of your co-workers had even held a coherent conversation with Kuni, despite him working there for much of his career. So when Venti, one of the school’s music teachers, let out a gasp at seeing Kuni sitting beside you in the staff room, he was taken aback. Kuni never went out of his way to make new friends, it seems he was content with the little to no socializing he did in college and called it a day.

“So, what’s your secret?” Venti sang, sidling up next to you as he poured himself a cup of coffee, “How’d you get the ever so stoic Kuni to talk to you for longer than a minute?”

“What are you on about?” you chuckled, taking a tentative sip of the hot beverage, you didn’t want to burn your tongue again, it had ruined your entire week last time, “I just talk?”

Venti and you quickly clicked upon your moving careers, there was something calming about the constant chitter chatter that left his mouth. Although, it was also a little annoying at times. Like right now.

“Last time I did that he just glared at me,” Venti dramatically sighed, “Maybe he has his eyes on you.”

“Ooh, are we talking about KuniYn?” Lisa grinned, the actual English teacher, walking into the staff room.

“What the hell is KuniYn?” you questioned, growing uncomfortable, why was everyone obsessing over you and Kuni? Was this their way of welcoming you?

“I’m going to exit this conversation now,” you mumbled, turning around when you bumped into the other half of said conversation.

And to your horror, a little splash of his coffee landed on the other male.

A collective gasp was heard from the staff room, preparing themselves for the ever so aloof male to lash out. Last time Bennett spilled his drink on Kuni the dark-haired male had the entire staff shaking in their seats.

“Careful,” Kuni mumbled, catching his arm on your shoulder to steady you before making his way past you to make himself a cup of coffee, not batting an eye as he grabbed a napkin and dabbed at it to lessen the soak.

“Fuck, sorry,” you immediately apologized, grabbing the napkin from Kuni and placing your mug down, “Do you want my jacket?”

“It’s fine,” Kuni assured, picking up your mug and handing it back to you before grabbing his own mug that was now full and leaving the room, but not before patting your waist fondly on his way out.

You made sure to pointedly ignore Venti and Lisa’s loud snickers as you hurriedly left the room.

______ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

Everyone’s intentions became clear when you overheard your own students conversing about you. The utter betrayal.

You were running a little late to your class that afternoon after a lively student had spilled glitter on you earlier that morning, you spent a good five minutes scrubbing it off your hands in the staff bathroom before making your way back to class. You had left your classroom door ajar in a hurry to leave, which made it easy for you to eavesdrop on your students when you heard Kuni’s name spoken for the nth time that day.

“I saw them eating lunch in Sir Kuni’s room the other day when I went to get my backpack!” Luo insisted, a lollipop hanging halfway out of her mouth as the group that had gathered around her table eagerly nodded along to her story, “I think they like-like each other!”

“Like-like?” Qiqi drawled out, tapping her chin, “That’s very serious.“

“We should make them be a couple!” Klee giggled, clapping her hands, “Teacher Y/n is very nice! Mister Kuni is too strict for them but it’s okay.”

So this was what your coworkers were giggling about, they thought that you and Kuni were pining for each other. Which wasn’t necessarily untrue, but had Kuni really not mentioned being married even once?

Truth be told, you never wore your ring to school, you didn’t want any paint or glitter to get stuck between the diamonds and have to pay to get it cleaned, but did Kuni really leave his ring at home too? Seems even Mathematics teachers were prone to disasters via children.

“Alright, back to your respected tables, please,” you greeted as you made your way back into class, ignoring the exuberant glances the children gave you. “Valentines is coming up this week, how about we make little cards for your friends?”

“Or boyfriends,” Klee giggled behind her hands as the class shrieked in laughter. You merely patted her on the head and sighed. Today was going to be quite the long day.

______ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

“—I say we send Y/n a Valentine in Kuni’s name, we all know he won’t do it himself!” Venti rebuked, pointing an accusatory finger at Hutao.

“Shouldn’t we give him the benefit of the doubt!” Hutao huffed in response, “They’re clearly into one another.”

“You got it all wrong, Y/n will make the first move and we should allow them to do so,” Xingqiu, the school’s librarian, drawled, tapping his finger on his chin. “I believe they will ask Kuni out on Valentine’s!”

“Are you guys chatting about me again?” you deadpanned, already backing out of the room, but your back ran into something, or rather someone.

“Clumsy as always,” Kuni murmured, placing a hand on your waist and gently pushing you out of the way, “What are you idiots looking at?” he questioned, glaring at Venti who was stifling a laugh.

“You never come in here, I should be interrogating you!” Xiangling defended, hands on her hips.

“Lunch,” Kuni dryly stated, reverting back to his one word answers, and handed a bag to you, “You said you were craving Chinese earlier.”

The familiar smell of fried rice wafted through the room as you peered inside the bag, “You remembered? Thank you.”

Kuni hummed, turning to leave the staff room and hermit himself in his classroom once again.

The moment he left all hell broke loose.

“SEE! I knew Kuni would make a move!”

“But it’s not Valentine’s yet! Y/n still has a chance!"

“We should just lock them up at this rate, this is getting frustrating.”

You clutched the bag tightly and walked out the room, ignoring the shouts questioning the nature of you and Kuni’s relationship that your coworkers shot behind you.

______ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

“Kuni?” you called out, knocking on the door as you opened it, which took away the action’s purpose but you were impatient.

Said male looked up from where he was typing and gave you a glance before averting his eyes back, humming to show he was listening.

“Have you eaten yet?” you asked, shutting the door behind you as you pulled up one of the students’ chairs to sit beside Kuni, leaning back into it as Kuni gestured to his half finished take out box.

“Everyone thinks you and I have a crush on each other,” you blurted, leaning your chin on your palm as you watched Kuni work, watching how his nimble fingers came to a stop at your words.

“A crush?” Kuni repeated, turning to face you, “What? That’s childish.”

“They don’t know we’re married!” you huffed, “Did you not tell them? Where’s your ring?”

“It never came up,” Kuni mused, “Last time I wore my ring I took it off to help a teacher out and when I came back the brats were tossing it, so I started leaving it at home.”

“Oh, it seems they’ve never seen us with our rings,” you frowned, causing Kuni to spin on his chair to face you, an amused smile on his face.

“They just can’t believe I managed to make you mine,” Kuni shrugged, chuckling at the immediate shove you sent to his shoulder.

“Stop trying to be corny,” you smiled, reaching out to tug on his dress shirt and yank him closer.

Without a second of hesitation, your guys’ lips interlocked as if it were second nature. The familiarity behind Kuni’s every touch was still as refreshing as it was years ago when you both first met.

The moment was interrupted with a gasp from afar, and both of you pulled apart to see who had walked in on them, exhaling a sigh of relief to see it wasn’t one of the students. But perhaps this was worse.

Kazuha was staring with a flushed face before he realized he had come over for a specific reason and walked up to Kuni’s desk, dropping a file onto it which led Kuni to groan and sadly flip through it.

“So how long have you two been together?” Kazuha drawled, leaning forward as Kuni shot him a glare. Despite being one of the few people Kuni actually sort of talked to, it seems even Kazuha hadn’t known of their relationship status.

“Since graduating college, married now,” you answered, earning a smile from Kazuha as he nodded, turning to make his leave.

“I’m so winning this bet–”

“What bet? KAZUHA GET BACK HERE! WHAT BET?!”

______ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

Valentine’s day had finally decided to make an appearance, and the school would not let it pass by without a proper send off. The hallways were adorned with pink ribbons and little drawings the kids made, along with the occasional love is love poster and rainbow flag. There were streamers hanging on every doorway, and you couldn’t count how many kids you had to help untangle themselves after getting stuck.

At least it looked pretty.

“I tried to get them to sing Bad Romance, can you believe they’ve never heard of it?”

“Venti, they are children,” Kazuha mused, shaking his head as he unwrapped one of the many chocolates they had lying around for Valentines.

“As their other music teacher you should add it into the curriculum,” Venti huffed, perking up as you entered the room, “There they are!”

“Me?” you repeated, about to take a seat next to them when Xingqiu pointed to the large basket of flowers sitting on the table, “Looks like someone has an admirer,” you added, peering into the basket.

“It arrived this morning, the card says it’s addressed to you? But there’s no sender,” Xingqiu mused.

“Coward,” Lisa reprimanded, “How will I get my daily dose of drama if I don’t know who it’s from?”

“I can infer,” you laughed, tugging on the card, “Probably my husband,” you thought aloud as you read the writing, a smile growing on your face. You were so absorbed in the note that you didn’t notice the staff room grow quiet.

“Hold up, you’re married?!” Venti shrieked, getting up from his seat, “No way.”

“Is that unbelievable?” you frowned, holding up your left hand, “Been married for six years now.”

“Oh my god, we’ve been trying to set you up this entire time!” Xiangling cried out, covering her mouth, “This is so embarrassing! I didn’t know you had someone at home!”

“I’m surprised you guys didn’t know,” you sheepishly laughed, twirling one of the flowers from the basket between your fingers, “You guys have met him before.”

Kazuha snickered behind his chocolate bar as the other staff looked at him.

“So THAT’s why you made a bet saying Y/n married to someone, I thought you just had a gambling addiction,” Xiangling scoffed, hitting Kazuha on the shoulder as he cackled.

“Pay up,” Kazuha grinned as you shook your head.

“Can’t believe you all made a bet and tried to set me up,” you mumbled.

“Yikes, I told Kuni I would get him a date tonight with you offhandedly,” Lisa admitted, looking ashamed as the door to the staff door opened.

Kuni stepped in, but instead of letting him pass by unnoticed as usual you tugged on his sleeve, shooting him a soft smile.

“Thank you for the basket, Kuni,” you thanked, caressing the other male’s arm to show your affection. Neither of you were big on pda, it was a lot for you both to even hug in public. Mostly due to Kuni’s awkwardness with it, but he made up for it by showing affection behind closed doors.

Kuni merely hummed, awkwardly shuffling his feet, you felt a little bad about putting him on the spot but you wanted to show off your husband for once!

“Pause,” Venti stated, pointing between the two of them, “No fucking way.”

“I just lost so much money,” Lisa groaned, sucking her teeth and already pulling out her wallet as Kazuha gleefully counted his bills.

“I’m still processing,” Xingqiu murmured, staring between the two of them, “What, when, and where?”

“I don’t know what you mean by what, we started dating in senior year of highschool, and got married in the town Kuni grew up,” you answered, firmly grasping Kuni’s arm so as to not let him escape. He was already trying to run off.

“I owe Kazuha money?” Albedo questioned as he overheard the conversation walking into the staff room, “No way was his hypothesis correct.”

“Suck my dick,” Kazuha grinned, opening his palm as Albedo sighed and slapped a twenty on it, rolling his eyes as the other male gloated.

“You guys are so fucking annoying,” Kuni complained, but his threat didn’t look at all intimidating as you was pinching his cheek, “Do you really have nothing else to do then try to set me up? No wonder the education system is shit.”

“I’m surprised you even managed to score someone,” Venti giggled, dodging the box of candy Kuni picked up and tossed at him.

“I still have more game than all of you, where’s your partner?” Kuni countered.

“The audacity,” Albedo murmured as Venti huffed in response, the staff room bursting into laughter.

“Guess we need a new project,” Venti grieved, scanning the room till his eyes landed upon Kazuha, “I guess I’ll set you up with someone.”

“You’re gonna what?!” Kazuha exclaimed, his face aghast as the staff immediately started listing off potential candidates

You laughed as you watched Kazuha practically run away from Venti, who was interrogating him on which teachers he found the most attractive.

Your new co-workers were a bit crazy, but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

[ddejavvu]

Love to Lie - Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x Reader (Part 3) / Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 4 (Final Part)

Summary: Your worst fear is recognized when Bradley’s jet goes down with him in it. You’re not sure why you’re still his emergency contact, you’d broken up two weeks ago, but when you rush into the hospital room, you discover that you have a chance to fix the mistake you’d been cursing yourself for. The only problem is, you have to lie to Bradley, and you discover that you love doing it if it means you get to be with him again.

Contents/Warnings: fem!reader, Mitchell!reader, angst, angst with a fluffy/happy ending, amnesia trope, hospitals and their subsequent medical details, memory loss, goose and carole are still alive because i say so

WC: 16.1K (again...? somehow?) / navigation / inbox

A/N: ...surpriiiise! this is not the end 😭 i'm sorry to deviate from my original plan, but life got in the way a lot, so now there will be four parts to this series, this is the second-to-last. I'm sorry to keep you waiting, it just didn't work out the way I wanted it to. The real final part to this series will be posted one week from today. I hope you all understand, and I hope you enjoy this part and all of the drama that comes with it!

feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!

Your eyes blink open far too early. It’s due to your side, there’s a draft that’s worked its way over your skin and raised tiny goosebumps over your thigh. You’ve woken up differently than how you’d fallen asleep ,and you suspect that you’d wormed your way into Bradley’s chest again in your slumber. You can’t blame yourself, it’s a comfortable place to be.

You push against his abdomen to wriggle your way out of his embrace and reclaim the blanket that’s fallen, but his hands tug you closer in an instant. Too fast, you decide, as you peer through the darkness of your bedroom, eyes adjusting groggily to the light.

“Brad?” You whisper, “Are you awake?”

He takes a moment to answer, and you think he might be pretending to be asleep. But eventually you feel him nod against his pillow, “Yeah.”

“Oh, honey,” You strain to reach the bedside lamp from your spot in his grip, especially considering any distance you create between the two of you, he closes. Once you finally click the light on you see his bloodshot eyes, red and rosy from their lack of sleep.

“What’s the matter?” You croon, your voice still thick with sleep as you cup his cheek in your palm, “Why are you awake, did you have a nightmare?”

“No,” He rasps, something desperately sad in his voice, “I never slept.”

“What-” You whirl your glance around to the bedside clock that reads 2:30, “Brad, you’ve been awake the whole time?”

“I couldn’t sleep,” He defends, his fingers curling around your waist, “I- I don’t know how anymore.”

“Baby,” You feel a thick wave of nausea rising in your belly at his state of distress, feeling nothing but anguish for the broken boy; your broken boy, “It’s okay. You’re okay, you’re safe now, you’re home. You don’t- uh, do you remember anything new?”

“No,” He shakes his head, eyes downcast as he swallows tightly in his throat, “No, but my brain is coming up with a thousand different ways it could have gone, and I can’t stop.”

You hope his brain hasn’t conjured the correct possibility. That he’d gone down truly alone.

“Poor baby,” You whimper, somehow more choked up than he is, “Come here.”

As he settles in your embrace, his head against your chest now, you reconsider: maybe you were made for holding him, and he was made to be held by you. Or maybe your roles are the same, each made to hold and be held by each other. Whatever the universe designed for you, it’s working, as his face presses into your collarbones like a puzzle piece snapping into place. He fits perfectly, and you feel the prickle of his mustache as he sniffles, once.

“You’re okay,” You hum, hoping that the vibrations of your voice through your throat sing him to sleep. Your nails scrape through his hair, long-since dried from his shower, though still smelling strongly of shampoo. You can feel him breathing, shakily so, against your skin, and the breeze fans through the neckline of your top, warm and soft in its rhythm. 

In, out. He’s alive. In, out. He’s here. In, out. He loves you. In, out. He wants you to stay.

In, out. He doesn’t know. In, out. He could remember at any second. In, out. He could hate you.

In, out. He won’t hate you. In, out. He’ll want to work things out. In, out. He’ll want you to stay. In, out. He loves you.

“Baby,” You croak, your throat thick with tears that are part anxiety, and part anguish for your poor boy, “I love you.” 

His hands tighten around your waist after a split second of silence, then he murmurs against your collarbone, “I love you, too.”

“Sleep,” You insist, resuming your soft strokes through his hair, “Sleep, Brad. You’re safe, you’re home.”

“You’re home, too.” He adds, and you realize it’s an affirmation on its own. That you're together; that he didn't die alone in a cockpit.

You nod, swallowing a sob, “Yeah, baby, I’m home too. And I’m not leaving, I’m gonna park my ass right here until you get eight hours of sleep, at least. Got it?”

He laughs weakly into your skin, “Got it, babe.”

“Good,” You whisper, keeping up a steady rhythm through his hair, “Good, honey, now sleep.”

You can’t seem to close your eyes until Bradley closes his own. You feel the flutter of his lashes against your skin, Then they cease their motions and the upper strands settle over the lower ones, brushing your chest in tandem. The longer you go without feeling them twitch, the better, and you don’t stop combing through his hair until his breathing has been soft and even for ten minutes minimum. Then exhaustion creeps back over you, and the knowledge that Bradley’s finally sleeping eases you into another few hours of your own slumber.

What wakes you up for the second time isn’t the series of knocks on the front door, but, yet again, a phone call. It's seemingly a pattern of late. This time your phone rings in the kitchen though, where you’d left it last night while eating. You’re surprised it hasn’t died, but you hear the ringing fade out while you lay in Bradley’s embrace. Your brain struggles to process the past 48 hours, but you know enough about the situation to know that it’s probably Carole knocking at the door, as well as calling you when you don’t answer.

Bradley’s still sleeping, thank god, serene when his eyes aren’t open to showcase the deep anxiety they hold. You can’t imagine how he feels, clueless and terrified, like a little kid. You’re glad he’s getting at least a few restful hours, even if you’re sure his dad and yours’ voices will boom far too loud through the house the second they step through the door.

Rushing to answer the door is hard to do silently, but when your face pops into the window panes set in the wood, you hold a finger over your lips.

Shush, you warn, then with a jerk of your thumb backwards towards the bedroom, he’s sleeping.

Carole, the one who needs your warning the least, nods jovially, a pretty smile already set on her face for the day. She’s a ray of sunshine, and you’re lucky to have her at this moment especially. Nick and your dad salute you, and you’ve never let out a more exasperated sigh than the one you greet them with.

“Mornin’, Sleeping Beauty,” Nick grins, barging in like he owns the place (which he did, for a while), “Brad still conked out?”

“Yeah,” You nod, opening the door wider to let everyone through. Carole’s carrying an insulated bag, your dad has a few totes of groceries, and Nick's got a heavy cooler strapped over his shoulder like a purse.

“My god,” You marvel, “Did you raid a Trader Joe’s?”

“You said there was nothin’ in the fridge,” Carole grins, “We brought stuff for breakfast, and whatever else you need, we can run out for later.”

“Thanks,” You gush, taking the bag from her despite her protests, “Is there milk in here?”

“And eggs,” Your dad nods, holding up his own bags, “And bread, and fruit, and-”

“And I wanna put this thing down,” Nick groans, heading for the kitchen with the cooler, “You talk too much, Mav.”

“Me- I talk too much?” His voice raises a hair as he heads for the kitchen in tow, and you and Carole shoot him the necessary disapproving looks, “This, from the guy who missed his flight to Hawaii because he was too busy telling the gate attendant that his son won student of the week in preschool.”

The two conveniently bicker, leaving you and Carole alone in the entryway. She sends you a questioning glance, no words needed.

“Not yet,” You mutter, and her eyes dim in disappointment, “I just- I wanted one night. One night to pretend like nothing happened at all, but I promised him we’d do it today. I told him,” You sigh shakily, pinching at the bridge of your nose, “I told him I wasn’t trying to hide from him, or anything like that, but- but that I just wanted a normal night. He said it was fine, he agreed. I wouldn’t have just gone to sleep if he pushed.”

“Honey!” She scolds, like there’s not a thought in your head, “Since when has he ever pushed you? Of course he said it was fine, you asked him for it! He'd let you run him over with a train if you asked to. You have got to stop this,” She narrows her eyes at you, the expression accompanied by various only-slightly-muffled banging sounds from the kitchen “I know it’s scary. I know it could go a lotta different ways. But you owe this to him now. Now that he knows, now that he’s askin’ questions, you’ve gotta answer ‘em. You’re the only one that can, you’re the only one that knows!”

Neither of you have noticed your dad standing in the kitchen doorway. But he’s not stealthy, and his broad frame catches your eye. You turn, panicked, but his face reads confusion.

“You’re the only one that knows what?” He queries, one thick brow raised. Carole waits for you to answer, and you build the courage in your chest.

“Nothing, dad. I’ll- I’ll talk to you about it later. In private.”

He remains concerned, his light eyes darkened in worry, but he trusts you, and Carole doesn’t fight back against your solution. He nods once, then clears his throat, “Nick can’t figure out how to work your stove. He wants to make pancakes.”

“Ooh, that man,” Carole huffs, more exasperated than upset, as she storms into the kitchen, “Honey, it’s the dial in the back!”

Technically, you’re in private now. Your dad seems to realize the same, shifting towards you, but before he can ask, there’s a thud from the bedroom.

Fear stabs your heart like a sword, blade sharp and venomous as you imagine an injured Bradley unable to get himself off of the floor. But you aren’t able to take two steps towards the bedroom before Bradley comes stumbling down the hall, nearly tripping over the too-long pajama pants you’re still matching in.

When he sees you and your dad, he freezes for a moment, posture tight. You hope he’s not embarrassed to be caught in his holiday pajamas, but you’re more concerned about why he was sprinting in the first place.

“Baby,” You call worriedly, making your way over to him across the carpet of the hallway, “Baby, what’s wrong? DId you fall? I heard a thud.”

“No, I-” He shakes his head, blinking hard for a moment, “I heard someone in the house. I don’t- I thought someone had broken in. Sweetheart, I- I didn't even realize you weren't in bed," He chuckles sheepishly, "I thought I was protecting you.”

You squeeze his arm with a fond smile, though you're still worried about him, adoration swelling in your chest alongside concern, "Poor baby."

“Sorry, Brad,” Your dad laughs softly, heading back towards the doorway to rejoin the others once he realizes you won’t be sharing just yet,  “Your dad can’t find his way around a kitchen.”

“Should have known,” Bradley huffs, curling an arm around your waist, “If my mom ever left him he’d never eat again.”

You welcome the privacy that this gives you and Bradley, and your hands find the broad expanse of his chest as you stare worriedly up at him.

“Brad,” You hum, lifting one of your hands as his settle on your waist. You lay it over his cheek and he leans into the contact like a touch-starved puppy, “Are you sure you’re okay? You seemed really freaked out. And- and your ribs are still broken, don’t they hurt? I think you should get back in bed. We can-”

“Hey,” Bradley murmurs, mustache tickling your palm as he lays a kiss to the heel of your hand, “It’s alright. You’re spiraling, babe. I’m okay.”

You like that about him, the way he kisses you anywhere. It doesn’t seem to matter if he catches your lips, your hand, your elbow; it’s all there for him to love on.

“I am not spiraling,” You defend weakly, “I just want to make sure you’re alright. Did you hurt yourself?”

“No,” He shakes his head, and when you move to pull your hand away from his face, one of his own flies to catch it. His hand fits just as well against the back of yours as it does the front, and you let him cradle your palm to his cheek.

“I’m okay,” He repeats, a promise that reassures the deep ache of worry in your chest, “Thanks for helping me sleep last night, honey. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

You swallow the weight of his words, feeling them settle like boulders in your stomach. They’ve tangled strings around your heart, tugging and yanking at the organ until it sinks low in your body. Today’s the last day you can pretend you’d never walked away.

“You’ll have me forever,” You hum, leaning in to press a kiss to his lips that you hope distracts from the tears in your eyes. You sigh shakily against his mouth, relishing the feeling of his lips against your own. It’s comforting, and he keeps it chaste but meaningful, humming sweetly into you. When you break away only your lips part, foreheads and noses still flush like snapped-in puzzle pieces.

There’s some inexplicable force sticking you together, blood magnetized to each other’s from how long your hearts have beat as one. You let your eyes slip shut in his hold, hoping with everything in you that today isn’t the last time you’ll get to hold him like this. There’s a countdown ticking away in your brain, one that makes your blood run cold and your stomach churn, but the smell of pancake batter tears you away from watching the numbers run out.

“Pancakes,” You whisper softly against his lips, “You wanna eat?”

“Yeah,” He nods, but he makes no move towards the kitchen. He’s standing still, like you’re a cat that’s decided to snooze on his lap and he’s afraid of spooking you. His hands are still holding your waist, dragging you into him and supporting your weight against his own. It’s comfortable there, serene as you breathe in tandem, drinking each other in after a rough night. You’re glad Bradley’s gotten even a little bit of sleep, and with a nap later, you’re sure he’ll be well-rested enough to talk, even though you wish you didn’t have to. This is a fantasy you want to get lost in, one that you wish wasn’t starting to crack and splinter under his discerning gaze. It’s endearing that he knows you well enough to know that you’re lying to him, but not now that you want them to be the truth.

“You still haven’t remembered anything?” You ask, grateful to be cupping his cheek where his hand holds your own.

“Nope,” He shakes his head as much as he can with it pressed to your own, kissing at your top lip. It doesn’t require reciprocation, it’s barely-there and fleeting, “Doctor said it could be weeks.”

“He also said it could be minutes,” You mumble, voice hazy with worry, “Let’s go eat, Brad. Our parents brought along a buffet.”

It’s only now that either of you finally move, hands sliding across each others’ skin to join together. You walk as your fingers intertwine, and he holds back to let you step into the kitchen first.

“There he is!” Nick cheers at his son’s dramatic entrance, “Hey, Brad, watch this!”

He yanks the pan off of the stove, standing with his shoulders squared and his knees bent, like he’s preparing to bat at a softball. He jerks the pan up and out, dislodging the pancake from its resting place and sending it into the air when he pulls the pan back down again. It flips gracefully, but Nick catches it less so, half of the gooey side of the pancake landing on the rim of the pan and splattering onto his hand.

“Shit,” He hisses, and Carole buries her face in her hands with a sigh, “Mav, get me a paper towel.”

“Nice one, dad,” Bradley drawls, letting you stifle your laugh into his shoulder, “You could go pro with that.”

“If you make fun of me I’ll spit in the batter,” Nick grumbles as your dad swipes away the batter dripping inches away from his watch, “Thanks, Mav.”

The paper towel and pancake mishap are forgotten as you chat in the kitchen, standing around like a proper family. You’ve always been one, and you hope you always will be. You find an easy home tucked into Bradley’s side, feeling his thumb stroke at your waist and his lips press to your hair every few minutes. The pancakes go surprisingly fast, and Carole refuses to let anyone help her slice fruit, which is probably a good idea, at least for your dad, who’s fond of showing off knife tricks he hasn’t yet mastered.

Bradley’s perfectly capable of dressing his own pancakes up, but you feel the need to. Maybe it’s girlfriend duty, maybe it’s the fact that his ribs are still achy, or maybe it’s the fact that you’re trying to overcompensate, but whatever it is has your hand delving into the bowl of freshly washed blueberries, grabbing a handful and sprinkling them over Bradley’s buttered stack of pancakes. Then you take a banana, leaving Carole three more to slice up into the salad.

You slice the fruit towards your thumb, the blade pressing gently to your skin as it cuts through the banana. It doesn’t hurt, but Bradley reaches for your hands, pulling the knife away and holding the affected thumb.

“Don’t do it like that,” He explains, raising your thumb to his lips. He kisses it once, his lips pressing to the smooth pad of your finger, mustache tickling your skin, “I don’t want you to cut yourself.”

“I was careful,” You insist, but the last thing you want to do is pull away from Bradley, so you let him curl his fingers around your own, interlocking them as he holds your hand.

“I’ll cut it,” He squeezes your hand, leaning in to peck softly at your lips, “You’ve done a ton for me these past few days, babe. I can cut my own banana.”

You worry you’re coming off as smothering, that you’ve suffocated him with care. But the thought of never being able to do it again, and being deprived of the option to for weeks, has made you more of a helicopter girlfriend than anything. 

You let him cut his own banana, just in case he’s feeling resentment towards you for being so overbearing. But you don’t think he’s angry, not as he slices the banana down onto the cutting board and takes it between his thumb and forefinger. He holds it out for you, right up to your lips like you shouldn’t even be asked the effort of leaning forwards to eat it. You take it carefully from his hand, and you lament the fact that you’ll get banana mush on his thumb if you try kissing it. 

The fruit is flavorful on your tongue, but it’s a small slice, and you finish it quickly. You let the aftertaste linger in your mouth as you head for Bradley at the counter, pushing your face into his back and slinging your arms around his waist. You’re careful to keep pressure off of his aching ribs, and he leans into your touch instead of flinching away.

You settle your cheek against the soft fabric of his shirt, head turned so that you’re facing your houseguests. They’re all smiling at you, Carole most of all, and you offer them a sleepy one back.

“So, Brad,” Nick muses, plating the final pancake with a flourish that, thankfully, doesn’t send the stack toppling to the ground, “What are you gonna do today?”

“Nap,” Bradley blurts, and he uses the time that your family chuckles in unison to slip you another banana slice. It’s an awkward angle that his arm has to achieve, but you take it from him happily, jaw working to munch on the fruit while you nestle against his back once more.

“I dunno,” He hums, nearly through chopping the banana, “Maybe a movie or something. Hey, we could finish season 5 of The Office.”

“Mm,” You nod with a mouthful of banana against his back, “Yeah.”

You’ve been watching the series together, having finished Friends already. It’s a good show to watch before bed, because it gives you something to snuggle up together and giggle at. You’ve only got a few episodes left in the season, so you should be able to finish it in no time with Bradley’s extensive bedrest.

“Alright, my loves,” Carole croons, dropping the last two pieces of watermelon she’d been cutting into the bowl, “That’s the fruit! Are we ready to eat?”

A round of excitement circles the kitchen, and you cling to Bradley for as long as you can. He lets you, doesn’t try to shake you off as he drizzles syrup over his pancakes.

“You wanna split ‘em?” He offers, and you nod. He can’t see you, but he feels the movement against his back, and even if he wasn’t able to, he knows you well enough to know you’ll want bites of the food. You reluctantly let go of his waist when he picks the plate up, and you trail behind him to the dining room. He’s finally able to see the decorations you’d hung, and he stops to admire them in the doorway.

“Welcome home,” You coo, leaning your head on his shoulder. 

Carole stands proud beneath the banner, “Do you like it, baby?”

“Guys-,” Bradley chuckles sheepishly, setting the pancakes down at his place just beside yours, “I love it. Thank you, even though I was only gone for two days.”

“It was the longest two days of my life,” You gripe, but you suppose your days have been unpleasantly long for weeks now, “That’s what I was referring to, by the way, when I said your mom was scarily agile. I came out from the bedroom to find her standing on both the couch and the table.”

“Jesus,” Bradley huffs, bewildered. Nick looks a little concerned, Carole bashful, and your dad impressed. 

Eating around the table together reminds you of when you were younger, dinners and breakfasts and lunches alike being shared around the table. It didn’t matter who’s, you could turn a Denny’s booth into your home with a few plates of food and the laughter that’s never in short supply within your family.

Bradley cuts his pancakes himself, probably happy to have something to do with his hands. He’s eager to return the favor of feeding you, grabbing chunks of pancake on the end of his fork and guiding them into your mouth. You’re reminded of a picture you’d passed up in the photo album yesterday, of Bradley spoon-feeding you as a baby. His utensil-airplane impression was probably scarily accurate thanks to his dad; you wish you could remember it. Maybe, if you don't break up tonight, you'll see him feed your own kid that way.

You’re happy to sit and be fed, even letting him wipe syrup off of your chin like you’d done for him. You’re sure the only reason he doesn’t kiss it off of you is because your dad is there, and his, too. They have a tendency to make fun of you, even if it’s all good-natured.

“D’you need more groceries, baby?” Carole points her fork in your direction, pointedly swallowing her mouthful of watermelon before speaking.

Her husband doesn’t offer you the same courtesy, speaking through a messy mouthful of eggs, “Pro’lly not. We damn near bought out the store.”

Before Carole can reprimand him for his less-than-perfect etiquette, you nod, “We need produce. We might be okay on fruit if there’s any of this left,” You gesture to the bowl of fruit salad, “But we need vegetables. And eggs, we probably used them all. I’ll make a list later, once I clean up.”

“Once we clean up,” Bradley corrects you, “I’ve been in bed for two days straight, I need to do something.”

“You’re gonna need to be in bed for a lot longer than two days,” You narrow your eyes at him, “You need rest, baby,”

“I’m rested! And I’m gonna rest later when we watch our show,” He pleads, “Just let me help?”

“Why doesn’t he help me with the dishes?” Your dad intervenes, scraping his last bite of pancake through a sticky puddle of syrup on his plate. It’s boysenberry, and a drop nearly falls to your tablecloth as he brings it to his mouth.

“You wash, I’ll dry and put away. That way you can keep your arms down. Deal?”

“Fine by me,” Bradley nods, and you shoot your dad a thankful glance. 

“I’ll sort through the fridge then,” You decide, “Nick, Carole, you’re welcome to stay as long as you’d like.”

“We’re gonna keep bummin’ ‘round here ‘til you stop feeding us,” Nick decides, “Whaddya say honey, ‘think we can move into the guest room?”

“Oh I’m sure they’d love that,” Carole plays along, a wry drawl in her voice, “They’d have to hear your snoring all night.”

“He snores, too,” You jerk an accusatory thumb at Bradley who doesn’t even try to deny the allegation, “Like father, like son. It must come with the mustache.”

“Speaking of my mustache,” Bradley’s hand flies to his lip, feeling cautiously at the patch of hair atop it, “Did they- shave part of my mustache?”

A guilty look is shared around the table. You speak up in a meek voice, “Yeah, baby. To get the breathing tube in there.”

He groans, “Next time, just let me die.”

“Don’t say that,” You hiss, stomping on his foot beneath the table. The yelp that he lets out is almost comical, but Carole’s face is still scrunched in a disapproving frown at her son.

“I’m sorry!” Bradley cries, “I’m sorry, jesus, are you wearing steel-toed boots under there?”

“No, but if you keep making jokes like that, I’ll put some on and kick you in the balls.” You threaten, and Bradley thinks it might be a promise.

“It’s not funny,” Carole insists, voice weaker than yours, “Brad, you- you almost did die.”

“Mom-” He sighs weakly, posture deflating, “I’m sorry. Really, it was a bad joke. I won’t do it again. Are you okay?”

She takes a minute to think, blinking at her plate instead of meeting anyone’s eyes. Then she stands, nodding hastily, “I’m alright. I just need a minute.”

Bradley tries to follow after her but Nick stands at the same moment, waving him back down into his seat.

“She’s okay,” He promises, smiling sadly at his son, “But she really was scared. I’ll handle it, you finish eating.”

Bradley slumps back into his seat, the sinking feeling in his gut at making his mom cry probably similar to the one in yours from lying to him. You’ve become scarily fond of this temporary life of yours, where you’re still dating Bradley, and you’ve got a family again. Lying comes easy now, and if you don’t think about it, you’ll forget you’re even doing it. You’re the actor most dedicated to their craft, believing even your own performance because it means you get Bradley back. 

Lying is much easier when you love doing it.

You hear a rogue sniffle from Carole down the hall, and you clatter your fork against your plate to cover it up. It probably doesn’t work, as Bradley stares forlornly at his own almost-empty plate, and you don’t think he has the appetite to finish it.

“Are you done?” You nudge his knee, and he glances up dazedly at you.

“Yeah,” His throat is dry and his voice is weary, “You want the rest?”

“I’m okay,” You shake your head, turning to your dad, “Dad? You all finished?”

“Yeah,” He smiles weakly, trying to break the awkward silence, “Ready to clean up the kitchen, Brad?”

“Alright,” He hums, standing from his chair. His movements are slow and sluggish, and you don’t think he’ll be at his best until his mom comes out with dry cheeks and a smile. In the meantime, you dig in the cupboards for a tupperware to put the fruit salad in.

Cleaning is tense, even if you and your dad try acting like nothing is wrong. Bradley’s not talkative anymore, and you resort to going about your business silently, packing the fridge with what little leftovers there are and making sure Bradley isn’t straining himself at the sink.

When Nick and Carole emerge from the bathroom, peering tentatively into the kitchen, Bradley nearly drops the last plate he’s washing into the sink. He hastily dries his hands, moving in for a hug from his mother while she smiles sheepishly at him.

“I’m sorry,” He repeats, and Nick smiles on. You try not to stare, not to ruin their moment, but you can’t help it; you and your dad share a happy grin.

“I know, baby,” She promises, combing a hand through the back of his hair, “I know, I just- I just get worried about you, s’all. ‘Specially when you land yourself in the hospital.”

“No more jokes,” Bradley promises, and she gratefully parrots him, adding 'and no more crashes,'.

“Alright,” You hum, when it’s appropriate to speak, “I’m gonna run to the store. Brad, you should get back in bed, but- uh, again, you’re all welcome to stay for longer, if you’d like.”

“I’ll go with you,” Your dad steps in, almost too close to be casual. You realize why, and that sinking feeling you’d been trying to ignore the entire morning comes back; He wants to know your secret.

“Okay,” You nod, trying to keep your composure even if your hands suddenly feel sweaty, “We won’t be gone long. Babe, get some rest, I mean it.”

You narrow your eyes at Bradley, then turn to Nick and Carole, “If you stick around, will you be on babysitting duty? Don’t let him wander around too much.”

“Will do,” Nick nods once, firmly, “Come on, Lieutenant, you heard your orders.”

“Alright, alright,” He gripes, rolling his eyes exasperatedly as Nick pats his back. He moves towards you, stepping across the kitchen tile to kiss you goodbye.

“Get me some cheetos,” He pleads, face only inches away from your own. He leans in and his mouth moves against yours as he speaks, “The jalapeno ones?”

“Okay,” You giggle, dragging out the last syllable. You use his lips to chase away your nerves, letting his sweet touch drown out the thoughts in your head. You kiss him briefly once, then twice, and send him off to bed with a quick nudge of your nose against his own.

“Bye,” Your dad flashes one hand in a quick wave as you call, ‘Be back soon!’.”

He doesn’t make his move the second the door shuts, he waits until you get going down the road in Bradley’s Bronco before opening his mouth.

“So,” He tries coming off as casual but you wouldn’t buy it in a million years, “What was Carole talking about earlier?”

“I didn’t want to tell you,” You confess, suddenly very invested in checking your blind spot even though it’s clear, “I wanted to keep it private. I didn’t even want her to know.”

“Well, she knows everything,” Your dad shrugs, discerning eyes glancing at your own guarded ones through the mirror, “And I’m usually out of the loop. Can we change that just this once?”

“Dad-” You scoff at his persistence, running a hand over your face and slapping it back onto the wheel, “Something happened between Bradley and I before the crash.”

“Something happened,” Your dad muses, brain trekking heartbreakingly positive routes, “You… paid off the cars? You bought a pet? You- oh god, don’t tell me you’re pregnant.”

“No!” You gush, but it’s not for a lack of sex, merely your use of contraceptives, “I- um, he asked me to marry him.”

You feel cruel when you see his face light up. It’s like the inflation of a balloon, features rising in joy until his eyes shine like the sun, “Oh, honey, that’s amazing. Congratulations! Have you set a date, or- or a venue, or-”

“I said no.”

The balloon deflates slightly. A tiny puff of air escapes it, like you’ve released your fingers around its spout for only a second. His eyes dull slightly, and his smile is cautiously still stretching his cheeks.

“What?”

“I said no, dad.” You repeat, voice aching in your throat, “I said no, and I left him.”

“You left him?” Your dad’s voice mirrors your own, bordering on shaky as his brain reprograms its image of you two, “You- you said no and you left him?”

“Yeah,” You whimper, the word coming out far weaker than you wish it did. Your mouth turns down so that you can bite the inside of your bottom lip, desperately withholding a sob.

“Why?”

That’s the million dollar question. The one you know the answer to, but don’t want to admit to anyone. You left because you were scared of getting hurt, and now you’re lying to everyone because you’re scared they’ll see you as a coward. You’re scared they’ll think you’re scared.

You’re scared they’ll know you’re scared.

You want to tell your dad that you don’t know. You want to tell him that it had been a fit of insanity, that you’d been cured with a walk around the block and that you’d kissed and made up just that night. But you swallow your nerves, squaring your shoulders as you make a right turn, “I was scared.”

You’d admitted it to Carole in the hospital, but she’d seen right through you, she’d forced your confession. Doing it now, by choice, makes you feel like you’re taking a step forward. It’s like you’re actually cracking down on the promise you’d made to yourself days ago, that you’d stop running just to self-destruct. You’re not facing your dad in the seat but it feels like you’re facing off with some sort of formless, panic-driven entity that encapsulates him, and slowly you’re chipping away at it.

“I was scared because marriage seems so much more than dating does. We’ve been dating- forever. The only thing marriage would have changed was that we’d have a paper telling us we loved each other. I mean,” You laugh, but the sound is reminiscent of a sob, “-we always joked about being too lazy to get married. That we didn’t do it for 20 years because we already practically were, and we didn’t wanna waste gas money for some preacher to tell us we were. But- but anyways, after Javy’s crash, I was remembering Nick’s, and I started worrying about Bradley. I was sad and scared for Nick and Javy, I couldn’t imagine being in that situation with Bradley. So when he asked me to marry him, it felt like if I said yes I’d be signing onto that. I- I know that’s dumb, and that’s not what saying yes meant. But I had this awful panic running through my head; that he could crash at any point in time, and if I didn’t get out soon, I’d be heartbroken and terrified like everyone else was, and I didn’t wanna go through that again. So I- I said no, and I told him I couldn’t love him anymore, and I left, because I thought that I’d be okay if I just didn’t marry him. Like I could have- moved on in the two days I wasn’t living with him, or something. Like if I just wasn’t formally dating him, or married to him, I wouldn’t be hurt if he was.”

“And-” You break away, voice trembling and nose running, “It didn’t even work. I walked out, and he still crashed, and I still got hurt. I didn’t solve anything, I- I made it worse. I made it so much worse, dad.”

You’ve turned into the grocery store parking lot, and a terrible, stiff, heavy silence hangs over the car while you park it. You wait until you shut it off, engine puttering out and body no longer humming, to look at him.

He’s staring at his lap, crystal-clear tears sliding down his cheeks. He isn’t looking at you, but you’re sure he knows you’re looking at him, and it turns your stomach in a nauseous whirl.

You stare for five seconds before he speaks. Five agonizing, soul-crushing, terrifying seconds where you think you might be on the verge of being disowned.

“I was never good at commitment,” His small voice breaks the silence, and the breath that he drags in to push the words out is shaky, “And- neither was your mom. Obviously. So I shouldn’t be surprised that it runs in the family. But- but Y/N, you left? You have been in love with Bradley since before you could say the word, I mean he- he was the only one that could get you to stop crying before your naps as a kid! You wouldn’t sleep unless he was in the room, I’m surprised Nick and Carole didn’t move him in with us.”

“I know,” You croak, but he’s not finished.

“I- I understand your thought process.” He assures you, “It’s flawed, but I understand how your brain conjured it up. You were trying to save yourself, and I understand that instinct. I just can’t believe it happened between you two. I mean, you were fated, I thought you two would set the world record for longest relationship. You were gonna go gray together, you were gonna have a thousand kids, and-”

“Dad!’ You cry, a sob shaking your chest, “I know. I get it. You’re making this worse.”

“How could I possibly make this worse?” He laughs incredulously, but there’s not a shred of humor in his voice, “Y/N, I-” He lowers his voice, cutting some of the exasperation out of his tone, “I don’t even understand, why is he- oh.. my god.”

“He doesn’t know,” Your dad concludes, head knocked back against the headrest, “He doesn’t know you left him because he has amnesia.”

“Yeah,” You confirm, voice meek and shameful, “I- I was gonna leave after I knew he was okay. But then- then Carole figured us out, and she said it would be better if I pretended for now, because he was probably scared and he needed my comfort in the moment. She said to just let him remember on his own time and then address it, to- to not overwhelm him with a plane crash and a breakup.”

“But I- I thought he’d have his memory back by now,” You sniffle, wiping your nose with your hand, caring little about the mess, “The doctor said minutes, I didn’t think it’d go on for days. And now I’m starting to get worried, will- will he ever remember? Am I supposed to lie to him for the rest of my life? Or am I supposed to leave again, to confess and break his heart a second time? I don’t know what to do, dad!” You feel like a little girl, sobbing in her father’s lap, “Please, I- I don’t know what to do.”

You’re immensely relieved when he reaches over to take your hand. You’ve spent the last two weeks disgusted with yourself, and for your dad to react the way he did, you were afraid he felt the same. But he squeezes your hand tight, and you’d complain about how it squished your fingers together if it were any other situation.

“Honey,” His voice trembles, and you recall the only times you’ve ever seen him cry. After Goose’s accident, of course, when you’d broken your arm at the park when you were twelve, when the dog he’d gotten for you as a birthday present passed on. He’s a man of very little tears, so seeing them now moves you.

“I love you,” He promises, and you’re glad that hasn’t changed, “And I’m always going to, even if you do the wrong thing. And this was wrong, that- that was the wrong thing. But I think you can make it right again, and if you need my help doing that, it’s yours.”

“Thanks, dad,” You gush through a faceful of tears, a wet mess sliding down your chin and soaking through the neckline of your shirt, “I- I want to make it right. Carole thinks he’ll take me back if I apologize. And I want to, I want to apologize.”

“Yeah,” Your dad’s brows raise and he sniffles, wiping a tear from his face, “Yeah, that’s a good start. I think he’d forgive you for just about anything, I- I don’t know that you could ever drive him away.”

“That’s what Carole said," You recall, and you feel guilty for the hope it gives you.

“But that doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt him.” Your dad reminds you, and you nod.

“I’m gonna grovel.” You decide, “Like, hardcore, begging on my knees, ‘I’ll-do-anything-for-you-to-forgive-me’ groveling.”

“I think that’s your best bet,” Your dad lets out a huff of laughter, smearing away another tear, “I think you can do it. But I can’t promise it’ll be easy.”

“I know,” You lament, “But- but I don’t care. I’ll do it even if it's hard. He’s worth fighting for.”

“That’s my girl,” Your dad grins, squeezing your hand. It feels like you’re back on the peewee soccer field at age four after scoring a goal. You squeeze back, and have a sudden hankering for orange slices.

“Okay, let’s stop fucking crying,” He breathes, wiping at his eyes overzealously and sniffling hard. You should have known he’d pump up the dramatics, even in serious situations.

“Alright,” You laugh wetly, the sound infused with hope you wouldn’t feel if it weren’t for your dad, “Do you think they’ll be able to tell we were crying?”

You share a quick once-over with your dad, clocking his red eyes, puffy towards the bottom, and equally rosy nose. You’re sure your face is just as swollen, and he cracks a grin.

“Nah,” He shakes his head, “Definitely not.”

The next thing you share is a laugh, cranking the car’s AC on high so that your tears dry up quicker. Maybe they’ll even freeze right on your cheeks, so that you can save them and defrost the memory later to feel your dad’s love again.

--

“You heard the lady,” Nick calls to Bradley when he reaches for the dish he’d abandoned in the sink, “Head to bed, Brad. I’ll finish the dishes.”

“It’s one plate!” Bradley gripes, but Carole’s dangerous glances towards him works just as effectively as it had when he was younger, and he grumbles, “Fine.”

“Sweet dreams,” Nick jeers after him as he shuffles back to your shared bedroom, but Carole nudges him towards the sink with a scoff.

“Stop teasin’ him, and get to work, busboy. I expect the counters wiped, too!”

“Call me goddamn Cinderella,” Goose grumbles, but he’d wipe down the floor before every step she took if she asked him to. He gets to work with no protest.

Carole treads carefully down the hallway, hoping her son is dressed sufficiently for her presence in the room. She finds him swapping out his pillow for yours, and she lingers in the doorway with a careful smile.

“Hey, babycakes. Gonna nap?”

“Maybe,” Bradley nods, hair already mussed from the pillow, “Thanks for staying, mom.”

“Of course, baby,” Her heart aches for her son, being on the brink of death and not even remembering it. Being so close to losing his life and not knowing how it felt. Just knowing that it happened; knowing that it didn’t happen.

“You told me when you were twelve that you were too old for me to tuck you in,” She pushes off of where she’s leaning against the doorway, coming around the bed to Bradley’s side to fuss with the blankets, “But you’re probably still weak from the crash, and you couldn’t push me away if you tried.”

He lets out a laugh, one that’s rife with exhaustion but genuine all the same, as she digs her hands beneath his sides, tucking the comforter beneath him. She braces her hands on the mattress to lean down and kiss his forehead, and when she does, the tips of her fingers are pricked by the sharp corner of something she can’t see under the pillow beside him.

“Ouch! What-” She hisses, nearly face-planting over Bradley’s shoulder as she lifts the pillow. She stiffens when she realizes it’s a picture of you, framed in black wood and probably missing from his nightstand.

“I- I’m sorry.” She mumbles as he lays frozen and awkward in place, “I didn’t mean to pry. It just- it was sharp, and I was confused. If I'd known-”

“It’s alright, mom.” Bradley promises weakly, clearly embarrassed by her discovery, “Don’t worry about it.”

Carole is worried. She moves in again for the forehead kiss, letting it linger against Bradley’s forehead for a second longer than she needs to. She fights back tears when she pulls away, barely able to muster a smile.

“She’s just goin’ to the store,” She teases sweetly, “She’s not shippin’ off to war. That’s your job.”

“Yeah,” He laughs weakly, “I know. I just miss her.”

She agrees as she combs through his caramel-colored hair with one hand, “Yeah? Tell me about it, baby. What’s going on?”

She wants to hear it from him. She wants to know exactly what he’s thought of your careful deception, and see if she can offer him even miniscule relief towards your possibly suspicious behavior. It’s hard playing a double agent, but she loves you both too much to pick a side.

“Mom,” He takes a long pause before speaking, gnawing on the inside of his cheek like it’s gristle he’s working through, “I lied.”

She racks her brain, were the pancakes not good? Did he not want her to tuck him in? Does he wish they’d gone home so that he could have a moment of silence?

“Oh, yeah? About what, baby?”

“I…” Bradley starts, looking like the words are making him nauseous, rolling his stomach as they crawl out of his mouth, “I remember everything.”

Carole’s the one that’s going to be sick. Her stomach has only dropped so fast twice in her life, receiving the news of both of her boys’ crashes. It’s the hardest thing in the world to keep a straight face, but she allows it to drop slightly so that it looks like she’s just shocked by the news.

“What?" Perhaps her voice is louder than it should be, but she can't control it, "Your memories are back?’

“Yeah. I- I remember it all. And Mom-”

“Brad,” Nick calls from down the hallway, barreling into the room in his typical dramatic , “You- she said your memories are back?”

They freeze like he’s torn an irreparable hole in the delicate conversation. He’s always had a habit of bringing life into a room, but the subject matter had been killing them both, and his energy is the opposite of what they both need to finish it.

“Yeah, dad.” Bradley breathes, a sheen of uncontrollable tears glazing over his eyes that he prays no one sees, “I remember everything.”

“That’s great!” Nick cheers, giddy demeanor slowly dying as no one else smiles, “...Isn’t it? What’s- why are you crying, Brad?”

Carole turns to see for herself, and swallows a sob as she reaches over to wipe the single tear away that had managed to escape down his left cheek. At her touch his face crumples, and what must be a million more tears flood his face.

“Woah, hey,” Nick sits at the end of the bed, face finally drained of all happiness, “What’s the matter, Brad?”

“S’okay baby,” Carole promises, her own voice shaky, “You’re okay, Bradley. You can talk to us, you can tell us anything. What’s the trouble?”

“She left.” Bradley whimpers, overhead light illuminating every single crystalline tear that rushes in a waterfall down his face. He gasps for breath, choking on a cry when he tries to speak over it, “She- she left me!”

“Bradley,” Carole rushes to soothe him, smoothing her hands over his cheeks and slipping one behind his neck, “Sit up baby. Come here, sit up, talk to us.”

He lets Nick help her tug him off of the mattress, and he slumps forward into Carole’s embrace when she pulls him into a hug. He doesn’t even turn his head to bury his face into her shoulder, he just cries against her, limp like a ragdoll.

She presses rapidfire kisses to his temple, tears flowing down her own cheeks. She heard your side of the story first, she knows you had your reasons and your fears and your regrets, but watching Bradley fall apart is planting an ugly seed of anger towards you within her chest. She hates it because she loves you, but she wants her son to be okay again.

“Brad-man,” Nick splutters warily, “Y/N? Bud, she just went to the store. She’ll be back in, like, an hour, tops. No need for tears, son.”

“Nick,” Carole hisses, wishing she wasn’t so angry with him for not knowing the truth. She shouldn’t either, so she pets Bradley’s hair down to distract herself from giving anything away, “Baby, what do you mean?”

“She left,” Bradley repeats, crying defeatedly, his posture slumped and his tears thick and plentiful, “I asked her to- to marry me, and she left.”

Nick is finally silent. His spine stiffens, and Carole guesses a shiver ran up it. He looks at her bewilderedly, bordering on horrified, and she stares back, wishing for the third time in her life that she could turn back time.

“Brad,” Nick starts carefully, voice weak, “Do you- do you think you might be misremembering things, bud? I trust you, and- and obviously this means a lot to you. But that- maybe your concussion’s messin’ with your head. Are you sure that happened?”

“I’m sure, dad.” Bradley had the option to respond with a lot more malice than he chooses to, the words coming out miserable instead, “She left me, and now she’s pretending she never did, because she thinks I don’t remember.”

“She left you,” NIck repeats, still skeptical, “And she’s- she’s lying? Why would she-”

“I hope she never stops,” Bradley croaks, throat raw from sobs, “I hope she lies to me forever.”

Carole’s breath is knocked out of her chest. She manages a soft, teary, ‘What?’, and Bradley straightens up from where he’d been lying in her embrace.

“She left two weeks ago,” Bradley recalls, a stray sob bouncin his chest, “And- and it was hell. I lived in hell for two weeks. I thought she’d stay with Phoenix or something, but I- I checked, and her location was always some cheap motel. At first I thought- well, I was worried she was seeing someone else, or something. Y’know, motels have,” He sniffles, “-bad reputations. So I didn’t go see her. I thought she was over me or something. But she’s- that’s not her. That’s not my girl. So I was going to show up on Friday, give her until the end of the week to cool off, and bring her flowers. Chocolates, ice cream, movies-” He rambles, “Whatever. I wanted to make her fall in love with me again. But- I mean, that didn’t fucking work, did it?”

Carole’s too distraught to scold him for his language. He deserves it, he deserves to climb onto the roof and shout ‘fuck!’ as loud as he wants. The situation is truly fucked, there’s no other word for it.

Her chest ripples with a sob, and Nick’s hand comes to rub her back. Up and down, in soft, soothing motions that remind her why she fell for him. 

“And- and then I woke up in the hospital, and my head was fuzzy, and my memories were gone. And the doctor told me I had amnesia, and she- she freaked. She ran off, she made that shitty bathroom excuse. I thought she was just going to cry, and- and didn’t want anyone seeing her. But everything came back to me while you two were outside,” Bradley glances guiltily at Carole, “-and- and I was gonna beg her to stay when she came back. But then- she asked to kiss me,” He whimpers, face held tight in a twisted grimace as he tries not to sob again, “-and I had a choice. I realized she was pretending, that- that it never happened. And I could choose to confess to remembering the truth, and lose her all over again, or-” Bradley shuts his eyes, squeezing a tear out of the left one, “Or pretend I didn’t know. And I wanted her- I needed her, so I pretended. I let her kiss me, and I let her-” He sniffles hard, “I let her hold my hand, and I let her feed me, and I let her lie to me. I loved it,” He cries, shoulders shaking with sobs, “I loved it when she lied to me. And I don’t want her to stop. At- at first, I thought she’d confess. That she’d tell me so that we could forgive and forget, or- or at least move forward. Because I want to, I want to forgive her, I already have, but she just won’t tell me anything happened. She was so-” He considers, voice heavy with despair, “So sweet in the hospital. It felt like nothing had happened at all, and I thought we could go back to that. We got so damn close,” He recalls, “We were- we were in the hospital room, alone, and she was just starting to tell me, and a fucking nurse walked in. We were this close!” Bradley sobs, fingers held a few tantalizing centimeters apart, “But now- now she keeps dodging the questions, and I started realizing that she-” He sniffles roughly, “-she might not want me back. She might leave if she knows I know. She’s doing it out of pity,” He chokes on his words, “So now I can’t tell her. Now I have to lie unless I want to lose her.”

Nick looks sick to his stomach, and Carole feels the same. They’re sharing horrified glances, but neither wants to berate him for lying to them. Nick reaches out to hold Bradley’s hand, and he squeezes it reassuringly.

“I get it, Brad. I do. I- if you don’t mind me asking, why did she leave? I thought-” He trails off, picking back up with even less confidence, “I thought you were soulmates, or something.”

“Yeah.” Bradley breathes, nodding, “I did, too. But she- she told me she couldn’t love me anymore. And I didn’t want to make her.”

“She told you she couldn’t love you anymore?” Nick rears back to stare questioningly at Carole, “What does that mean?”

“She’d been weird lately,” Bradley admits, “Sort of withdrawn. She wasn’t as enthusiastic in the mornings, when I’d go to work. But she always seemed fine when I came back- great, even. And I just figured she wasn’t sleeping right. But- but since Coyote crashed, I've been... scared. I had this sort of epiphany, that I could die any day and she’d be left all alone. I could die before we got married, I could die before we had kids, I could die before I got to grow old with her. I mean, I knew it was a risk,” He reasons, “But that was real. I watched that happen, and I watched his girlfriend sob in the waiting room, and I realized that could be Y/N. And I didn’t want my girlfriend terrified outside my hospital room, I wanted to say goodbye to my wife. So I thought-” He wipes a tear from his cheek, rough enough to leave it stained red, “I thought if I married her, things would be better. More secure. And she’d know that even if I died, I’d love her forever. Because that’s what marriage is, that’s- that’s what we were.”

“So I ignored the way she was acting,” Bradley laments, “I- I pushed it aside as sleep deprivation, and I pulled out a ring, and I asked her if she’d marry me. And she- she just flipped. Her eyes got all wide, and I kept waiting for her to say ‘yes’, but- but she stood up instead, and she said no. She said she wasn’t ready, that- that she couldn’t do this. That she couldn’t marry me, that she couldn’t love me anymore. And I was-” He breaks into a sob, “I was so confused. I was so hurt, because- because what? What- where did that come from? I thought she loved me,” He cries, “I thought she’d love me forever. And all of a sudden, she just can’t anymore? What happened, did- did she not want to be with me forever? Was twenty years not enough? To convince her that I was enough? I was so terrified, and I had this disgusting, sinking feeling as she was rambling about it, and she headed for the door, and I- I panicked.”

Bradley pants between sentences, breathing heavy and labored as tears spill down his cheeks. “I followed her, and I caught her by the door, and I- I begged her not to go, I told her that we could work it out, that we didn’t have to get married, that I’d make everything okay again. But she still left,” Bradley cries, “She still left me, and she didn’t come back.”

“Bradley,” Nick breathes, a hand on his knee, “Shit, Brad. I’m sorry.”

“Baby,” Carole croons, leaning in to brace her forehead against his temple, “Baby, I’m so sorry. She’s- I wish she hadn’t done that.”

“Me too,” Bradley laughs, a humorless huff after he’s gotten enough control of himself to where he doesn’t sob, “But- but she’s pretending now. And if I confess to remembering, she’ll stop. And she’ll leave. She’s- she’s doing it out of pity,” Bradley drearily repeats, “Because she doesn’t want to drop a bomb on me after I fell out of the sky. And I know it’s not right to take advantage of it, to- to lie, but if it’s what I have to do to keep her with me-”

“No,” Nick shakes his head, “Brad, you can’t lie forever.”

“I can,” Bradley insists, “Dad, I have to.”

“You can’t,” Nick urges, “Brad, think about it. You really think she’d be kissin’ you if she didn’t love you? You think she’d have slept in here with you last night if she didn’t want to? You listen to me, boy. I don’t know why she left. I don’t know why she ‘couldn’t’ love you all of a sudden. But I know it’s bullshit, ‘cause she does. Something happened, and you need to talk about it with her. But spending your entire life living a lie isn’t right. That ain’t fair, to you or her. Tell her, Brad. Tell her you know.”

“I can’t! Not yet. I’ll- I’ll make her fall in love with me again. I know I can do it, I know I can convince her I’m worth it. That she can keep loving me. I’m not going to hold her captive, I just- I just want enough time to make her fall for me again, and then she won’t be lying about the love, then it’ll be real love, and that’s what I want. I can’t tell her yet, not until she really loves me again.”

“You have to tell her now, baby,” Carole concludes softly, gentle with her son’s broken heart and panicked brain, “Wouldn’t it be better if she knew? Then you could talk, and- and kiss and make up, that sort of thing. This is- a lie, Bradley, even if it's only temporary in your mind. You’re both lying to each other, and that’s not love."

“It’s all I’ve got,” Bradley breathes, tilting his tear-stained, blotchy face towards the light overhead. His eyes are shut, delicately so, and his lashes are clumped with tears. He sniffles, nose scrunching, and takes a deep breath before looking back at his parents.

“I know she said she can’t love me anymore, whatever that means. But like I said, I’m gonna win her over again, mom. I need her to love me, and if my options are letting her lie to me, or losing her, then I’m gonna let her lie to me until she doesn’t have to anymore. Until it’s real.”

Carole wants to scream at her son. She wants to sit you down beside him and scream something along the lines of ‘Would you confess already? Tell each other the truth, and get married!’. But she chooses a gentler approach, leaning in to wipe away what she hopes is the last of Bradley’s tears.

“I don’t think you should avoid it, baby,” She hums, keeping her voice soft and sweet so that Bradley takes it as friendly advice, and not a mother’s nagging, “I think you should tell her that you remember it all, and ask her what went wrong. Ask her why she felt like she couldn’t love you anymore, figure out what the problem was. Because if you know what the problem was, you can fix it.”

“But what if I can't-?” Bradley hums, and Carole snaps.

“Oh, of course you can fix it.” A residual dry sob splits her thought in half, “You two could fix world hunger if you did it together. Your dad’s right. She still loves you, even if she thinks she can’t. You might have to help her see that she still can, Brad. That she still does.”

“But I could lose her.” Bradley concludes glumly, “And I can’t lose her. So I can’t tell her the truth. I- I thought I lost her today." His shoulders tighten as he remembers, "I was trying to stay awake the whole night, just in case she tried slipping out before morning. But she caught me, and she-” He lets out a sob that hurts his throat, “She held me, and she lulled me to sleep, and I’ve never felt safer. But then I woke up, and she was gone, and the bed was empty, and- and I ran out to see if I could find her, and she was just in the hall. Talking to Mav. But I thought-” He can’t finish his sentence, shaking his head instead and starting over, “I can’t tell her the truth yet. I’ll lose her.”

They’re all running in circles, and it’s making Carole insane. She bites her lip to stop from confessing, then rises to her feet, Nick following after her.

“Sleep on it,” She suggests, smoothing out the bedsheets where she’d sat,  “And she’ll be back by the time you wake up. I think you should tell her,” She repeats, “She loves you, Brad. Goodnight.”

Nick takes his leave as well, nodding at his wife’s words. Bradley slumps back against his- your pillow, one hand already snaking beneath the opposite one to retrieve your picture.

Nick barely waits until Carole’s shut the door behind her before turning on her, “What the fuck?”

“Move,” She urges in a hissing whisper. She grabs his bicep, dragging him away from the door. She doesn’t feel safe talking anywhere in the house, paranoid that Bradley could hear, but she pushes NIck down into a seat at the table, and huddles close to him to murmur, “I knew.”

“You- you what?” Nick’s voice goes up in volume, and Carole is sure she spits a little bit when she shushes him.

“I knew,” She repeats, “I knew she left him. She told me at the hospital.”

“Why am I never in the loop?” NIck groans, looking thoroughly confused, “Wait, so you knew the entire time? Like, from day 1?”

“Day one of the hospital,” She nods, “She didn’t tell me when it happened, she waited until I asked where her ring was after his crash. I knew he was gonna ask her, but he told me to keep it a secret ‘cause he wanted to do a big reveal. But I noticed she didn’t have it on in the hospital, and I asked, and she burst into tears. Started ramblin’ about how she was freaked out, and how she fled, and wasn’t ever brave enough to come back.”

“Why,” Nick presses, “Why was she freaking out? What’s the ‘can’t love you anymore’ bullshit?”

“She got scared after Javy went down,” Carole recalls, “She said it took her back to your crash, and she realized all of a sudden that it could happen to Brad, too. And she didn’t wanna do that again, 'didn’t wanna sit in a hospital chair and wait to see if someone she loved had stopped breathing. So she’d been freakin’ out since Javy crashed, then all of a sudden Bradley proposes, and- bam,” She sighs, “Everything fell apart. I mean it was a recipe for disaster, the crash made her pull away, and it made him want to be closer than ever, and they never addressed it, so when they clashed, it just-” She rubs her temples, staring up at Nick through her lashes, “Unraveled. But this is good. This is- this is really good, Nick. He wants her back, he wants another shot. And so does she. We’ve been talkin’, and she wishes she’d never left in the first place. I told her she should confess later tonight, now- that was before I knew he already knows, of course. But- but they’ll talk tonight, and she’ll tell him what happened, and she’ll ask to fix things, and he’ll want that, too. It’s gonna be okay, Nick, they’re gonna be okay. They’ll be fine by the end of the night, I guarantee it.”

“My head is spinning,” Nick scoffs, dragging a hand down his mustache and tugging lightly on the ends, “So- so they both know, they just don’t know they know, but we know that they know, and we know that they don’t know they know, and-” He gives up, “I don’t know.”

“That’s about right,” Carole nods, eyes bugging for a moment before she heaves another sigh, “I think she’s tellin’ Mav about it now. He overheard us talking about a secret, that secret. So when he volunteered to go shopping with her I figured he was gonna ask. And I don’t think she’d lie to him, I don’t think she could if she tried.”

“This is all so goddamn complicated,” Nick laments, clearing a crumb off of the table, but ultimately just flicking it onto the floor, “We were easy, babe. I mean, we locked eyes and I was having visions of you in a white dress.”

“Stop,” Carole gushes, but a smile is growing on her face, “Love is complicated sometimes! Doesn’t mean it’s bad.”

“I’m just glad none of this shit happens to us,” Nick grins, holding out a hand, “You and me, honey, we’re easy love.”

“Don’t say it like that!” Carole gushes, though she gives him her hand willingly, “What are we, hippies?”

“I said easy, not free,” Nick laughs, “Nothin’ about our wedding was free, baby.”

“But you’d pay it all again, for me, wouldn’t you?” She narrows her eyes unamused at him, and he squeezes her hand.

“Honey, I’d spend every cent to my name just to be able to marry you over again.” Nick swears, and it’s the truth, they both know it. Carole gives him one of her sweet smiles, the one he’d fallen in love with, and each has renewed hope for you and Bradley. You’re in love just the same as them, and if they’ve got it worked out, so will you.

--

Grocery shopping with your dad is harder than you’d remembered, because now you’re the adult paying with your own money, and he’s the child throwing cookies and chips galore into the cart. You’re surprised you have any money left when you exit the supermarket, but you’re sure to pack 3 bags of Bradley’s cheetos into your stash. You wonder how he’s doing; if he’s asleep, if he’s fighting his parents to stay upright while they try to get him to rest, if he’s suddenly remembered everything he’d forgotten and now they’re helping him pack his things.

The thought of him leaving you makes your stomach burn white hot with fear, and you consider speeding home. But the load of groceries you’d gotten might have depleted any money you’d be able to pay the fine with, and you’re not keen on going to prison. So you and your dad drive home within the speed limit, and he helps you carry the bulging bags inside.

You’re simultaneously desperate to see Bradley, and hoping that you don’t when you walk in. On one hand, you hope he’s resting, napping in your bed like you’d asked him to. But on the other, if you don’t see him when you walk in, that means he might not even be in the house, and maybe you were right to catastrophize, maybe he’s gone, maybe he’s left you and asked his parents to drive him to the airport, and maybe he’s blocked you and told his teammates how awful you are, and-

And his parents are sitting on the couch. They turn back to smile at you when you come in, and both stand to help you with your bags. Your dad insists that he can manage all five that he’d lifted out of the car, but you’re eager to let Nick steal two of yours, and Carole takes the last one even though you tell her you can manage.

You busy yourself with putting the groceries away, and your dad busies himself with raiding the bags for the snacks he’d picked out. You’re sure he’ll slip a $20 into your purse later, he’s never let you pay for him, but he loves teasing you like he’ll dine and dash.

“Alright,” He announces, with hands full of junk food, “I’m outta here. I’m gonna head back home, I need to stock my pantry, then make dinner.”

“And that dinner wouldn’t be mint chip oreos, would it?” Carole raises an unimpressed brow at him and his junk food stash, and he rolls his eyes fondly at the woman.

“No. Penny has requested a very complicated pasta dish for tonight that I need at least three hours to make in case I mess up the first batch and need to restock ingredients to try it again. I think she’s testing me.”

“Good luck, buddy.” Nick claps your dad on the back, “Hope you pass.”

“Yeah,” Your dad’s eyes go wide, a sigh escaping him, “Me too. Y/N, uh-”

“Tell him.” Carole cuts in, eyes as intense as you’ve ever seen them despite the smile on her face. You know she means business, and you don’t blame her.

Nick doesn't look confused by her cryptic, vague statement, and you assume she’s filled him in. You suppose it’s only fair, because your dad knows now, too, but you hadn’t planned on making it a public affair. Nick doesn’t seem to despise you, though, in fact he sends you a reassuring smile as he herds Carole to the door.

“We’re going, too. He’s asleep,” He nods toward your bedroom, “Tell him, honey.”

Your suspicions are confirmed; he knows. You nod hesitantly, watching them pile into the entryway and take their empty grocery bags with them. All except for your dad, of course, who packs his snacks into one. You’re hit with an overwhelming sense of being blessed, not necessarily with divine miracles, but with people who just might be them. They’ve come, they’ve given you food, love, and encouragement, and they’re leaving so that you can have a chance at fixing up the best part of your life. 

If they notice your teary eyes when you wave goodbye, they don’t mention it.

The groceries are put away, and you have no desire to take down the decorations. Not when you’re aching with fatigue, not when your emotions have gotten the best of you for two weeks. You don’t have much energy for anything anymore, and you haven’t since you’d left Bradley. You wonder, if the worst happens, and he doesn’t forgive you, will you ever stop being tired? Is it Bradley that energizes you, is it the love that he’s so ready and willing to give you that keeps you going? 

You’d like to think you’d be able to pick yourself back up, dust yourself off, and move on with your life, but after twenty years of loving Bradley and being loved back by him, you know this is the only life worth living.

You drag your exhausted limbs down the hallway, cracking open the door to find that Nick was telling the truth - he’s fast asleep.

He’s on his stomach, his cheek squished sideways against the pillow. He’s snoring lightly, a sound that you should despise, but that prompts a grin over your face. You feel nothing but soft, sweet love for him in this moment, your snoozy boy.

You’re more than happy to crawl in beside him, barely remembering to take your shoes off before getting beneath the sheets. It’s warm beneath the blanket, the safe kind of warmth that draws you in with the promise of drowsy cuddles and whispered proclamations of love. You do just that as you snuggle up to Bradley’s side, adoring the way that he moves in his sleep to curl around you even if he doesn’t know you’re there.

“I love you, Brad,” You whisper against his temple, kissing his hairline and the prickly whisps that sit at its border. He’s roused from his sleep from how close you’d spoken to his ear, and it looks physically painful for him to open his eyes. He does, though, lifting his face so that his chin perches on your chest. He blinks blearily at you, once, twice, probably drowsy out of his mind. 

“Hm?”

His voice is groggy, thick with sleep. It’s the most endearing sound you’ve ever heard, and you crane your neck forwards to bump your nose into his as you repeat it: “I love you, Brad.”

His typical puppyish aura becomes more cat-like as he smushes his face into your own, nose smearing against your skin and forehead bumping into yours. He hums deep in his throat, happy to have you beside him as his hands wind tightly around your waist.

“Love you too, babe.” He rasps, “Gonna sleep w’me?”

“Yeah,” You whisper, smoothing his hair out of his face, “Lay down, baby, I’ll rub your back.”

His only reply is plopping his face back down into your chest, cheek chubbed up where it rests on your shirt. He’s out like a light almost as soon as you start raking your fingers up and down his back, ghosting them over his skin like you’re trying to do it without him knowing.

You know he’s sleeping by now, you know he doesn’t need you to keep doing it, but the fact that you get to feels like a gift, and you occupy yourself with the task of scrawling random designs over his back for a few minutes longer. Swirls and waves turn into a curve down his spine, and then you connect it with an identical one over his other side; a heart. One heart becomes two, then three, and all of a sudden he’s covered in them. You’re carving paths into his skin, digging heart-shaped trenches down his back like you’re walking the same path in a dirt road every single day. You wonder if he’d look good with them tattooed, an expansive mural of your love on his back for only you to see.

All of a sudden hearts aren’t enough.

I

LOVE

YOU

You trace letters into his back, your nail scraping slightly on every curve of your finger. He shivers slightly at the bottom half of the ‘y’, and you bite back a giggle as he nestles further into you.

You don’t stop there. 

YOU

ARE

CUTE

It seems only appropriate with the way he’s snuggled up to you like a sleepy puppy, desperate to press every inch of his body against your own. 

I

LOVE

YOU

Again, then- your breath catches in your throat as you remember.

I’M

SORRY

Tears prick at your eyes when his arms tighten infinitesimally around your waist, a sleepy hum oozing from his throat like sweet honey, slow and sugary. You’re worried he’s awake, that he’s caught onto what you’re doing, and wants to talk. You know you have to tell him, you just don’t want to.

But he settles without so much as the blink of an eye, and you wait only a quick second to start using his back as your diary once more.

I’M

SORRY

I 

WISH

I’D

STAYED

I

LOVE

YOU

You feel absolutely pathetic. Tears have leaked down your face, sideways into the bases of your ears, creating an uncomfortable wet sensation that you’d rather there not be. You’re trying to hold in a sob so that you don’t wake him, but it hurts. Your throat aches from holding in your anguish, and your chest aches with the knowledge that everything you’ve done with Bradley over the past few days could be your last time doing it with him. This morning could have been your last morning with him, this nap could be your last nap with him, the kiss you strain to press to his forehead could be the last kiss you ever give him. It’s all too much, and your finger tapers off in its pursuit of tracing your love letters onto his back.

You wrap your arms around him instead, a difficult position to maintain while simultaneously trying to sleep, but all you want is to drift off in his embrace, just in case this is the last time you’ll ever do it.

Between your exhaustion and your despair, the former wins out. You finally drift off into a dreamless sleep, burdened by the ever-present threat of this being the last day you can pretend like this. You’re talking tonight, whether you like it or not, and the thought plagues what could have been a very relaxing, rejuvenating nap with your lover.

Instead you wake up possibly less refreshed than before, bleary eyes blinking despite a pounding headache behind your eyes. The sun has shifted over the blankets you’re under, and Bradley isn’t on top of you anymore, he’s by your side. You’ve swapped positions, and you don’t know how he’d managed to maneuver you onto his chest without waking you, but he’s always exceptionally careful with you, so you’re sure you’d slept like a baby the entire time.

He’s still in his fuzzy pajamas, and you wish you were, too. He’s holding his phone above your head, presumably scrolling through social media, or news headlines he’s forgotten about since his accident, and his eyes are fixed on the phone screen. You have a quick second to admire him before he realizes you’re up, and your eyes rove over his features. His lips are quirked up delicately in the corners, his mustache dipping down ever-so-slightly over his bottom lip. His eyes hold a fond look that reminds you of honey, paired excellently with his caramel-colored bedhead.

His color has returned completely; if you didn’t get the call that he’d been an inch from death, you wouldn’t know now. But you know his injuries are more internal, and you’re worried about how he’s laid you over his chest. 

You’re in no rush to let him know you’re awake, so you ogle him some more. He swipes left a few times at the screen, and you think he might be looking between pictures. Of what, you’re not sure, maybe a tiktok slideshow of cute cats or of Hangman’s nieces at the playground. You’ve never met them, but the amount of pictures he sends of them makes it feel like you yourself gave birth to them.

He gets a notification and glances at it, but when his eyes drop back to the subject on the screen, they go lower than he’d intended, and he sees your open eyes blinking owlishly at him. In a second he’s forgotten about his phone, but he keeps it in his hand to avoid dropping it on your head.

His face doesn’t light up, it blooms. There’s no jarring explosion of happiness, no sudden firework show of joy, but his grin widens smooth and steady, like a vine crawling a garden wall. His eyes ooze with adoration, and you’d kiss them if that wouldn’t hurt him. His free hand tightens where it had been thrown around your waist, and he looks residually sleepy as he smiles down at you. He must not have woken very long ago.

“Hi, angel,” He hums, and you feel his slightly raspy voice vibrate through his chest. He leans forward to nudge his nose against yours, and you reciprocate like a cat in need of affection. You wriggle up by his side, peering at his screen while simultaneously nestling yourself against him. 

It’s a picture of the two of you together.

You’re at the zoo, and there’s a giraffe behind you, eager to see if Bradley’s phone contained any lettuce. It didn’t, but after the animal had tested its theory Bradley’s right speaker wouldn’t work until he got it replaced. It was a very pricey snack. He gives you a moment to admire it, then swipes to the right, back to one of the pictures he’d been looking at before. It’s you pressed up against the glass at the penguin exhibit, one of the little birds curiously following your finger against the glass. He swipes rapidly now, all through photos of you, most containing him as well.

You realize he’s looking only at pictures of you, and your heart just about stops in your chest. It doesn’t know whether to swell with love for the boy, or shrivel at the knowledge that he might delete them when he knows the truth. 

“Oh, Brad,” You breathe, “You’re looking at pictures of us?”

“Mostly us. A lot of just you, though,” He admits, “I’m trying to jog my memory.”

Oh.

“Oh.” You nod, “Is it-” You break off with a yawn, “Is it working?”

“No,” His smile dims, “Uh, not really. I don’t know. It’s like- I want them back, so this chunk of my life isn’t just missing. But I almost died- and,” He stops, eyes no longer focused on the screen, merely staring through it, “I don’t think I want to remember that.”

“I’m sorry, Brad.’ You tell hum, because you are. You’re sorry he can’t remember anything, you’re sorry he will remember everything, and you’re sorry you remember everything. “I’d swap with you in a second,” You promise, but it means more than you let on. You yearn for amnesia, you wish you didn’t have to remember making the stupidest mistake of your life and losing your love. You’d fall out of the sky if it meant you could forget what you’d done to him that night.

“I wouldn’t want you to,” He smiles sadly at you, kissing the crown of your head. “I’ll get through it. Whatever happens, s’long as I’ve got you.”

You hope he doesn't hear your voice tremble when you reply, “Yeah. You've got me.”

Bradley resumes scrolling through pictures, and his lips quirk up more at each image he sees.

“Remember this?” He angles the phone further towards you, “When Mav almost fell off of that fishing boat, and my dad almost fell in trying to stop him?”

“And your mom almost fell in laughing,” You grin, tucking the expression into his neck, “We should go fishing again, sometime.”

Hope blooms in his chest at your suggestion. He’s being extra endearing today, intent on reminding you just how much you used to love him. He wants to make himself worth it for you, he wants you to want to love him again, and the fact that you’ve suggested a future outing gives him hope that you might share that future together.

“We should,” He agrees, swiping to see a photo of you in his baseball cap, holding up a fish you’d caught with a giddy grin.

“Good catch,” He praises you, rubbing his arm up and down your side, “He looks surprised.”

“I would be too, if I ate a worm and it dragged me to some giants in a boat,” You shrug, “Plus, I let him go after. He was fine.”

“You’re a very ethical fisherman,” Bradley muses, “My dad only let his go because it flopped out of his hand.”

“He’s accidentally ethical,” You giggle, “The tail almost slapped him in the face.”

“I would have paid a fortune to see that,” Bradley gushes, his fingers digging ticklishly into your side, “Let’s hope he fishes up an old boot or something this time.”

“Like in a cartoon?” You rear back to laugh incredulously at Bradley, “I don’t think people really fish up boots, Brad.”

“I’ll chuck a boot in the lake just to see his face,” Bradley promises, and the giggles you two share harmonize the twang of your heartstrings.

The next photo Bradley swipes to is a New Year’s Eve one, your traditional pose with a much more confident kiss, this time around. It’s from this past year, and you marvel at how much you’ve both grown since the awkward teens you’d seen earlier.

“Oh, that reminds me,” You gush, almost kneeing him in the already-cracked ribs as you scramble for the photo album on the bookshelf, “Let’s look at these, Brad, they’re so cute.”

He almost points out the failure in your logic, even if he does want to see the pictures. He nearly asks you why you’d look at incredibly old pictures to jog recent memories, but then all of a sudden he’s hit with the thought that those might help his case, and he shuts up. He wants you to remember how much you used to love him, or, if you still do, how it was once worth it for you to do so. How once upon a time, you could love him, and maybe if you see enough baby pictures of the two of you together, loving each other since you’d opened your eyes for the first time, that maybe you’d decide you could love him again.

You rush back to the bed with the cover already cracked, though you show it off with a gooey grin, “You were enamored with me from the moment you saw me, Brad.”

“Of course I was,” He laughs, ringing his arm around your neck to hug you tight to his side while you flip to the first page. He peers at your scrunched-up baby face, vague memories of kissing your nose flashing through his mind from when you were younger, and it was the only thing that could get you to stop crying.

“You’ve always been the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen,” He swipes a finger over a photo of you together, stroking it along your cheek where he was feeding you mushed-up green beans. “See? I was so entranced I didn’t even notice you were about to kick me.”

He points to your tiny foot, clothed in a onesie with dogs on it, and poised ready to fire. You’d bet money that right after the photo had been taken, you had launched your foot into his knee, and you hope little Bradley wasn’t brought to tears over it. 

“Sorry, baby,” You hum, voice just as sticky-sweet as your kiss is against his cheek. He leans into it, but you’re not expecting it, so you smear a bit more spit over his face than you’d intended to. However, when you laugh incredulously and try to wipe it off, he wriggles away from your shirtsleeve, insisting on keeping the mark.

“No! I fell out of the sky three days ago,” Bradley gripes, head held high, “I get to keep all of the gross kisses you give me.”

“I’d launch a gross kiss attack if I wasn’t worried about hurting your ribs,” You lament, settling back into his side, “Oh, Brad, look at this one!”

It was your first Halloween together. Bradley’s sporting a yellow hat in the picture, with bear ears on top, and a red shirt over his chubby baby belly. His pants are the same shade as his hat, and you’re the Piglet to his Winnie the Pooh as you sit in a pink onesie and matching ear-hat in his little lap.

You tug the photo out of its sleeve, reading Carole’s neat inscription on the back: Bradley cried just a few minutes after we took this, because we looked away for a second and when we turned back he was feeding Y/N a snickers bar. We didn’t mean to yell, but we freaked out and spooked him, and he wouldn’t stop crying unless we told him he could finish the rest of the bar. Winnie the Pooh does NOT like raised voices.

“Crybaby,” You tease, and Bradley groans.

“I was a kid! They yelled at me! Of course I cried!”

“Poor baby, you just wanted to feed me chocolate,” You croon, turning sympathetic at the sight of his exasperated brown eyes, “You’ve always been good to me, Brad.”

“Always,” He promises, squeezing you tighter, then pointing at the next page over, “Aw, look at this one. They dressed you up as the turkey for thanksgiving.”

“We fell asleep in front of the fire,” You recall, not from memory but from the stories you’ve been told, and the pictures you’d seen, “We were both milk drunk and stuffed from dinner.”

“Still nappin’ together all these years later,” Bradley grins, leaning in to brush his nose against yours.

“Let’s nap together forever,” You sigh as you nestle your cheek back against his arm. His confidence builds the more you suggest a future together, and he thinks that what his dad had been telling him might have been right; maybe you do still love him, maybe it’s not a lie. Maybe you do just need a little convincing, and he’s happy to show you how great he can be for you.

“Here’s my first snowman,” Bradley hums, pointing to a picture that’s exactly as it was described. You’re on vacation together and he’s the snowman, bundled in a thousand layers of winter gear and still shivering from the cold as Nick piles snow around him in three tiers. You're sitting off to his left, eating a chunk out of his icy side.

“Your little nose is so red!” You croon, nearly melting in fondness for baby Bradley, “He was so mean!”

“I’m surprised I didn’t get frostbite. I bet my mom gave him the lecture of a lifetime for that one.” Bradley snickers, “Mav probably had to take us both into the other room so she could swear.”

“She swore at me the other day,” You recall, and Bradley’s eyes nearly bug out of his head.

“What? Why?”

You realize too late that you can’t really tell him the reason, but you shake your head dismissively, “It was when we were at the hospital. She was just stressed, ‘s all.”

Bradley’s half worried about his mom, and half worried about you. He’s concerned that his accident had stressed her out enough to swear, something she never did, but he’s concerned that it had been at the wrong time for you, that she’d only made your secret situation worse by snapping at you for something unrelated. 

You just hope he never finds out that she’d known from the start.

“Look,” You prompt, “There’s another picture of us napping in here, right-” You flip through a substantial amount of pages, “Here.” 

Your finger lands on a photo of you and Bradley at fifteen, harboring crushes on each other almost too big to hide. It seems like everyone but yourselves had known you were going to get together, and you flash your dad’s inscription on the back at him with an exasperated smile.

Next time, I’m making them leave the door open when they study.

You’re definitely not doing anything scandalous, but years in the navy had taught your father to be hypervigilant around men. He’d rather you be with Bradley than absolutely anyone else in the world, of course, he knew the boy was kind-hearted, but he was still a boy, and it was difficult for him to be one-hundred percent on board with the situation while you were still teenagers.

You’re slumped against each other on the bed, being held up only by the other’s opposite weight. You’re balanced precariously, and if either of you had shifted slightly, you’d both have toppled. But it seems you’d dozed off while reading a Physics textbook, and you don’t blame yourself at all. 

You’re not sure you’ve ever felt the phrase ‘walking down memory lane’ to be more accurate. Each turn of the page, each rectangular piece of photo paper tucked beneath its cellophane sleeve really does transport you back in time, and you feel like you’re holding Bradley’s hand while strolling through your memories. You want to steer clear of the dark, gaping hole on his own lane, and to do so, you flip to his twenty-first birthday photo.

It’s not one that your parents had taken; they don’t know it exists. Bradley’s crouched beneath you as you spit a shot into his mouth, probably spilling some onto the gray fabric of his t-shirt. You had still technically been twenty at the time, and you’d had his birthday party at your mutual friends’ apartment, with much less strict of a bouncer than the one at the bar. You’d both gotten hammered that night, and he doesn’t remember much, but Bradley can confidently say no one else got their shots by drinking them out of your mouth.

“That was hot,” Bradley informs you, “We should do that again soon.”

“Yeah, I don’t think concussions and alcohol mix,” You scoff, knocking your head against his own, “Ease up on the booze, Brad.”

“Oh, you’re such a worrier,” He teases, knowing full well you’re correct, “Look, there’s graduation.”

The college photo of you two is printed smaller here, and if you were an artist, you could draw it from memory. Every detail, the sprig of grass stuck to Bradley’s left sleeve, the slight squint to your eyes from the sun, everything is memorable because you’ve stared at it so many times. 

“This is the one I keep under your pillow when you’re deployed,” You admit in a soft murmur, “It’s my favorite.”

Bradley means to respond to that, he really does. But there’s nothing he can think of saying that would be sufficient, nothing that could possibly convey the love and adoration he feels for you. Nothing that could tell you how lucky he is to love you, and to have been loved by you for all these years. And how terrified he is to lose you. The word deployment strikes a sour chord in his chest, and all of a sudden he’s wondering how he ever left you in the first place. Being at home while you were at the grocery store sent him into a spiral, he doesn’t know how he ever made it months without seeing you, hearing you, holding you.

“You gave up the Naval Academy for me,” You recall when he doesn’t respond, your voice quivering like a thin rope stretched tight, “I told you I was scared to go by myself, that I'd miss you, and you withheld your application from the academy. For me. Brad, you gave up your dream for me.”

It doesn’t take him any time at all to respond this time around, because the answer is easy and honest: “That’s not true. You were my dream, angel. You still are.”

“Brad,” Your face crumples, and you have to bury your face in his shoulder to withhold a sob. You clutch at the fabric of his shirt sleeve, heaving a heavy sigh once you’ve collected yourself, “I love you, Bradley. I- I want to fill out the rest of this book with you,” You reach for the pages, sticking your thumb into the spot between them where the album goes thin. You flip to the empty pages, “I want to sit in a home with you and stuff this book full with pictures of us all old and gray.” You sniffle, “I want to be with you forever, I- I want our grandchildren- no, our great-grandchildren to take the last pictures in this book,” You blubber, “I- I just love you so much.”

I love you.

I want to fill out the rest of this book with you.

I want to be with you forever.

I love you so much.

He hadn’t planned on rushing it. He wanted to draw it out, spend the next few days, weeks even, showing you how loved you are, and hoping you crawl out of your shell again, reciprocate the way you used to. But he can’t wait anymore, not now that you’ve told him you’re in this for life.

“Sweetheart,” Bradley gropes for the first drawer of his dresser with a blind, frantic hand. He locates the ring in no time flat, his other arm nearly crushing you into his side as he yanks the jewelry free of the sock it had been hidden under. He shoves it towards you, unceremonious, rushed, and messy, but with all the tender sweetness in his heart:  “Y/N- Marry me?”

just a reminder in case you didn't read my author's note: life got in the way and I wasn't able to include their big talk in this part, but i've just extended it to a fourth part that will be posted next week! i'm sorry to keep you waiting longer, some very heavy stuff has gone on in my life lately and it was very hard to work on this. i hope you enjoyed, and i hope you understand! i'm sorry again for not finishing it when i said i would </3 buttt did you see the plot twist coming? i'm eager to hear what you think >:))))

feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!

[wttcsms]

grumpy tenured professor Naoya x new, sunshine-y associate professor reader !!

lessons in intimacy, naoya zenin ;

pairing naoya zenin x f!reader word count 4.5k synopsis naoya zenin, phd, still has a lot to learn, and you are a surprisingly good teacher content contains fluff!!!, academia au, and they were office roomies!, naoya-centric, he bashes the arts </3

Learning Objective One: Notice Things About Your Partner

Naoya Zenin stares at the heart-shaped cake you left on his desk and refrains from going absolutely batshit. 

He can feel the pinpricks of irritation poking his insides, making him curl his hands in annoyance. Two weeks prior, there was a staff meeting informing the business school that they would be sharing their classrooms and offices with the English professors since apparently, due to poor plumbing and a lack of funding, their shack of a school building got flooded and was therefore deemed “unsafe” and “unusable.”

Naoya distinctly remembers making a snide comment about how majoring in something as worthless as English or literature should be deemed a safety hazard and that the degree is basically unusable. Maybe this is the universe’s way of telling everyone in the school to get a grip and let the entire English department just float away into a nearby swamp. 

The business professors all agreed and considering that all of their students end up becoming wealthy alumni who donate money to ensure that their buildings don’t go under, Naoya doesn’t care about the enraged comments from the English department. 

All his rude remarks seem to ensure that he’ll be left alone, which is exactly how he likes to be. It seems that he’s the most hated business school professor and no one is willing to share a space with him. 

Because you are the youngest and newest member of the faculty, you end up being the unfortunate soul paired up with Naoya Zenin, PhD. When you first step into the office, big box filled with your printed lesson plans and desk supplies, he refuses to lend you a hand.

Instead, he sits back in his seat, staring at you with such an intense look in his eyes that you decide to look at anything but him, and he watches you struggle to maneuver around the tight space. Because of the funding, the business school offices are spacious, but to maintain some semblance of privacy, minor renovations were made. Crammed in a corner is a new desk meant for you. If he keeps staring daggers into your very soul, you’re going to make a request to have a room divider put in place so you can cower behind them and avoid his glare.

While your side of the office is small, you make it as unique to yourself as possible. There’s a Cinnamoroll plushie sitting on your desk, a cup holding glittery gel pens, and inside your desk drawers are scratch-‘n-sniff sticker sheets with colorful words of encouragement because the world has already beaten down your students enough — you might as well give them back some of their childhood enjoyment.

Naoya’s desk is vintage mahogany and rarely has anything sitting atop it unless he’s inside the office and on his laptop. Hanging on the wall behind him is his doctoral degree that is forever put on display in a massive, ostentatious frame. Naoya Zenin, PhD from Keio University. Economics, you recall him telling one of his colleagues. Because finance is the poor man’s idea of a prestigious field. 

It doesn’t take a degree to know how Dr. Zenin feels about a degree in the arts.

Upon your first awkward meeting with Naoya (where he let you nearly trip and spill all your meager belongings onto his pristine office’s floors), you immediately head home and look at your new office buddy’s RateMyProf reviews.

⅕ OVERALL QUALITY BASED ON 986 RATINGS | 0% WOULD TAKE AGAIN | 5.0 LEVEL OF DIFFICULTY 

Professor Zenin’s Top Tags

#lotsofhomework 

#getreadytoread

#lectureheavy

#skipclass?youwon’tpass

Review 1: i dropped my econ major because of him. this wasn’t even supposed to be a weeder class

Review 2: DR ZENIN IS THE WORST PROFESSOR FOR ECONOMICS. HE MIGHT BE THE WORST PROFESSOR IN THE BUSINESS SCHOOL. HE MIGHT EVEN BE THE WORST PROFESSOR IN THIS WHOLE DAMN UNIVERSITY!!!!!! DO NOT TAKE HIM! I regret not taking everyone else’s advice and going with Dr. Gojo instead 

Review 3: only redeeming quality is being hot, but he’s still an asshole

Review 4: Misogynist, doesn’t believe women can be leaders in the business world, has God awful takes that literally no one sane would agree with, teaches what HE thinks is right and refuses to acknowledge any opposing viewpoints, talks down on students, and that’s all i can say about him from the TWO DAYS i attended his class. i immediately dropped his course LOL 

Review 5: Dr. Zenin’s rigorous coursework and unforgiving grading has prepared me for graduate school, and I still believe all the courses I had with him provided me with a better foundation than my other peers in my doctoral program. However, he did make my undergrad experience a miserable one. His lectures are hard to follow at times, and he creates his exams with the intent of making it unpassable. He’s the professor that you wonder why he hasn’t been fired yet.

You search for any positive comments about him, but it appears that the students hate everything about him, to his tests, his teaching style, and his personality. 

In all honesty, it’s kind of sad. What must it be like, you wonder, to be so hated by the very students you’re meant to teach and inspire? You’re willing to give Naoya the benefit of the doubt — you know how one student’s misconception against a professor can paint a bad picture overall. Maybe Naoya is just a difficult person to understand! An undercover softie, if you will.

There’s no harm in trying to be friendly with him. After all, the two of you are going to be partners for the foreseeable future. You don’t have the energy to remain constantly on your guard around him. 

You start off with little things, like burning candles in the office to fill it with sweet, welcoming scents. You offer to let him borrow your extension cord so his charger doesn’t have to bend all awkwardly when he plugs in his laptop. You make an effort to ensure that the classroom is clean before his class enters because that’s a courteous thing to do. You notice that when he eats his lunch on campus, he’s always unwrapping a sweet treat afterwards.

You can’t be a truly bad person if you have a sweet tooth, you rationalize. 

So, you bake him little goods and leave them on his desk. When a week goes by and he doesn’t acknowledge your actions but the goods are always gone by the time lunchtime is over, you think you’re making progress. You notice that he seems stressed and annoyed every time he storms into the office, and so you start adding tiny notes of motivation alongside the goods, too.

Written on a pink sticky note that’s in the shape of a heart (probably to match the fucking miniature cake you baked), Naoya’s eye almost starts to twitch as he examines every loop and curve of the letters you personally handwritten for him.

I hope you have a great day today! Look on the bright side, you’re done with all your lectures for the week!

Naoya angrily takes a bite out of the cake as he waits for his laptop to turn on. The sugary sweetness does very little to alleviate his annoyance, but he can begrudgingly admit that the cake is good. Delicious, even. 

This makes his scowl deepen. 

How annoying, he thinks, tossing your note in the trash bin (not having the heart to crumple it up like he used to do with your previous notes). What are you, some kind of a stalker? How is it any of your business to know that Thursdays are his last days for teaching since business schools don’t believe in having class on Friday? And why do you always do that? Saying I hope? 

“I’m not going to tell you what to do, Momo,” he remembers you telling your blonde-haired student. “But I hope you consider sticking with your creative writing major. We’ll lose a very talented student if you choose to go, you know.”

Naoya had let out a little snort of amusement at this. Who the fuck cares about whether or not students drop out? If they can’t handle the coursework, clearly they’re not cut out for the real world. He finds it annoying that you practically hold their hands, coddling them, always tacking on an I hope because you don’t want to demand people to do things. So much damn consideration, he wonders how you even survive in this big city. You’re probably the type of person who apologizes when someone else gets in your way at a busy store. You probably let yourself get cut in line. You definitely give money to panhandlers who are only posing as the homeless and needy. 

Naoya wants to take joy in the fact that you are the type of person who could easily be taken advantage of, but as he finishes the cake you made for him, the idea of people purposely giving you a hard time just because you’ll take it lying down makes him feel even more irritated than before.

He takes out his frustration on his students. A first-year student emailed him asking for an extension, so Naoya tells them either they get it done by the original deadline, or he is more than willing to just give them the zero right now. In the real world, your boss and your clients will not give a single shit that you are hospitalized after being hit by a truck. Perhaps, if you used the brain inside your head and the eyes on your face, you would know better than to cross the road when a speeding truck is heading your way. 

Then, he thinks that you would probably gladly give your students an extension if they asked. You’d probably even visit them in the fucking hospital, like the saint you think you are. 

You’re so helpful to the point of your kindness being detrimental to your own wellbeing. You extend deadlines, and then have to beg and plead with the dean and bust your ass to get final grades in by the required date. All that struggle could have been avoided if you just gave the zero. You hear out your students, letting them speak their minds, and it cuts into your lecture time. Nobody is paying tuition to hear another student’s ramblings. And how long does it take you to bake him these desserts? It’s something different every day, always fresh, always seemingly made with care. 

He doesn’t even know how you know he likes sweets. Lucky guess, he tells himself. 

You see, Naoya knows that he is respected (somewhat) and feared (most definitely). He knows that he is not loved, not by his colleagues (who are all intimidated by him), not by his family (who thinks becoming a professor at a prestigious research university is dogshit when he should have been a global economist), not by his students (the university-mandated end-of-the-term class surveys are always sent to him). So to him, despite the ego he presents to the public, he cannot fathom the idea of someone noticing little things about himself. He definitely can’t imagine someone noticing and caring — it would honestly make more sense if they used private information against him. 

He doesn’t think about you noticing him, and he refuses to think about all the things he subconsciously notices about you. He can recognize you by your perfume alone; someone had passed him by in the hall, and his eyes searched for your figure, only to be greeted by a student who just happened to favor the same fragrance as you. (He had snapped at the poor girl, telling her to walk faster or get out of the way.) He’s certain he knows the fucking HTML color code for the specific shade of lipgloss you’re always constantly applying in the office. One time, against his better judgment, he saves the place you’re at in your book. You had fallen asleep at your desk, your finger pressed on the page you were struggling to read, and then your head banged on the desk, hand slipping away. He doesn’t know why he didn’t leave you alone in the office; he had no business staying that late since none of his students were brave enough to turn in any assignments to be graded. There was an on-campus police alert the day before, though. Naoya rationalizes that he just didn’t want any criminals or deviants breaking into his office and destroying it. That’s all.

He actively avoids any thought of you, not realizing the irony of how, in his vehement attempts to ignore your existence, he is very much acknowledging you.

Learning Objective Two: Have Meaningful Conversations With Your Partner

“Why do you do that?” Naoya snaps, breaking the silence in the office. 

Naoya is the type of person who does not simply say things — he snaps, he sneers, he smirks. And he has the exact tonation, voice, manner of speaking, of someone who grew up and was never told to shut the fuck up. With his current position in life, it seems like no one ever will.

“Do what?” You look up from the papers you’re grading, staring at him all doe-eyed and genuinely confused that Naoya discovers the unfortunate fact that he does, actually, possess a heart. An annoying one that gets all tight in his chest and starts beating against his rib cage every time you look at him. He’d charge you with a hospital bill from a top of the line cardiologist, but he knows you get paid like shit in comparison to him. Also, because he doesn’t like the idea of women spending money on his behalf. 

“Give out pity grades.” 

It’s like you’ll do anything in your power to not fail a student. You’re just pulling out participation points straight from your ass! And the comments — don’t get him started on the amount of comments you waste time leaving on your students’ papers. There’s a reason why his grades always get entered before deadlines. He’s efficient. 

“And ruthless.” You tell him, after hearing him tell you all about his “efficiency.” “We’re here to help cultivate their minds. Get them to think. College shouldn’t be about getting grades based on your professor’s mood.” 

Was that somehow an attack on him? He should be annoyed. Instead, he finds this side of you less annoying. 

“I’m always in the same mood every time I grade.” 

“Oh, yeah? And what’s that, vindictive?” You’re teasing him, and he wouldn’t let just anyone get away with such a comment. He’s bored, he tells himself. That’s why he’s entertaining this. Unlike someone, he doesn’t have anything left to grade.

“Nah. Irritated. They’re all idiots.” 

You frown. “No student is an idiot.” 

He gives you a look. “You teach English.”

“Intro to Classic Lit.” You correct him. 

“Right.” He says this slowly. “Idiots.”

“Maybe yours, but definitely not mine.”

“Let's compare our students’ majors and potential earnings after graduation.” 

Now it’s your turn to give him a look. “There’s nothing wrong with pursuing your passions.”

“Great. Do you tell them that when the cashier tells them their card declined? Or, does the passion end up paying the total? Are grocery stores accepting passion as a form of payment now?”

“Don’t be as mean as people say you are.” 

His signature smug air of superiority momentarily dissipates at this statement. It’s not often that someone can get Naoya to shut up. To be bested by someone who grades using pink gel pens is so humbling, the only thing keeping him on his pedestal is the fact that he knows he’s the youngest tenured professor in this whole entire university and an acclaimed researcher (he always makes the list for top five most cited economic researchers). You’re fresh out of a doctoral program, and even being tenure-track would be a pipe dream for you. 

“There’s nothing mean about being honest.” 

“You can be honest without being mean.”

“It’s the truth. Students are idiots.” He shrugs, because what the fuck is he supposed to do about it?

“Then why become a professor?”

“Sweetheart, professors that work here are researchers first, teachers… no, not second. Maybe third? If they’re that dedicated to shaping young minds, or whatever fantasy you’ve got going on.” 

“Well, I believe that the students are here to learn. And before you call them stupid again, that’s the great part about learning. You don’t have to be smart to do it.”

Growing up, Naoya had to be a lot of things, smart being one of them. No one in his household was ever capable of producing an ounce of empathy, and considering all the people he’s been surrounded by since his prep school, university, and internship days have all been raised in similar environments. The world is unforgiving. Naoya lives by the ever-so-poetic motto of “sucks to suck.” 

He will go home and lay in bed and stare at the crown molding on his ceiling, and he will recall your sunny disposition. He wants to shame and berate you for being so damn optimistic, for believing in those words, and he will think to himself wouldn’t it be nice for it to be true? 

Instead, right now, all he does is huff. The truth is, Naoya is well aware that his students aren’t stupid, even if he tells them that they are every time they’re in class and every time they dare to come to his office hours to debate their grades. They aren’t stupid in the booksmart sense, but they are very dumb when it comes to the real world, and Naoya considers it a ruthless kind of mercy that he exacts on them. They’re idiots because they have all the potential in the world and would rather waste their time on stupid shit and procrastinate on their assignments instead of putting forth any real effort. 

If they tried, he would give them an A. 

Learning Objective Three: Be Specific and Sincere With Your Praise

You’re crying.

In his head, Naoya tries to force himself to roll his eyes but finds his body unwilling to comply with the demands of his mind. He’s annoyed, but the irritation isn’t directed at you.

It’s at the man sitting across from you. Dr. Kimura got his PhD from Cambridge and thinks he’s hot shit, but out of pure curiosity, Naoya found his dissertation online and still uses it as free melatonin. Two paragraphs in knocks him out faster than a whole bottle of sleeping pills.

Dr. Kimura asks him to leave, into which Naoya reminds him that this is technically his office, and that Dr. Kimura is an intruder. Too much time spent with you in such a confined space has some of your little lessons rubbing off on him. Words are so important to you. Naoya decides that visitor and guest are too kind, too euphemistic, for Dr. Kimura. Call it like it is. 

Kimura’s business for being here is to give you your first ever teaching evaluation. It’s actually just a poorly disguised attempt at trying to lowball professors’ salaries, but this is the type of schtick that only works on pushovers like you. Naoya leans back in his desk chair, arms crossed, and it’s obvious that he is going to be listening in on the whole entire ordeal. You’re embarrassed to be put on display like this, not knowing that he isn’t here to scrutinize you (for once), but rather he’s your backup. 

Before things take a turn for the worse, you’re actually all smiles and sunshines and rainbows. 

Stop smiling at him, Naoya thinks. He hates your smile. Hates it the most when it’s directed towards anyone but him.

Kimura begins with a compliment. That’s how all the professors in the arts are taught. Compliment sandwich! Praise, constructive criticism, more praise! What a fucking joke. Naoya thinks his way of handling things is much more efficient. Talk about all the stuff they need improvement on, and whatever isn’t corrected clearly is okay. Don’t you people know how to read in between the lines? Context clues ring any bells? Fuck, what did you all go to school for?

Disaster strikes, just as Naoya predicts. 

“Listen, we know that this is your first year of teaching, and you’re still getting settled into your role of professor and not student, but clearly there’s some leniency when it comes to your grading…” 

Kimura’s listing all sorts of shit. Grade inflation is what he claims one second, next he’s claiming you have subjective grading criteria. No other Intro to Classic Literature course has a similar class average to yours. 

Kimura shakes his head, like he’s disappointed in you. Another tactic that would only work on someone as sweet as you. 

“If this continues to be an issue, we may have to reconsider renewing your contract.”

And there are those waterworks Naoya is expecting. 

The thing is, Naoya knows a bully when he sees one. Naoya knows all about being cruel just for the sake of being cruel. As cold, shriveled up, and worthless as it seems, Naoya does have a heart. 

“That’s bullshit.” He inserts himself into the conversation. You’re staring down at your lap, twiddling with your fingers. Kimura turns to look at him.

“This is a private matter—”

“If it was private, you would have done it in your own office instead of mine.” 

“This is a matter that concerns the English department, not yours, Dr. Zenin.” 

He’s right. And yet—

“Have you even read any of her students’ papers?” 

—Naoya is your backup. 

“How is this relevant?” 

“Read their papers. Read their first one versus their most recent one. Hell, read every single essay a student has turned in over the course. I guarantee you they deserve the marks she’s given them.” 

“Their papers are filled with corrections and questions, and yet, she gives them an A.” Kimura knows all about Naoya’s reputation. He’s infamous. He’s the reason why everyone’s scared of majoring in economics. Naoya Zenin is the toughest grader there is.

“I’ve seen the mental state of your department’s students. She’s doing them a favor by not crushing them.” 

“You’re saying they deserve those grades?”

“She lets them redo all their papers within a reasonable period of time and grades based on the overall improvement.” Naoya shrugs, like it’s just that simple. “I don’t see an issue.”

“She’s manipulating grades.”

“She’s giving them a second chance. I personally find that to be admirable.” Naoya is not lying. This is what makes you look up. “And she cares. I think she’s the only one of your faculty who gives a damn about whether her students are learning or not.” 

Naoya doesn’t hate a lot of things because he doesn’t like giving certain things so much special attention, but he does dislike insincere people. People like Kimura are the worst because they hide behind fake niceties and table manners, but if you peel off their skin, they’re secretly lizards in disguise. At least in Naoya’s case, no one ever has the luxury of being shocked when he says something very mean and unpleasant because he will never filter himself or put on a mask that gives off the vibe that he practices civility. 

As a matter of fact, Naoya has a nasty, serpent-like grin on his face as he locks in on Kimura, caging him in. 

“After all, isn't that the point of becoming a professor, Dr. Kimura?”

Gotcha, you slimy bastard.

Learning Objective Four: Be Vulnerable, Put Yourself Out There

“Would you say I’m an asshole?” Naoya brings this up as he helps you pack up your belongings. He claims that it’s because he can’t wait to have his office all to himself again, but really, he’s starting to realize that lending a helping hand every once in a while can’t hurt. He hisses when a sharp edge from one of the many stacks of paper you possess cuts his finger. 

That’s the last time he’ll ever help someone, he thinks bitterly.

“Not to your face.” You reply back, giving him a grin. He wants to take your smile and store it in a moving box and then keep that box underneath his desk and have it be one of his most prized possessions. 

“Hm.” Then he tells you, “A student called me that.”

“To your face?” You look equal parts shocked, amused, and delighted. It’s a good look. 

“No. RateMyProfessor.” 

“Oh, I think I saw that one. They called you hot, right?” You’re busy packing up your sticker sheets and binders. Naoya wonders if he’s reading too hard into what you’re telling him.

“You’ve seen my reviews?” 

“Of course I did. I looked you up on the Internet the day we became office roomies.” You throw this information out so nonchalantly that Naoya almost feels like he’s the weird one to have a reaction from it. 

“You looked me up on the Internet?” 

“Duh. Naoya, we live in a world where AI is writing essays for students. Of course, I would look you up online.” 

“But why?” He presses you, latches on to the idea that there is a world where someone wants to look him up online and it’s not to find his home address so they can get revenge on him failing them. 

“Because I wanted to know more about you, silly.” 

It would be nice to be known. It’s already nice to have someone who wants to get to know you. Naoya Zenin does not settle in life, but he thinks he could settle for this and be content for the rest of his days.

Of course you would. He would say this, all snarky and egotistical, but he knows better. He won’t have an excuse to see your four times a week, won’t be cooped up in this office with you late in the night, won’t get to smell the remnants of your perfume when he’s up at the podium, lecturing his class. But there’s a chance that he could see you in different settings, too. Getting coffee together in between classes. Sitting next to each other during university-wide faculty meetings. Taking you out to dinner, because he’s reviewed your contract, and he’s not sure how you’re surviving financially. 

“I would like that.” The words come out rushed, all jumbled and smushed together. He’s a grown man. He doesn’t blush. This is what he tells himself when he feels heat rise to his cheeks. “I would like for you to get to know me. And to learn more about you, too.” He swallows. Hard. “I sound stupid, I meant to—”

“It’s okay, Dr. Zenin.” You have the prettiest smile in the world. His dissertation should have been on that. “The fun part about learning is that you can still do it, even when you’re being stupid.” 

[becomingthatgirl111]

stop comparing yourself

i have been dealing with this for years. somehow i think we are programmed to think that the other person is better than us, in whatever aspect and we end up putting ourselves down and this is due to lack of self-esteem.

the reality is that it's all about perspective. you may think that the other person is much smarter, prettier or whatever better than you, but that person may have a totally different perspective of themselves and see those qualities that you admire in them in others. that's why it's an absurd reason to compare yourself to other people.

another reason why we should stop doing it is because it doesn't help us to improve ourselves because as i have already mentioned it makes us feel inferior to others and if we want to be our best version we have to stop doing it and focus on ourselves.

it is not worth comparing yourself with other people because everyone lives their own life and you don't know what that person has gone through to get to the point where they are now and you are also capable of achieving it. the only thing that prevents you from doing it is yourself and your negative thoughts about yourself.

negative thoughts can be changed by identifying them and not paying attention to them. at the beginning, it seems a complicated task but when your ideas have started to change and you have another mentality it is easier to do it. every time you compare yourself to yourself use the affirmation "i accept and approve of myself" say this repeatedly in your head until those thoughts go away. try it.

it is also important to recognize since when you compare yourself and why you do it. maybe it was a behavior you learned as a child, your parents or someone made you do it, maybe you tend to be very perfectionist with yourself. but all this comes from a lack of love in ourselves and when we identify it, it will be much easier to start the healing process.

it doesn't matter how other people are, if it helps you, take them as inspiration but the important thing here is to focus on yourself.

so my tips would be:

recognize when you feel this way and why.

write down how you would like to feel about this situation, if necessary also write down how it makes you feel every time you compare yourself to someone else and what you think about yourself at these moments.

every time you have a negative thought about yourself repeat the affirmation "i accept and approve of myself".

do activities that make you feel good and help you connect with the best version of yourself.

read, listen to podcasts, watch videos about personal growth. do research, don't just stick to the basics.

put into practice little by little what you are learning from all this new content that your mind is absorbing.

talk to yourself beautifully in front of the mirror, it can be that same affirmation or meditate in front of the mirror with a video of positive affirmations.

stop paying so much attention to other people's lives and focus on your own.

[ivesambrose]

July 2024 Mini Messages

1. 2. 3.

Half way done already... Damn.

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Picture 1

The desire to travel, to learn and to focus on a spiritual practice. You may have had been self sacrificial for quite some time but now you want to leave that behind for an adventure of your own. It'll happen. Your dreams will guide you, quite literally. Pay attention to them and the places or cities or towns you feel drawn to.

Some of you might find solace in long walks be it outside or simply pacing around in your room with music on. You need some quiet time away from projections of others mindsets. There's an opportunity that will come through which will allow you to bring in new experiences and people into your life. You'll feel grateful that you've crossed your ways with them. However, I do see some of you being reluctant in opening up fully or letting good things happening for you due to fear of being hurt or simply cuz you're not used to things like that given your experiences. But there's hope, there's a reason to heal and there's certainly every reason to release what you no longer want to hold on to anymore.

A good month to simply find some balance within instead of feeling pulled towards extremes.

Additionally, if you've been grieving over something that didn't work out at some point. Know that something much better is on it's way for you. It'll take you somewhere you'd much rather be.

You can also look forward to finding the silver lining you had been hoping for. It's doesn't always have to be like this.

Picture 2

You can certainly look forward to a complete 180 when it comes to your financial situation. Likely the past couple of months may have felt like you've been lacking proper resources or some of you may have even felt like you've been downright struggling even in matters in regards to health. You have had help or your needs met but you've still felt isolated and maybe even cast out. Perhaps you've felt as though you do not belong where you're currently at and you're constantly trying to be something you're not.

Regardless of your circumstances, you've endured and remained determined.

Prepare yourself for a drastic change. A release and renewal. Regardless of you preparing for it, it will come through inevitably. It'll feel like an answered prayer so I remind you to extend gratitude for whatever you have so far and whatever that will be coming into your life.

A lot of you will be happily working towards something that makes you emotionally content. You will gradually perfect or get better at this over time. I also see acclaim in regards to someone's craft or services. For some I see a very tedious decade long chapter finally closing out. You've gotten your wisdom, it's time to apply that for what's to come.

With the money or resources flowing in, be mindful to invest, spend and save accordingly. You'll make new connections this month as well but choose your circle wisely. The more you indulge in art or things that you're passionate about the more harmony and luck you draw into your life. The smoother things fall in place. Focus solely on that instead of rumminating on how to make things happen. You'll be guided on your own.

Picture 3

Immense talent and capability. But when will you claim it? If not now then when? Lucky for you, you're finding your voice and assertiveness this month. For some of you I see rewards or gains from something that you have been focusing on the side. Some of you might also get a sudden bonus at work.

There might be some competition this month however or people trying to pick fights with you over petty matters. Try not to rush things this month either you'll be compelled to slow down either way. You'll also be compelled to drop a particular mindset this month too. Any change you wish to see around you needs to come from within first, it might be a hard fact to swallow but you must accept it. It's like sometimes you're too much in your head but you don't make it a comfortable place for yourself when you should at least try to.

This month will also remind you that regardless of what you've been told and what you've endured, you're not a victim to your circumstances. There's always a way out.

A lot of you might consider doing a sport or building up physical strength as well. Keep your head cool. Take care of your heart and back. Do consider meditation or deep breathing excersises. Genuinely avoid situations that get you agitated for no reason. Channel your aggression towards your goals and know that no one can take your persistence and your rewards away from you.

[mooniety]

susie become egg. wonder what the yolk is made out of.

anyways, guys look it's mechanized susie "The Secretary"!!!!!!!!!!

CONTENT WARNING: Below the cut is a description of her which contains body horror & minor mentions of gore.

after kirby fails to defeat star dream, star dream decides to immediately mechanize susie before she can escape, recognizing that without her direction, it won't be able to successfully achieve its goal in creating what it deems the perfect universe

thus susie--or i should say, what remains of her--is now confined in a body that lacks any & all autonomy besides being able to still somewhat if barely move, the ability to see, hear, & speak (as seen by the lens & mic/speaker right below her head where her neck is), can call for mecha knight (who has been unfortunately remechanized) as her only form of protection, & can do...whatever the bottom right hand corner is.

this new body is designed to have her "eyes" appear permanently closed, showcasing her involuntary submission to star dream & in a way, loss of all mortal sight, trading it in for the possession of knowledge that she shouldn't have had in the first place as well as now see the entire universe...'s destruction first hand‼️‼️‼️💯💯💯🔥🔥🔥

but most importantly of all, she has CAT EARS‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️ (they were supposed to be alarm clock ears but the intrusive thoughts won 😭) don't worry though, as you can see on the bottom right, she can...remove them :)

despite being able to open her head to reveal her core (as shown in bottom right), the process is SLOW & EXTREMELY PAINFUL with no sense of relief until star dream puts her core into a new body or someone destroys it. while she's in this vulnerable state, her body is set to automatically cry to draw in sympathy as a last ditch effort from star dream if all else fails

her core was designed to look like a cartridge from made in abyss duct taped onto an iv drip stand, & if you know what a cartridge from made in abyss is then you already know what's inside: it's where all her main or i should say remaining organs are located.

furthermore, it's near impossible for someone else to crack her open due to her body being entirely being made out of haltonium--intentionally designed to be an indestructible cage for her

& if susie, star dream, or mk senses that someone's going to attempt to destroy her, mk is obligated to prevent that from happening via fighting & executing them, even if he doesn't want to (& clearly, susie doesn't want him to do so either)

the reason why she has no one (not even the haltworkers) besides mk & maybe star dream as a form of protection is because she's typically locked her away in a hidden area of the access ark, the idea was to make her a princess locked away in a tower with no one but her noble knight in shining armor to "protect" her --unfortunately it seems that this knight is technically also on the side of her captor lol

anyways this entire thing is about how susie isn't really vibing with existence now that her father's dead, she's been turned into a useless machine stripped of all autonomy whose only purpose is to peer edit & approve plans of destroying the world as well as unconsensually watch & partake in the entire destruction of the universe until something is able to confront this monster of a supercomputer YAHOOOOOOOO‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️💯💯💯💯💯💯💯

[sesshous]

random dating hcs ᰔ mona, alhaitham, gaming

genre: fluff (no prns)

a/n: dating headcanons... drabbles... blurbs (not rly sure what to call these) also mona in the new cat event!! i love mona, she was the first five star i ever wanted and the first one i ever got, so i'm happy she's at least getting some more screentime haha ♡

mona

mona isn’t the most… responsible with her money. while she does have money set aside, the vast majority of her income goes to her life’s interest: astrology. but even with her lack of money, mona still wants to do things with you! … just without a hefty price tag.

mona loves to stargaze — befitting of an astrologist. she loves taking you around different heights of mondstadt! mona knows all the best spots that have a good view of the night sky — pointing out all the constellations, rambling on to you about what they mean… she’ll even make some copies of her own star charts to give you for future reference.

not really a known fact about her, but mona is actually a pretty decent cook! she'd want to prepare you a filling (and cheap), but very delicious meal rather than go out to eat. sometimes, she’ll end up lecturing you on market prices and ways you can prepare meals for a low cost — she wouldn’t want you buying overpriced ingredients when you can get just as good ones for a cheaper price!

and yes, if you ask her nicely she can create and show you reflections other than constellations with her hydromancy… just for you though. she wouldn’t want people to think her hydromancy is all just for show.

(brownie points if you share the same interest in astrology. you’re basically a match at that point.)

“hm? of course, i knew we were destined to be together — the stars never lie.”

gaming

the absolute sweetest! with how much he talks about you, people of liyue have to be living under a rock if they don’t know the two of you are together.

no has no shame with pda gaming will want to hold your hand everywhere you go. or have his arm around you. or hug you — he literally never gets embarrassed about giving you affection! he’s very into physical touch, he finds it’s comforting. i’d like to think he’s warm to the touch too — with or without the pyro vision. great cuddling material for cold days! (… hot ones too — you just have to wear breathable clothes so you don’t overheat.)

you don’t have to be into it as much as he is, but gaming would definitely want to teach you the basics of wushou dancing! he’s always there to help show and guide you through the movements — he likes to think he’s a pretty good teacher! he'll joke about putting on a duo performance… just a joke of course, haha… unless—?

oh, and man chai loves you! i like to think man chai acts more well behaved for you than he does with gaming, (he blames it on all the treats you give him) but he’s so glad you too get along! … even if man chai does steal take more of your attention when you’re together...

“y’know, i'm starting to think man chai likes you way more than he likes me! … but it's you, so i don’t blame him though, haha!”

alhaitham

alhaitham as quite the reputation for being… unapproachable to say the least. to people, his words and gaze seems judgemental, so how could someone stand to be around someone like that? lucky for you, you're able see past what those people seemingly think of him!

the books alhaitham reads aren’t made for the average’s person leisurely reading — their complex and lengthy — but alhaitham feels a kind of… fondness when you ask him to read out loud whatever book he's currently reading to you! …even if you do end up becoming a bit sleepy due to the content of the book (he thinks it’s cute. will he say that to you? … maybe teasingly.) he also will read and take book suggestions from you if you have any for him! he doesn’t just read non-fiction (and if it’s from you, really he’s open to anything. anything.)

because of alhaitham’s day consisting pretty much on a schedule, he finds himself finding ways to incorporate you into it with his free time. he prefers to spend time with you in more quiet and secluded places around sumeru away from people, but i actually feel like he wouldn’t be opposed to dates in public! going to the likes of places such as the grand bazaar to see what people are selling or watching performances that are put on in the theatre (though most of the time it’s you dragging him out… he does find it entertaining to see your face light up at all of the sights)

on some occasions, he’ll bring you along with him when he’s invited out for drinks with cyno, kaveh and tighnari. (try your best to tease him in front of them, but he’ll always have a playful quip right back at you.)

"really? because sometimes i think you love using me more as a pillow than an actual boyfriend. i’m only joking dear, i love you too.”