#miles is living the life they will never have

[venmondiese]

MELT AN IGLOO

-ˋˏ| summary: Summer in the south makes the temperature go high, so when your friends say that their cousin's house has a pool, you'll take the chance to refresh yourself... and maybe do more.

✧ | Pairing: Modern!Aemond Targaryen x reader

✧ | word count: 5.8k

✧ | Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, age gap (reader is 20, aemond is 27), P in V sex, Oral sex (F receiving), creampie, reader is a menance... aemond is a perv.

✧ | notes: based on Igloo by Kiss of Life

Summer was the time of the year where you shined. 

College in Old town was a good option, and you made tons of new friends, including Baela and Rhaena, both twins with different majors. Rhaena studied arts while Baela studied Literature. Though you studied the same thing as Baela, you and Rhaena had more in common. 

You two liked flirting, and giggled when you got a new crush. You were young, and a bit stupid. Whatever, you just turned twenty and life was barely starting with an intense feeling of juvenile freedom. 

While Rhaena settled more for relationships, you were more into casual things. You never paid in clubs as most guys would invite rounds of drinks for you and your friends, and you surely rewarded that behaviour. You got rides from men when you went to parties, and some times, you’d go out on dates. Your friends always joked that you never lacked Vitamin D.

You were from the North, and so the south provided you with more freedom, thanks to you being completely on your own and not on the judging eyes of your surroundings, no one knew you in Old Town. The restrictions previously provided felt something far away now, as your life was different. 

With that, something annoyed that came along with living in the South was the weather. You almost forgot that Old town was so near to Dorne, and the heat was unbelievable.  The hot weather every fucking day, and you couldn’t escape it. No matter what you did, it was impossible to stay away from it. 

Since Rhaena and Baela lived in the same complex of apartments (provided by the university) that you, you three got together to discuss what to do:

Go to the beach. Natural decision, since Old town has beautiful beaches and clear water, and the docks were beautiful. That’s the main issue, if you didn’t get in the right time, all of them where full. 

Install Air Conditioning in your rooms. No, too expensive. 

Go to one of the water parks. It was madly expensive for them to be full of people. }

Go to one of your friend’s apartments that had a pool for the residents. At first it was cool; you went and had a great time. But after a while, it was starting to look as if you three were taking advantage of it. 

After those infallible four ideas, and a week full of high temperatures Rhaena and Baela got an idea. Even if they were raised and bred from one of the most prestigious and rich families, their parents wouldn’t just gift them an apartment, so they rely on the one provided by the scholarship in college. And their family was miles away…

Except their cousin. 

You weren’t exactly sure of their relationship with this cousin of theirs, since they were open about other family members, always with a fond tone. The only thing you had heard is “He is our cousin who lives here in Old Town” and that’s all. 

The background information they give you is that he is twenty seven, finishing his doctorate and giving classes about Valyrian culture or Philosophy in the faculty. When you asked them why they didn’t live with him, they just shrugged and said that he was kind of a lonely dude and they weren’t that close. 

“And he is okay with us… going to his house to use the pool” you say as you three are on the uber to get to the house of this mysterious cousin of theirs.

“I meaaaan…” Rhaena says “We have the key to his place; he gave it to us in case of emergencies.”

“Valid reason. Dying of heat seems like an emergency to me” you shrugged. 

“And besides, we bring ice cream, beer and we bought him a red velvet cake to bribe him” Baela adds with a confident nod. “Just straight out to the pool, and no getting into his stuff and we’ll be okay”

“And he doesn’t have like a… girlfriend” You ask amused. “If you aren’t close, she might think we are robbing the house”

“Yeah, right” Baela chuckles, her eyebrows rising playfully “As if we would steal in our swimsuits”

“Besides he isn’t dating. He isn’t married either”

“I thought you said this dude is old” 

“Twenty six is old but not old old” Rhaena objects, almost meekly.

“We are not going over the Corwyn thing again. He is sixteen years older than you!” Baela reminds her twin

“I am with Garmund now, duh”

The conversation dies when the uber informs you that you have arrived at the sector of Houses where their cousin lives. Even if Rhaena and Baela take some time trying to figure out which key is it to open the house, after a while you were in. 

The house was as if come out of stock. It had some sober colours and one fine painting, but if your friends hadn’t told you otherwise, you would think no one lived here.

As Baela sets the food in the fridge, Rhaena moves the sliding door to the pool. “Nice… I never thought his yard would look this modern.”

“Why?” You ask, setting your thing in one of the chairs nearby as you take off your dress. 

“He is such a nerd for ancient Valyrian stuff. I figured his house had the same style.” 

At least the first hour was calm and at peace. Baela had music at a fair low volume, as you three swam and hanged around, using the floats that the twins brought along, since they were 99% sure that his cousin didn’t have anything fun, like a Bluetooth speaker, floats for the pool or ice cream. 

You weren’t a big fan of beer, not like Baela was, at least. Rhaena and you liked more sweet flavours, but you weren’t going to be picky in this situation. You chat all the time, as you take sun in the reclining chair that was in the yard. Rhaena speaks about her new relationship with Garmund, about meeting his family and her dad’s reaction. Baela instead tells you about her friends of her career, who were clinically insane. 

When it was your turn to speak, the twins’ cousin comes home. 

“I believe I told you the key was for emergencies” He says in an annoyed tone as he turns off the speaker. He was wearing a suit (in this heat…) and you noticed the scar on his left eye. “And it was to keep your mother not freaking out about you two being alone in this part of the continent.”

“Aemond, we are sorry, but it is so hot! We needed somewhere to hang out” Rhaena says, standing up. She was wearing a pink swimsuit, and her hair was beautifully braided. “You wouldn’t have let us come here without an excuse”

“You are right, I wouldn’t” he says crossing his arms. He would obviously refuse. “And why is your little friend here?” He asks raising one eyebrow upon seeing you. 

“Oh, come on, she is our closest friend” Rhaena says. “We won’t trash anything. We won’t put loud music, we won’t enter the house while wet… please, cousin!”

“You are our only family here” Baela adds, not quite begging as Rhaena, but still. “We bought you beers…, and ice cream…. and red velvet… we know you like it”

You see as Aemond roll his eyes. You sit up, pulling your glasses to your head to look at him better. He was hot. Hot with bold, capital letters. He was HOT. He had the same Valyrian features than the twins, but his were sharper and much more distinctive. He wore black and white even in a day this hot and that was commitment, to which you thanked because he looked hotter in a suit and tie. 

He also looked older than you three, obviously, he was six years older than the twins, and seem more mature and serious, if anything a bit stoic and cold, but God damn you if it didn’t make him more attractive. You wanted this man. You wanted this man bad. 

“Fine. You can stay” He agrees reluctantly, a hand on his forehead as a disappointed dad would. Fuck, he is so hot “Don’t do anything stupid. No destroying my house, no destroying my pool, no getting drunk. Am I clear?”

“Yes” both twins say under their breath. 

“And control that little friend of yours” He orders before stepping back inside, leaving you three to it. 

Baela and Rhaena sit by your side, on the other chairs as they sigh. 

“You didn’t mention your cousin was hot” it’s the first thing that comes out of your mouth. 

“Ewww” Baela says scrunching her face. “It’s our cousin!” She says, low so he can’t eavesdrop. “And he is old”

“You say he wasn’t old old” 

“He isn’t that old, Baela”

“Come on, he is Aemond. The guy who used to bring his lizard pet in all family functions, I have never seen him with a girl except with that weird aunt that Jace has… still, never brought her to family functions”

“Yeah, like he is�� okay, I guess, but I don’t think a pretty girl like you can take Aemond’s… personality so lightly”

“Yeah, and he looks like he has the weirdest kinks possible”

“He is still hot to me” You say playfully. “Come on. Look. Let’s say… I manage to fuck him” You start your chat, and Baela makes a disgusted sound, but you ignore it “Then he’ll let us use the pool more often. Problem solved, everyone happy”

“You think Aemond would be up for that? Not to be on Baela’s side but Aemond is a bit…” Rhaena leans to whisper the last part. “Cold. Like an igloo… or an Iceberg”

“A man that has sex with you won’t miss a chance to see you with little clothes.” You say it as if reciting wise words. “I lose nothing trying.”

“We might lose the access to this house, mind you” Rhaena says amused. 

“Come on, we’ll even invite Garmund. Isn’t he like Aemond’s cousin?” you ask her.

“Yeah”

“Well, then. I am fucking that man” 

With that, you stand, wrapping a sarong around your hip, and put on your sandals in quite a confident mood as you her Rhaena say to her sister.

“I sure hope the house have thick walls”

You give them a wink before you walk inside. You were pretty dry thanks to the sun, and you usually didn’t swim a lot. Your hair was in a messy bun, slightly wet with some messy strands. 

You want this Aemond guy. You like him. He has that aura of mystery that you like in a man. You liked cold men; they usually were the most sexually frustrated, and therefore, a great fuck, in your opinion.

“Oh, hey...” You say softly, looking at him, sitting on the couch as he held the computer on his lap, a hand resting on his mouth as he was focused on reading some work related stuff or something. “Do you mind if I have a beer…?” you ask nonchalantly. 

“Help yourself” he says dryly, not moving his gaze from the lecture on his computer. “Beer’s on the fridge”

You went to the fridge, and took two cold beers. You silently prayed to get that dick. 

“I brought you one, if you wanted…” You say softly, extending one to him pretending to be clueless.

“I don’t like beer”

“Oh…”

“I’ll have it anyways, darling’.” He says, finally moving his gaze away from the computer. 

He takes a sip, and before he can throw you out to the yard, you say. “I am sorry to… invade your home” 

“It’s fine” He murmurs, turning his eyes to observe you. You do not know what is it that his mind thinks, but you can see his eyes moving along your body, even if they are subtle. “How long have you been their friend?”

“Quite a while, now. Maybe… like two years?”

He nods softly. He isn’t chatty or open. But he doesn’t make you leave either. 

“Are you anything like them?” You look at him with a confused expression, to which he chuckles lowly. “As immature, I mean”

“I am mature for my age, I have been told”

“Oh, so you have, Hun…” He says amused, watching something on the screen of his computer. 

“But, I am like them, I guess. Me and Rhaena are twins” you say smirking proudly. You loved matching with her, clothes, music, sometimes you would make out with a dude and her with his twin. It was great.

“Let me guess, you are into pink, and men just thinks you are so pretty” He says in a mocking tone as he types some things on his computer. It seems effortless to focus at two things in the same time when you are Aemond Targaryen. 

“Well, they do. And I think I am” you say sitting slightly on the armrest of the chair, holding the still closed beer bottle in your hands.

Aemond raises an eyebrow as he types a bit more, and once he finishes, his gaze turns up to see you. He seems…intrigued. Looking at you as if you were a foreign creature on his territory, which, to be fair, you are. 

Yet there is something else on his gaze, which you can with certainty say that it’s lust. When he sees you, as if judging for himself, you think what your next step should be. You look at him with the same intensity, and also sharing the same feelings. He was hot, and totally your type. You liked serious guys, who wore suits and seem over your shit. It was hot, and it made you horny. Sometimes guys were following you around like puppies, but this… Coldness was much more exciting. 

“Well, yes. You are pretty”

“Thank you.” You say simply, seeing how he accomodates the laptop on his lap, his jaw tense. “You are handsome yourself”

“You should get back to your friends before they come inside, all soaking from the pool”

“Oh, they know I am here” you say shrugging, looking intently at him.

“Well, aren’t you a clever girl” 

There was an implication about his tone, the way his hungry gaze looks at you as he closes his laptop. Could you really have made it? You don’t believe it. 

He stands up, his beer almost empty, and he walks past you as he holds it out for you. “Finish it, if you want.”

Perhaps it was a test, as you were still holding your own cold beer bottle. Damn, you don’t even like beer that much. It is a bit bitter, and it leaves the taste on your tongue far too long for your taste. Still, you do not care for that. Whatever, fuck the taste. You grab the beer with a faint, almost too taken aback to come up with something witty or even remotely seductive. 

He goes to his kitchen, and you can see him check the window, to see Baela and Rhaena, probably, before opening his fridge. The open kitchen allowed you to see his every movements as you drink the beer, letting it past without a second  thought, the faster, the better; so the taste isn’t impregnated on your tongue. 

“You have a girlfriend?” you ask, trying to sound disinterested and innocent enough.

“Ha, now you are being cheeky” he mutters closing his fridge leaving the food on the countertop.

“I am just curious…” You say standing up, and walking towards the kitchen. He is half amused, as he scoffs. 

“I don’t.”

“Oh. Good...”

He doesn’t answer. 

You aren’t a silly girl, as most men think you are. You just like to play around, and ‘use them for evil’ as you colourfully put it. And besides, most men that were interested in you were older. You are in pubs, bars and parties. Beaches, and in the houses of your friends, enjoying the parties. You simply don’t go unnoticed, and you don’t mind that, even if men older than you, by more than ten years, approach you with a different pick up line and practically an imminent erection. 

You can’t deny the attention, of course. With Aemond is no different, but this time is you the one approaching him, trying by any way to manage to melt his icy facade, the one who lets out all of his carnal, primitive desires. It seems as his stoicism is stopping him from doing things he’d enjoy. And with that, anything could be what tips him off the edge. 

“Are you that busy?” You ask as he makes himself a cup of coffee. 

“Nothing I can’t handle, but I haven’t had a moment to myself in days”

You watch him make himself a cup of coffee, as you bit your lip softly. You are getting squirmy, not knowing how to go forward. There is something, he is interested but not quite to take a step. And you don’t know how to push it, should you simply pull the strings of your bikini top and wait for the best? Should you just get in your knees and undo his belt? 

“Look, darling’, no offense, but the last thing I need is a pretty girl hanging around me” He says as he sips his coffee, as he moves from his spot, coffee in hand, probably to go back to his laptop. 

Before he can walk past you, you say. “I think you do need a pretty girl around you”

He stops upon hearing your words, dangerously close to you. You look at him, as if the answer was obvious; and for you, it was. You were practically naked on his kitchen, throwing yourself at him and more than willing to be fucked mercilessly by him, however he wants. You wouldn’t reject it, and you think that he knows that too.

“You think so?” He asks, his gaze turning shamelessly down at your lips, and then at your face as his tone is one of pure smugness.

“Yes. And you have one right here now”

Perhaps he knows he shouldn’t. A friend of his cousins, younger than him… yet even if he thinks that, it does not stop him, not after you have been persistent, trying and following him like a puppy. 

One of his hands finds it was to her hip, pressing her closer to him as he lets himself feel you before capturing your lips in a hungry, sloppy kiss. It wasn’t delicate or gentle, but rather raw and full of need – by both parties. You longed this, and this feel like a sweet reward, your body against his as you two share quite the messy kiss, for god knows how long.

Aemond held you in his arms, a bit possessive, if anything. You liked a possessive man, and in Aemond seem like the perfect trait.  As the kiss stop, you lean to press a little kiss on his jaw, and it only serves for him to wrap one of his arms around your waist. 

You let a little moan of satisfaction as you feel his big hand move down to your ass. Your body is pressed against his, and he wastes no time when his hand starts groping your ass, his breath hits your cold shoulder as you bite your lip. 

Gods, he was so hot. You were so into older dudes, and Aemond was a perfect combination of everything you fancied on a man. 

“You really are a cheeky slut, uh?” Aemond asks his voice sultry as he gropes your ass.

“Yes, sir” you say in a sigh, and his hand moves away to spank you hard on the ass. It made you let out a whimper; it was a delicious sting that you loved. 

“Good” he mutters.

You were too horny, and followed him blindly to his room. You know this will be worth it. A good time, a free pass for his pool for you and the twins… and having a good fuck. 

He closes the door of his bedroom, and he sees you sitting on the feet of his bed. 

“You’ll be the death of me” he says, tsking as he undoes his belt, you take off your sandals quickly as well “You little brat”

You bite your lip as you see him. He is infuriated with you, and part of you wonders how it would be if you were his girlfriend. He’d fuck you in the morning, surely, and at the evening when he gets back from work too. Maybe he’d fuck you at night too. 

He’d probably plan dates just to get to fuck you long and hard afterwards, you hated when men did that. But with him? You didn’t mind.  

“Lay back, doll”

You don’t need to be told twice. When you try to take off your bikini, he stops you. 

“I said, lay back” he says again, sternly. He had that inherent scolding tone, the same he used for Baela and Rhaena when he got home. It made you so wet, it was wicked.

He takes off the sarong, and you look at him, biting your lip. “I’m really horny” you whine.

“Hmm…” he hums, moving his hand from your stomach and higher, pulling the top of your bikini up. You could easily take it off, but with clothes on and open… it was hotter. 

He gropes your tits, as he settles between your legs. He seems to enjoy the view of it as well, as he bites his lip and his breath becomes heavy with uncontrollable lust. 

“You body is perfect, princess. But you know that, hm?” He asks, meeting your gaze as you bite your lip. You nod softly, as if coy of that. “Is your pussy as perfect? Hm?” To your silence, he keeps the lustful tone “Shall we see?”

He holds your calves with one hand, and he doesn’t care about removing the panties of your bikini. He pulls it to the side with his other hand, crouching down to be at the same height of your already wet cunt. Gods, you were so wet for him, it was driving you insane. 

He murmurs something you can’t hear completely, before he leans his head closer to your puffy cunt. You feel his breath, and his tongue is what makes you sigh in delight. His tongue delves into your folds, savouring the taste of you. A little sweet, a little bitter. 

The position makes it all more cramped, yet Aemond moves both of his hands to keep your legs just like that, not so tight together, but still. A groan rumbles on his chest, as he laps consistently at your folds. It’s as if he wanted to take his time, yet he was eager for more of your taste. 

“So wet already” He murmurs, his face separating a bit as he leans back to see your pussy. 

Without missing a beat, his mouth is against your dripping sex, as he delights himself. He is making you let out moans, and some pretty embarrassing sounds. You move one of your hands to your mouth, biting your index finger as if to shush your sounds. 

As Aemond focuses his attention on your clit, it had you rolling your eyes, his mouth around it suckling the nub and his hands spreading your legs further to allow him more access. The twins lied when they pictured him like some kind of hermit, because he knew how to eat a pussy.

His tongue swirls around your clit with too much expertise for him only to have had ‘one casual girlfriend’. His thumb moves to your hole, as if stroking it gently, rubbing circles around it but not pushing it inside yet. 

“Wait...” you moan breathlessly, trying to move your legs away from his from grip. “I don’t wanna cum yet”

You definitely can’t wipe the smirk on his face, as he pulls back. His hands pull your thighs together, then to move his right hand to wipe some remnants of your wetness out of his face. 

“You were the one insinuating yourself to me, princess.”

“Just fuck me, please…” You find yourself asking for it, as you look at him. Aemond simply does not let you move your legs, but you are at his mercy in this.

“Oh, I will” He says, standing up as he runs a hand through his hair, messy from the amount of times he's been running it over it and movements of his head when eating her out. 

He pulls your body closer to his, your hips were resting above a pillow, close to the edge of the bed, and you have to re-accommodate the other pillow under your head. 

Totally a pillow princess, but you do not care. 

Aemond undoes his belt, and pulls out his cock. It’s a nice cock, and you can say that confidently, after seeing tons of different ones. His is nice, a nice girth and big as you like. He is groomed enough, he isn’t hairless, but you notice that he does take care of himself, seeing the pale bush at the base of his cock and to his pelvis. You wanted for him to take out his clothes, but since there were still the twins around, it was a better idea to do it with the clothes on. 

You can see how red the tip already is, leaking and almost asking for relief. How you’d suck that cock, starting by suckling the tip and then deep throat the rest of it, probably gagging and choking in the process. Aemond seems like type who likes a girl gagging on his cock. 

And his balls? You would not neglect them either, you’d have them in your mouth, and making sure they don’t go unattended by either your mouth or your hands. Hell, no part of him would go unattended by you at this point, no after the way he eats pussy.

“Ready, princess?” He asks, his stiff cock pressed on your hole, and you nod softly. “No witty words?”

“You are making fun of me” You say, as he moves your legs to be more pressed against your chest. You feel the head of his cock probing into your folds, teasing you.

“I am not, doll”

“Just fuck me” you say, almost impatient. You were on the edge of your orgasm when he ate you out, and you pushed it away to be able to cum in his cock like you wanted to do when you first saw him. “No need of a condom, I am on the pill since forever”

You don’t really need to pursue him any longer, as he positions himself on your entrance and pushes inside little by little.  He tries to be a gentleman, you can notice, but he is holding back still. By how his grip is more than just to keep your legs firm, is more to keep his control, which little by little he is letting it, slip away.

You know a perv man when you see one. Maybe not your most admissible type, but whatever, everyone has a dirty secret. And maybe this was Aemond’s; you know he is a pervert. You don’t know how, which category… you can’t even think when his cock is pushing inside you in such a delicious way.  You just know it.

By the way once he manages to be deep inside you, and he starts to push back to thrust inside you, and the way he mutters curses under his breath. 

“Feel how deep inside it is, darling?” He asks, his tone strained as he bites his lip. 

You can feel it, alright. And you look at him with half lidded eyes, yet you see how he keeps his groans for himself by biting his lip.

“Fuck me hard” you whisper softly. “Don’t think about it. Just do it.” You say, trying to get him just to lose himself up. 

“You have no idea what you are askin–”

“I know exactly what I am talking” you cut him, your voice strained as you feel his cock.  “You don’t think I am a fragile girl still, do you?” 

His chuckle is low, as if he was annoyed. “There it is. Atta girl”

“And” you say as he moves his hips softly, in and out. Your feet curl at the feeling of his girth sliding through your walls, feeling each movement of his cock. “I want you to cum inside me, and feel your cum dripping out of me. Make me feel you for days.”

That seems to have pushed him over the edge. At least, you hope that it did, because you are eager for it. And in your opinion, it did. 

“You are going to be the death of me” With that, his hips pounds into you like a feral animal. 

That’s what he was, feral. He leans slightly more, his face above yours but still not as intimate as missionary should be. Your legs, still held together by his hand, would be all crampy by tomorrow, and he moves them both over his shoulder. Your left calf is resting against the curve of his neck, while your right one was a bit more stubborn, moving to the pointy bone at the edge of his shoulder. His other hand was at the side of head, as his hips just fuck into you as you requested.

His pounding is brutal, and he barely lets you breathe before he pounds again.  The sound of his balls hitting your flesh is obscene, and it is consistent, yet it made you grip his other shoulder, as you let a series of high moans.

“Ah, ah. Fuck…” you moans are loud, hopefully not so much, and your brow furrows in pleasure as his cock reaches all the right spots for you. This man could turn you into his sexual doll and you aren’t quite sure if he knows it yet. “So big inside me…”

“You asked for it, princess” he reminds you, as if reminding himself as well of it. His tone is rough, and he is focused on the tad at hand, fucking you merciless. 

You feel his hips crash on your to each brutal thrust, and the way his balls also does. It was dirty, and so hot that had you whimpering and letting out little squeals. He was definitely leaving you sore, yet it was a delicious stretch from everywhere. 

Your mind is all foggy and practically numb from pleasure, yet it leaves the wicked idea of sucking his cock. The sight had left you wanting more, to choke on that dick. 

You imagine how heavy it would feel on your mouth, how it would leak on your tongue. You’d love to suck him dry with your mouth right now, as he fucks you. Having both would be paradise, yet his cock can only do one at the time.

Instead, you take the hand holding your legs, and you decide to take his thumb in your mouth. His hand cups your face instinctively, and you moan at the feeling of satiating your craving.

“Dirty minx” he mutters seeing your lewd display, yet it has him grunting more. “All of your holes need attention, hm? All of them are equally needy” 

The wet sounds from his thrusting make it all more erotic, as you nod to his words, sucking his thumb for a bit. Your moans and feeling close to your orgasm make you stop sucking it, but enjoy. 

Aemond is enjoying it too, you can see how his face is pure pleasure as he grunts, his hand moving to move you legs lower his shoulders, but he grips on them as if to gain impulse to thrust you.

“Aren’t you close, doll?” He asks, his face leaning closer to yours.

“Yes” you moan, breathlessly, you tone is pathetic, almost like a sob and a whine. “Yes sir” you say, wickedly adding the nickname. 

“That’s it, doll, just like that” he says, close as well. His balls tighten up, and he leans down to capture your lips in another sloppy, messy kiss. 

You moan into his mouth, as the kiss becomes desperate and wetter than it needed to be. Whatever, you think. He fucks you just right. 

His hand falls to spank your ass, as if urging you cum. It does it three times in total, as he doesn’t separate your mouth from his. He was consuming you, and you didn’t care.

Your orgasm is strong, it has you rolling your eyes to the back of your head and twitching your legs from how good it feels. You tried to calm down your moans, but it felt too good to be good. To be fair, when you cummed you weren’t as vocal, but you tended to lose your voice in the middle of it, as if you were lacking the proper air distribution. 

Aemond, on the contrary, when he cums, he says multiple praises “Your cunt is perfect, princess” followed by “Squeezing my cock just right” and “Filling you up, baby, all full”

And he does. You feel his cum settle inside you, and you had to bite your lip as he does so. It was a great feeling, having him cumming inside you so naturally… and raw. 

It was pure, raw feral sex. And you loved it. He was made for this intensity, and you were made to take it as he pleases. 

Even if your legs do hurt a bit, when you lay on his bed, with a blanket atop of you. 

Aemond instead, goes to wash himself a bit. After all, he still has visits, in his pool. He assured you that the house was pretty much soundproof, and your friends would have leave at the first moan they heard. 

“You seem pretty comfortable” his monotone tone says, as he walks out of the bathroom tidier. 

You felt without energy. You could do multiple rounds at a time, sure, but delaying your orgasm plus the roughness of it, plus the previous swimming exercise and the water… makes you lazy. 

“I am” 

“Your friends are waiting downstairs” he says, and now you can see how he is amused at that idea. You had said it, a wicked perv. 

“I know, but I am leaking cum” 

“Hm. Does it stop you?”

“Not much. But I am tired and sleepy”

“I have work to do” he reminds you again, as he makes sure he is all buttoned up and he applies his cologne on himself. It is strong and masculine. 

“Well, I’ll lay here” you say shrugging. To his questioning eyebrow raise, you can only add “I haven’t sucked on your dick yet. I am not leaving anytime soon, you know?” 

To your childness, he rolls his eyes, but ultimately agrees. “I am not telling my cousins a thing about this.”

“I will” you say, waving a hand dismissively. 

“And you can stay, but don’t let this think you have some kind of…”

“I won’t” you say smirking playfully, and he rolls his eyes. 

“You are prettier when you are getting fucked”

“I knoooow” 

When he leaves, you take your phone from the ground and open the text chat.

Guaranteed free pool pass ;) you are welcome bitches.

[military-bluebells]

oh i could rant for hours on this topic.

for context: i've lived somewhere quite rural and in an acknowledged 'dark spot' for signal for the majority of my life.

text-only authentication is the bane of my existence, and calling wasn't much better before wifi-calling, although that only works at home. mobile data doesn't work within at least a two-mile radius of my house if not further.

i've struggled so many times to get on on important sites (work emails, health systems and apps, online banking and financial sites) due to issues with connections. often times i have to stand in a very specific spot in my house, which only works half the time. i remember when i was younger, my mum waving her phone out the window or walking up to the top of the road to sent a text.

the local doctors still insist on trying to contact us through text/mobile even after we've told them multiple times that we can't be reached anyway other than by landline.

i would try to contact my parents while away, sometimes when i needed time-sensitive help, and they wouldn't get the message until hours later if at all, so i'd just have to sort things as best as i could.

a lot of people look at me in shock when i tell them about these issues, or any of the other realities of living in rural areas. and i think it must've been nice to never have worried about these things before.

smartphone storage plateauing in favor of just storing everything in the cloud is such dogshit. i should be able to have like a fucking terabyte of data on my phone at this point. i hate the fucking cloud

[skvrpion]

Familiar [M] Prologue

tw: references to porn & masturbation (f), swearing, drug paraphernalia

Saturday 1:00AM

Kendall blacked out as her body convulsed over her freshly washed comforter, acrylic toes curling and thighs clamping around the pink rose toy tucked in her palm. Her phone? Probably somewhere across the bed as she lost her grip on it to mewl and pant into the cold air of her room. Every other night for the past two weeks and counting, the twenty eight year old found herself in the same position: restless and horny out of her mind with no one there to put her to sleep. Her friends were right she needed a new man - more specifically - some new dick in her life, but she was too damn busy with work and kicking her stupid ass ex to the curb to get it.

So, it led to this - spending nights alone in her apartment masturbating to porn on Twitter

At least the guy she got off to was hot, well from below the neck he was anyway - his username was scvrlord and he never showed his face full online. As much as she frequented his page Kendall knew his half naked body from a mile away: a painfully thick frame accented with toasty skin, the aforementioned surgical scar running the length of his torso, and a delicately done black and grey sleeve trailing the exterior of left arm.

When it came to size, he wasn’t monsterish like his costars, but thick enough to make anyone squirm - simply put with the way he moved, he would leave even the most experienced performers seeing stars, shaking and bottomed out. Besides the physical, his voice was a deep baritone that softly rose every now and then when the sex he was having was amazing.

Something Kendall personally adored about him was his rarely seen and rather deadly set of eyes rimmed in thick lashes; his iris’s never quite settling on a color they bounced from a warm hazel to deep shade of blue, complimenting whatever color balaclava mask he donned for the evening.

Kendall knew it was entirely stupid to have a crush on someone she'd never met, especially a porn star with hundreds of thousands of followers, but something about him - even his tweets in between the back to back smut - reeled her in.

Whether he posted cellphone videos of him getting head or angled flicks of him dicking down a girl in his living room, Kendall found herself enamored by him and the spontaneous sex life he had. Maybe if she had someone like him in her life she wouldn't be as stressed about half the shit she was now.

A girl could only dream.

Right?

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

Monday 11:40PM

"Yes I turned those files in yesterday, they should all be in the OneDrive link I sent you. No you don't need a password... yes - I double checked this time, so it should open up fine." Kendall uttered as she clicked down the foyer. If it wasn't her boss driving her up the wall at work, it was her fellow co-worker Jackson. He never stayed out of her hair and insisted on contacting her over the most minuscule things. It was mainly because he wanted to fuck and his advances in the office weren't getting him anywhere but back to his cubicle - alone.

On this lovely night it was nearing 12 in the morning and his pestering had yet to cease from the time Kendall had clocked in that morning.

"Jackson I'm about to get in the elevator and my signal is gonna go out, I'll call you when I get in okay?"

"Ah forreal? Aight, bet."

"It's not like that," she sneered, "this is corporate business remember?"

"Yeah yeah ye-"

She hit end and pretended that her signal had gone out when in reality she had four full bars. The elevator door pinged open and to her surprise someone else was inside. Inhaling deeply she slid in across from the stranger, keeping her eyes glued to a new text message from an unblocked number that slid across her screen. It was like all the annoying ass niggas wanted to get on her nerves tonight.

I know you up right now. When you gone let me get the rest of my stuff??

"What fucking stuff?" she thought out loud, pressing number 15 on the lift and watching the doors close back. Devin had gotten kicked out of her crib over a month ago, and for whatever reason he insisted accusing her of having his stuff hidden away. A loud hiss escaped her lips as she rapidly clicked out a reply.

Idk wtf you on about but I can promise you ain’t shit of yours here. Whatever I didn’t put on the curb prolly somewhere in Alabama rn, check Craigslist and block this number💯

Before she could end her text with a hearty ‘fuck off’, her screen cut to calling and Devins new number flooded the screen. Kendall softly thudded her head off the elevator wall and audibly deep sighed for the millionth time that day.

"Can a bitch catch a break? Goddamn." she said aloud, prompting the stranger next to her to let out a deep chuckle. It made her ears perk up and her body freeze a little. The laugh was familiar, one she'd heard way too many times before to not know.

'There's no way in hell...No. You just bugging out right now.' Thought Kendall.

To her relief the lift promptly stopped on 15, and she made no hesitation to get out and beeline to her apartment. As she stepped out, however, her keys hit the elevator floor and landed by the strangers foot. Before she could fully whip around and snatch them up, he’d already beat her to it, her eyes making a deathly slow trail from the floor to the hand holding her hot pink key ring.

Kendall’s heart went straight to her ass as she caught a full view of who she'd been standing next to.

He had the same tatts, the same voice, the same eyes.

"Here you go."

"Oh shit - thank you. Have a nice night."

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

When Kendall got inside her apartment, she let out a loud expletive-filled exhale and contemplated running straight for her room. Either she was losing her mind or fate was one hell of a thing. She knew she couldn't do it - whatever it was – sober, so she grabbed a bottle of Patron off of her kitchen counter and mixed the strongest margarita she could muster. After half an hour of contemplation and small sips of tequila Kendall finally caved in and headed to her room. Her heart was thumping out of her chest as she logged in and clicked on the profile she'd often visit. In a blind rush she navigated her way to his DM's and felt her heart skip a beat as the small dot next to his picture was green - he was awake and online, probably uploading a new video given the time.

"Don't be a pussy Ken, you already here." She mumbled

Before she could fully chicken out the liquor kicked in and forced her fingers to type.

k3nlaflair: you live in Av. 76?

…

…

k3nlaflair: I think I just ran into you.

k3nlaflair: on the elevator

…

scvrlord: oh shit, that was you?

Bingo. She held back a scream and composed herself as she thought of a decent reply back.

k3nlaflair: this is mad weird lol sorry

scvrlord: nah baby you good, you beautiful btw.

…

k3nlaflair: 🫠 thank you

k3nlaflair: and sorry for bothering you so late, this is crazyyyy lol thanks for the save

scvrlord: nah you good I promise

scvrlord: rs you the first person my age I’ve seen since I moved 😂

k3nlaflair: yeahh Av. is a nursing home if you squint hard enough lol they don’t really tell they yuppies about it either.

scvrlord: I def see now. since ion really know anybody around here you down to grab lunch this weekend? on me.

Kendall couldn't believe her eyes. Not only was this man living in the same building as her, he was now casually asking her out for a chat. If she fumbled this her friend group would never let her live this down. Heart fluttering, she quickly tapped away at her keyboard and blindly hit send.

k3nlaflair: I know a chill spot in K-town that’s real lowkey. foods to die for and the drinks are stiff as you can get lol!

scvrlord: bet. meet at mine Friday night. that cool?

k3nlaflair: bet.

Kendall was every bit of speechless. This was the clutch of the year - no the century - all thanks to her shitty roster and butter fingers. As she reread her final three letter text for the hundredth time in those fleeting minutes, a sheepish grin curled across her face.

‘Kendall: 1, Devin: 0’

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

first and foremost big thank you to the gang for inspiring (and gently bullying me) to get back in the writing field again, love y’all downnn 😭🫡

pls don’t be shy to leave a comment, suggestions for part one, whatever you like my friends 🫶🏽 see you in the next one

TAGS: @kimuzostar @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @yassbishimvintage @melaninpov @planetblaque @jenlovey @ranikyani

[fallinallincurls]

Miles Away, I've Always Loved You

this is my entry for the 2025 winter fic exchange hosted by the lovely @wyattjohnston!! thank you as always for hosting!

my fic is for @writingonleaves! i had lots of fun writing this one and really hope you love it just as much.

hope you enjoy!! feedback is always appreciated! xx

word count: 5.1k

The knock on the door startles Reagan out of her thoughts. She had been mentally trying to figure out how to organize the bookshelf in her living room now that it’s been built. 

The apartment is still mostly a mess. The move to Vancouver had been circled on her calendar for months, but Reagan knew the worst part about moving cross country completely by herself would be the unpacking and setting up of a new place. And so far, she’s been right. 

From putting together all the furniture on her own, opening and emptying box after box and feeling that same exhaustion hit her every few hours, the move has been an insane amount of work to say the least. But she couldn’t be happier knowing that she moved to this city that she’s still a little familiar with for the job of her dreams. That alone makes everything worth it.

There’s another knock at the door and Reagan lets out a deep sigh. She’s not expecting someone as no one in the city knows who she is since she just arrived three days ago. She abandons the stacks of books on the floor and heads to the door, wondering who could possibly be on the other side.

Without bothering to look through the peephole, which might’ve been a mistake, Reagan swings open the door to reveal a man she’s never seen before. He looks just a little older than her 25 years of age, has a big smile that wrinkles the corners of his eyes and his hair is neatly styled. Before she can even open her mouth to say anything, he’s already speaking.

“Oh, hey!” He says with an element of surprise in his voice. “I didn’t know Cap had a girl, but I’m new here so I'm still trying to learn all of that, you know?”

She doesn’t know in fact because she has no idea what he’s talking about and the confusion must be evident on Reagan’s face because he continues talking in effort to explain.

“Um, I’m here for the team dinner? Apparently it’s tradition here for the captain to host everyone before training camp starts and so I brought this,” he shows you a bottle of expensive wine and then a container of store bought cookies, “and these.”

Everything the stranger standing in front of her has said only made the situation more odd. Team dinner? Tradition? He clearly mixed up numbers and is at the wrong apartment.

“I’m sorry,” she starts, but is almost immediately cut off when another voice calls out from down the hallway.

“Jake!” 

The man turns towards the voice and a look of recognition passes over his face as his smile seemingly becomes brighter at the sight of whoever said his name. 

“Q!” He says brightly, before returning his attention to her. “I’m sorry, I must’ve mixed up the apartment numbers.”

“It’s no problem.” Reagan reassures him before he waves a goodbye and starts heading to the apartment next to hers. The curiosity gets the better of her and she glances over to see who “Q” was and that’s when everything comes to a halt.

Because Q, or cap as Jake also called him, is Quinn Hughes. Her ex-boyfriend. The love of her life. And now, apparently, her next door neighbor.

Quinn must have sensed another pair of eyes on him because he looks over and meets her gaze. A look of disbelief crosses over his face for a split second, his brows furrowed in confusion as he realizes who his teammate bothered in the mixup.

“Reagan?” 

It might have been two years since the last time she saw him, but hearing her name rolling off his tongue still had the same effect on her as it did then.

“Quinn?” She asks in response, unable to comprehend that he’s standing less than 100 feet away from her. Quinn. Her Quinn. 

“Yeah, it’s me. What are you doing here?”

“I, uh, just moved in a few days ago.” Reagan starts to explain and then a rush of worry hits her. “I finally got the job I’ve been waiting for and it just so happened to be here in Vancouver. I had no idea you lived in this building at all,”

“Hey, it’s okay.” Quinn says softly, cutting off her rambling. “Congratulations, I know how hard you worked to get through school and do everything you could to get this job.”

“Thank you.” Reagan murmurs, pushing her hair behind her ear and nervously dropping her gaze to the floor. All the heartbreak from the last few years has disappeared in the matter of seconds and it almost feels like she’s back there. In a time where they were still together and so in love with each other.

But Reagan knows that’s not her reality anymore. Now, she’s standing in her doorway looking at the man who she gave her heart to all those years ago, but now he’s almost a stranger. Just her neighbor in a new city.

“Uh, I know this is probably unexpected and way too sudden, but do you want to come over for dinner? There’s definitely enough food and everything.”

Reagan feels a wave of surprise wash over her at his offer and even though her heart is screaming to say yes, she knows she can’t accept. At least not right now.

“Thank you for offering, but I’m okay. Still trying to get adjusted and all. Another time?” She replies, trying to push away the want that’s arisen within her. She wants to spend time with him even if she hasn’t seen him in a while and her heart is still a little broken. Quinn nods in understanding, a strand of hair falling perfectly over his forehead, but Reagan sees the familiar look of sadness in his blue green eyes.

A loud yell erupts from inside Quinn’s apartment disrupting the quiet air around the two of them.

“I should probably get back. Almost the entire team is in there and I don’t trust a lot of them by themselves.” Quinn chuckles and Reagan feels a smile tug at her lips. “It was really great to see you. I hope Vancouver treats you well.”

“Thanks, Quinn. Same to you.” 

Quinn flashes you a sweet smile before ducking back inside. When the door to his apartment closes behind him, Reagan lets out a breath she didn’t even realize she was holding. Not only does she have to navigate life in a new city with a new job, but now she has to handle living next to her ex, the man who was her everything, on top of everything else.

The memories that came rushing back the moment she realized it was him standing in the hallway linger in her mind for a little longer. All the shared kisses, big hugs after good and bad games, nights on the porch at the lake house in the offseason, his unwavering support for everything she did, early mornings spent cuddling and so much more. 

Reagan knew when they broke up that she would miss him for the rest of her life, but it feels like the wound has been reopened seeing him unexpectedly in person. Of course, she’s kept tabs on him by tuning into a few Canucks games and for a while, Jack was sending her regular life updates but those slowly came to an end. 

Her heart aches knowing she is going to have to see him more often now that they’re neighbors. It’s a curveball she never saw coming or even considered when she chose to move to the city that he lives and plays in. But here she is. 

With a shake of her head, Reagan clears her mind and pushes open her front door again. There’s relief that the entire interaction is over, both with Quinn and his teammate, but in a strange way, she also misses talking to him already.

Nothing could prepare her for randomly seeing the man she still loved years after he broke her heart. 

A few days later, Reagan gets a strong sense of deja vu. She’s attempting to put together the coffee table for the third time, after the first two tries were unsuccessful, when there’s a knock at her door.

A heavy sigh slips past your lips as she drops the useless IKEA instructions to the floor. She’s already preparing a little speech in her head in anticipation it’s another one of Quinn’s teammates who got the apartment numbers mixed up again.

“Hey, sorry, Quinn is-“ Reagan starts as the door swings open and reveals the blue green eyed, curly haired hockey player who lives next door. “here?” She finishes, more like a question than a statement.

“Hey,” Quinn says, flashing that soft smile that makes her heart melt. “I, um,” he pauses, almost as if collecting his thoughts to get exactly what he wants to say correct. “I know how hard it is to move to a new place by yourself having done it myself so I wanted to help with anything you need. And I brought breakfast too. Hopefully your usual order hasn’t changed.”

Reagan’s heart swells with adoration, remembering this is the version of Quinn she fell in love with. The kind, thoughtful man who continuously surprised her in ways she never thought possible. And against all odds, here he is again.

She’s stunned into silence for a few seconds, overwhelmed by his offer. It’s genuine and shows he cares even after all this time but allowing him to help means spending time with him, reconnecting, and Reagan doesn’t know if she’s ready for that just yet.

But she also really wants that coffee table to be built. So for right now, the pros outweigh the cons.

“Thank you so much, Quinn. That’s really thoughtful of you and honestly, there are a few things I’ve realized I can’t accomplish by myself no matter how hard I try.”

Quinn’s smiling genuinely now. He can’t believe she’s letting him help despite the fact they haven’t seen each other in a while minus the mixup the other day. But he doesn’t care. This is his opportunity to catch up with her and he’s going to cherish every second.

“That’s why I’m here.” He chuckles in response, handing her the iced coffee and bagel he picked up for her. “Order still the same?” He asks again, more out of curiosity than anything.

“Order’s still the same. I’m more surprised you remembered it.”

Of course he remembers it. He remembers everything about Reagan despite the fact there was a time where he wished he could forget everything about her. He remembers the show she would only watch before bed and the scent of her favorite shampoo. He remembers the feel of her hand in his and the way he always felt so safe with her in his arms. He remembers her go-to lazy dinner and the songs she loved screaming at the top of her lungs in the car.

He remembers it all. But now, Reagan feels like a stranger for so many reasons.

Quinn takes this moment to really look at her. She’s still breathtakingly gorgeous. but he notices her wavy dark brown hair is lighter than he remembers it. Maybe she got highlights or has dyed it since the breakup. There are more freckles scattered across her cheeks than there were when they met. She’s wearing an old oversized Umich shirt that he realizes at the last second might be his. But when her brown eyes meet his, any anxiety he feels about this moment falls away.

This is still Reagan. His Reagan. Yes, it’s been a while but he knows her. She hasn’t changed that much. If she’s letting him help and being friendly, maybe she doesn’t hate him like he always thought she did after the way things ended between them.

“Of course I remember it.” Quinn says with a shrug, trying not to reveal how much he misses her. “So what do you need help with first?” He asks as Reagan waves him into her apartment and closes the door behind him.

Reagan explains her dilemma with the uncooperative coffee table which takes first priority before going through a small list of things she wanted to get done today like unpack her kitchen and finish building her vanity. Quinn nods along to everything she says, seemingly happy to offer his help even if he doesn’t] have to.

“Thank you,” Reagan says softly, the two words holding more meaning than she ever thought could be possible. Quinn gives her a slightly confused look as he sits down on the floor ready to tackle the coffee table. “For everything. You didn’t have to bring breakfast over and offer to help me get settled in considering we haven’t seen each other in a long time, but I really do appreciate it.” 

“I’d do anything for you, Rea.”

Hearing that one line and the use of the nickname only Quinn has ever used for her sends a shiver through her body. She feels her heart being tugged in his direction again even if it never fully healed from their end years ago, but she desperately tries to keep herself in check. Their relationship came to an end because of him. Quinn wanted to focus solely on hockey and his need to constantly get better on the ice was more important than keeping her in his life. 

So she moved on after he broke her heart. Or she thought she did until she saw him the other day. Her feelings have rushed back in no time, like nothing happened in the first place, but Reagan knows better.

“I know,” she murmurs, voice quiet as the wave of emotions hit her. “I’m going to start unpacking the kitchen. Let me know if you need any help. The instructions have been useless.” Quinn chuckles, that adorable sound filling her with a sense of happiness she hasn’t felt in so long. To this day his laugh is still one of her favorite sounds in the whole entire world.

For a good hour or so, the two of them work in comfortable silence. A random playlist Reagan selected is playing from a bluetooth speaker and every once in a while, she hears Quinn curse under his breath. She catches herself smiling a few times, the familiarity of it all bringing back so many memories. 

“Reagan?” Quinn tentatively disrupts the quiet as she’s reaching up to place a stack of plates in a cabinet above the kitchen counter. 

“Hm?” She hums in response, letting out a sign of relief when she gets the plates on the shelf. Quinn is grinning at the sight of her on her tiptoes trying to reach a higher shelf in her new home. This is something else that hasn’t changed since they were together. She still refuses to use any help to reach higher places despite being small enough that it would be beneficial. 

“Coffee table is finished.” He says, pointing over his shoulder when she turns around to look at him. “You weren’t lying about it being difficult, but it’s done.” A look of surprise crosses over her face and something about her right then makes Quinn’s heart ache. 

He knows he messed up when he broke it off with her years ago. His head was too stuck on hockey and only hockey. There was an unbearable amount of pressure on his shoulders after being drafted and he felt like he had to not only live up to the expectations, but defy them. And through all that, he lost the greatest thing to ever happen to him.

Reagan.

The woman who showed him unconditional love from the moment they met in college all the way through to the very end. Reagan who was there for every accomplishment and disappointment that happened in his career. The woman who always made sure he knew so many people, including her, were unbelievably proud of him at all times no matter what happened.

He never thought he would get to see her again and somehow here he is in her apartment that’s right next to his in the city that he’s been his second home for the last six years. 

“Told you I wasn’t lying.” She laughs, the sound filling Quinn with joy like it always has. “We can tackle the vanity next if you’re up for it. It’s a lot for just one person.” 

She leads him into her office where the unopened box is laying on the ground where she envisions the piece of furniture. Without a moment of hesitation, they get started on building the vanity as conversation flows freely. Quinn fills her in on everything going on with the Canucks from new teammates to how he likes being captain. She listens as he recommends some new restaurants and places to check out around the city and she fills him in on how everyone is doing back home in Michigan. Quinn asks about her new job and he can’t hide how proud he is when she tells him she got accepted into the Vancouver Symphony Orchestra. 

Reagan has been playing the french horn since fourth grade and that’s the entire reason they met in college since Quinn ran into her at a UMich football game when she was part of the marching band. He remembers being struck by how pretty she was then even in the slightly unflattering bright blue and yellow uniform she was wearing with her instrument in hand. Over time as they became friends and eventually got together, Quinn learned her biggest dream was to play in a symphony. It’s difficult to get a seat anywhere, but if anyone could do it, Quinn knew it would be her. Reagan was talented, always has been, and knowing all that hard work finally paid off makes him beyond happy. 

And secretly, he’s never been so glad that the music she loves so much brought her to the city he lives in now.

“I was nervous about being accepted. It’s one of the most prestigious symphonies on the West Coast, but I was sick of being in Michigan again even if I do love it there, so I took a chance and it worked out.” Reagan explains shyly, her eyes dropping to her fiddling fingers.

“Hey,” Quinn says, abandoning the half built vanity for a second to take hold of her hands. “I’m so proud of you. You deserve that seat and it’s incredibly brave of you to pack up and move halfway across the continent to live out your dream.”

They both are aware of the unspoken words there. That it was also brave to come back to the city where their love story crashed and burned.

“Thank you, Quinny. That means a lot.” The words are barely out of Reagan’s mouth before Quinn is wrapping his strong arms around her in a tight embrace. She melts into the hug, her head resting on his shoulder and lets the comfort wash over her. Quinn lets out a small sigh of relief. He missed having her in his arms and the feeling of peace that surrounds him is unmistakable.

God, he messed up so bad by letting her go, by ruining the best thing he’s ever had because he thought he couldn’t balance the pressure of being an NHL player and a relationship at the same time. 

“Good to know Huggy Bear’s still got it.” Reagan teases him, reluctantly pulling away even if she wants to stay in his arms forever. But she can’t. She’s not that girl for him anymore.

“Yeah, yeah.” Quinn laughs, used to hearing the nickname his teammates gave him years ago when he joined the team. He meets her gaze and it’s then that an idea hits him. Reagan can see the look of hesitation in his blue green eyes, but waits patiently for him to continue. “Whenever you get settled in here and everything, would you maybe want to go skating? I know we used to go all the time and there’s this cool rink downtown you would love, but no pressure if not. I’m sure you’re going to be busy with work and adjusting to a new city.”

Reagan knows she should say no. She knows it would be better to leave the past in the past. But something about the way Quinn asks with pure honesty tugs at her and the small hope that maybe their love could get a second chance after all this time blossoms.

So she says yes.

“I would love that. Just text me when you’re free and we can schedule something.”

Quinn’s happiness at her response is immediately noticeable even though he tries to hide it so it’s not as obvious. The smile Reagan adores so much is on full display and she couldn’t be happier to have him in her half furnished apartment just days after she moved back to the city where her heart was broken.

Before she can get too swept up in the emotions, she gently pushes Quinn’s chest and giggles.

“We’ve got a list of things to do, Hughes. Get back to work.”

And with that, both of them work together to get through all the tasks Reagan wanted accomplished. That familiar sense of peace envelops the apartment and for the first time in a long time, Reagan’s heart isn’t heavy with sadness. Instead, it swells with joy like no other.

Between Quinn’s busy schedule of games, practices and traveling and Reagan’s new work schedule of getting acquainted with the symphony and joining practices of her own, it took a few weeks for them to find a day to go skating together.

But in that time, a constant stream of texts were exchanged and phone calls were made whether Quinn was next door or on the road. Reagan learned all about what happened in Quinn’s life for the two years she wasn’t part of it and heard so many stories of his teammates and his brothers, who she also missed since she hadn’t spoken to either of them since the breakup.

Quinn got a glimpse into who Reagan is now and if possible, he feels himself falling even harder for her all over again. His feelings never truly went away but every time he heard her laugh or she shared a secret, he knew that even after all that time, this girl is still the one he wants.

Finally, the agreed upon Sunday arrives and Quinn’s quiet, but strong knock sounds through Reagan’s apartment as she pulls a beanie on her head. 

“Coming!” She yells, almost tripping on her way to the door. She’s nervous and excited all at once. When the door swings open, Reagan’s breath is stolen away for a second as Quinn stands in front of her looking extra cozy and comfy bundled up for the cold. His eyes are alight with wonder and his somewhat wild brown curls are peeking out from under his favorite navy blue beanie. He has a hoodie on under his winter jacket and there’s the faintest blush spreading across his cheeks.

“Hey, Rea,” Quinn greets her with a bright smile. The old nickname still sends a jolt of happiness through her veins even though he’s used it frequently over the last few weeks and she can’t help but feel hopeful. Maybe this is just the two of them going skating together, but there is a sense of something more in the air and if there’s even a chance Quinn wants to give their relationship another chance, Reagan is all in. She can tell he’s grown and matured in the time they’ve spent apart and if she didn’t see that, it would be much easier to ignore the feelings she has for him.

“Hey!” She replies, giving him a quick hug. Quinn is a little surprised, but welcomes the embrace for a moment before she pulls away and starts speaking in excitement. “Don’t worry about skates for me, I still use my favorite pair,” Reagan lifts her white pair of Bauer skates up and then glances at her warm, but cute winter outfit, “and I’m dressed for the weather since you said the rink is outside.”

“You’re all prepared,” Quinn chuckles, “Let’s go then.” He says almost sheepishly like he’s nervous all of the sudden, and reaches for her hand. Reagan intertwines her gloved fingers with his and offers him a reassuring smile to silently say “this is okay.” The rink is just a few blocks away from their shared apartment building so the walk over is cold, but brief and full of laughter and conversation between the two of them.

Reagan catches a glimpse of the rink when Quinn stops walking at the opening of a large clearing and her heart starts racing.

They are at Robson Square Ice Rink. The prettiest rink in all of Vancouver in Reagan’s opinion, but it’s also her favorite and was dubbed her and Quinn’s spot when they were dating. 

“Quinn,” Reagan breathes out in disbelief. She doesn’t need to say anything else, Quinn can read all the emotions on her face. He squeezes her hand in reassurance while flashing her a sweet smile before leading her to the benches to help put her skates on. 

“Come on,” He murmurs and Reagan swallows down the emotions in an effort to take in every detail of this moment. She immediately starts unlacing her skates when they claim a spot on the bench, but Quinn insists on doing it himself.

“I can do it myself, you know.”

“I know,” Quinn replies cheekily. “But you deserve to be taken care of so let me do it even if it’s just this one time.” Reagan sighs, in pure dramatics, which makes Quinn chuckle but her heart is warm and fuzzy. This is why she fell in love with him in the first place. He’s the most caring person she knows and would do anything for her. That much clearly hasn’t changed.

Reagan keeps her eyes on Quinn as he ties her skates perfectly until he taps the heel of her right skate to signal that she’s good to go and freezes. Her brows furrowed in confusion for a moment until it hits her.

Quinn got these skates for her years ago. They were her first pair and one of the best gifts she has ever received. But after taking them out for a few spins, she noticed that he had them customized. There was a little blue 43 printed onto the outside of the heel on her right skate which is exactly what Quinn is staring at right now.

“It’s still there.” He says quietly, tracing the two numbers before meeting Reagan’s eyes. It’s almost as if he expected her to cover the numbers up herself after the breakup and although she was angry about how everything happened, these skates are a reminder of the blissful beginning and she wanted that to remain untouched.

“Of course it is.” And just like earlier, this feels as if the simple moment holds a double meaning. As if that tiny 43 is a sign of hope for Quinn that he might get a second chance. That there’s still a spot for him in Reagan’s heart.

They share soft smiles and sit in the comfortable silence for a moment as Quinn puts his skates on. When Quinn takes her hand to help her onto the ice, Reagan lets herself be fully present. Months ago she never thought about reconnecting with the man who broke her heart, but now she couldn’t be happier that they’re friends again. She missed him beyond words.

It took a few laps around the rink to get her footing back, but once she did, she was challenging Quinn to races and constantly giggling as he tried to distract her from skating smoothly. Despite being one of the most well recognized people in the entire city of Vancouver, no one bothered Quinn on the public outdoor rink even if a few of the younger kids kept a watchful eye on him as if they recognized the captain of their favorite hockey team.

“How is it so far?” Quinn asks out of the blue as the two of them are skating at a leisurely pace. Reagan takes in the city skyline around them before meeting his gaze.

“Skating? Good! I always forget how fun it is and-”

“No,” he gently cuts you off and shakes his head, “I mean living in Vancouver. I know it’s been a huge adjustment for you.”

“Oh,” Reagan says in realization, taking a moment to think. “It’s been way better than I expected, honestly.” Quinn raises his eyebrows in surprise as an adorable smile blossoms across his face.

“Really?”

“Yeah and I have a sneaky feeling you already know you’re a big part of why that is, Quinny.” His cheeks become pink with blush and he looks down briefly before stopping the two of you for a second.

“Have you ever thought of giving us a second chance?” 

The question is like a punch to the gut. Not only because Reagan never saw it coming, but it is exactly what she’s thought of asking Quinn herself a thousand times.

Has she thought of giving them another chance? Yes. Every single day she wonders what it would be like to be his girlfriend again. To allow herself to feel the overwhelming love she has for the oldest Hughes brother. To feel at home again because he’s back in her life. And Reagan has come to realize that she wants a second chance with Quinn more than anything.

He’s proven that he has grown and matured from the man he was years ago when he shattered her heart into a million pieces. He’s shown that her life and her dreams are just as important and he’ll do anything he can to support her every single day. His love has been on display since the first moment she saw him in the hallway of their apartment building weeks ago.

“Yes. Every single day.” Reagan responds with nothing but pure honesty.

“Me too.” Quinn almost whispers, trying not to let his nerves show. He’s biting his lip, a nervous habit of his that hasn’t disappeared. “Uh, you can say no if you’re not ready or anything, but would you like to go out with me? On a proper first date? Again?” 

Instantly, a beaming smile is on Reagan’s face as his words process in her mind. It’s happening. Something she’s dreamed of for so long, it’s real.

“I’d love that, Quinn.” She hugs him tight, relishing in the joy rushing through her veins. Nothing could make this moment any better and when Quinn kisses her temple, also feeling the happiest he’s been in a long time, everything in the world feels right again.

[chenlezip]

mark, la la land ♡

⤷ summary : when mark, a pianist, and y/n, an actress, follow their passion and achieve success in their respective fields, they find themselves torn between their love for each other and their careers.

annas note : the first movie and piece of writing for my lil fic series. i hope you all enjoy and enjoy who is next (renjun). i had a thought one night and had to write dreamies x fav movies. thank you to my wife for proof reading this first, you’re my biggest supporter 😭

next | masterlist

you always dreamt of being an actress, it was your biggest life goal. for the moment though - you worked as a barista at the cafe that regularly had actors come in. after a bad day at an audition, you immediately fell face first on your bed but.. you couldn’t stay in filthy clothes so you got a shower, looked at yourself in the mirror and your flatmates asked you about everything. they decided to force you out to a party, getting you dressed up prettily, saying you’ll ’find someone in the crowd.’

yet, you never found anyone in the crowd or they just didn’t find you — whatever it was, you felt very discouraged walking back in the middle of the night, groaning as you walked in your heels, gripping your purse. you let out a sigh, paying attention to the sound of a slow piano tune. you walked inside of a very nice looking restaurant, staring at who was playing. you felt like everything around you was drowned out as you paid attention to the tune and the man who was playing it.

said man — mark lee, was someone who loved jazz. he made his life around it, he had a specific route for his future but he got screwed over. he talked to his sister and never got through to her, just staring at his past due rent letter and sighing. he focused on his piano once again, relearning the chords to his favourite song. and here he was, in the restaurant once again after getting fired.

after focusing on playing christmas songs, he decided to play his favourite jazz song, a relaxing rhythm compared to how lively everything else was around him. he focused on the way his fingers slid over the right keys, immersing himself in his work.

“you’re fired.” “no- what you mean is play the setlist-“ “no, you’re fired. that’s what i mean.” “it’s christmas, come on, don’t fire me.”

“i see the decorations, you’re fired, good luck in the new year.”

mark stormed off, shoving past you. you had tried to speak to him, “i just want to say.. i heard you play and i-“ right. well. that went well.

SPRING.

a couple months had passed since that night. you’re at yet another party, your friend had invited you and you were interacting with a few people — hoping to get at least something from this one. you grabbed a drink, looking around at everyone who was around, paying attention to a band that was performing. you recognised the man in red, the man who was in the restaurant and stormed out shoving past your shoulder.

you were drinking. “alright. i remember you. i was an asshole - i can admit that- but requesting i ran from a serious musician is just too far.” “my lord- did you just say a serious musician?” you ask, tilting your head, “can i borrow what you’re wearing? just for.. an audition i have coming up, i need to play a serious firefighter.”

“what’s your name?” “yn.” “guess i’ll see you in the movies.”

after walking back from the party together, mark showed up at your work place. the warner brothers cafe. you rambled on about different things — how you worked just across from the windows that two characters from casablanca looked out of and that mark goes 5 miles toward a cafe near a jazz club.

you joined mark at the movies, seeming as you haven’t watched the movie he had referenced to you when he took you to a jazz club and rambled on about it. he was passionate.

you look over to him, your hand slowly moving over to his as you fight back a smile, feeling your hands intertwine. he leans over to you, about to kiss you before the film burns out. you both laugh, “i have an idea.” you mumble out as you find yourself on a night drive with him.

you head to an observatory, admiring the beautiful sights that were there, both in your own little worlds. there was so much to do, so much to see, and you felt comfortable having marks presence beside you. even though the two of you were so different, you both were passionate about wanting to get into your own line of work. him with jazz and you: an actress, could it possibly work? who knew but by the end of the day, you both shared a tender kiss.

you spent nearly everyday with mark, going out and about, sight seeing, going on cute dates. throughout the days though, you both shared thoughts of what you should do just to help each others projects out.

“maybe i should name it chicken on a stick?” “no no- name it mark’s.” “is that an apostrophe as a music note?” “yeah it is.”

he chuckled and shook his head, “that’s actually quite unique you know ? but i think i am going to name it chicken on a stick, and you’re going to make sure your play goes amazing.” he kissed your forehead.

fall comes and you and mark tried your best to make the relationship work, he made you a lovely dinner but he had to leave first thing in the morning. you both were getting busy, and you were terrified for your play while he was ecstatic after finding an amazing band to play in, one that he felt was great for him. he suggested for you to join him on tour.

“i have to rehearse..” “can’t you rehearse anywhere?” “anywhere you are?” you ask softly as you sigh, “it’s in two weeks and i don’t think that’ll be very good for me, i wish i could though.”

“when are you done? when are you finished with the tour?” “we finish, record and tour again..” you ask if it’s the long haul and then an argument happens between the two of you because the both of you taking each others words the wrong way. he says this is what you wanted for him and to have a steady job and of course you did want that for him, you wanted him to start his club and look after himself but he seemed like he didn’t want this sort of thing for himself.

things only took a worse turn, no one showed up to your show apart from close friends, not even mark showed up. you ended things, you got upset and went back home, where you really wanted to be just for some time away from doing what you wanted and away from mark.

five years later and winter has strolled around once again. you enter the cafe you used to work at, grabbing two coffees for yourself and your manager. the day soon ends and you suggest to your husband if he wants to grab dinner to which he complies with. you’re walking on the side of the pavement, until you hear loud jazz coming from a restaurant. “do you want to check it out?” he asked and you nodded, he lead you inside.

as soon as you enter the doorway, you recognise it as marks. the bright sign saying ‘mark’s’ with the design you had made for him one night in your eyesight. you enter further with your husband, feeling a little awkward sitting up front but you decided to get comfortable and take a sip of your drink.

mark, meanwhile, comes up on stage and introduces the males who have just performed a song. you both make eye contact in the crowd and he mutters, “welcome to mark’s.”

he stared at the piano in front of him before playing those same damn notes you’ve heard before but even slower and beautiful than you remember.. filled with such passion. it was like that day where you first met him in the restaurant he worked at, christmas decorations around the place as you walk over this time, before you can speak, mark engulfs you into a hug and a kiss. you go through the last memories you both shared together before things abruptly ended.

you thought about how different everything would be if you didn’t break up. the happy memories you could’ve shared — having a kid, going to jazz clubs together and sharing a drink, maybe just having mark by your side instead of your husband as you listen to the notes of the piano play. suddenly, you snap back to reality as everyone claps, you feel heartbroken. “we should go.” you whisper to your husband as you get up and slowly make your way out.

but before you leave, you turn around and share a soft gaze and smile with the man you had loved most.

tags : @injvns @polarisjisung @mejaemin @ayukas @hyckvr @yizhrt @blondemrk 

[bapeach]

Stuttering heart

Another Azzi fic! I just feel like she'd be the sweetest girl ever. Hope you all enjoy! Constructive criticism is always welcome :D Find my masterlist here :)

Pairing(s): Azzi Fudd x female!reader  Word count: 6.2k+ Warnings: Cursing, stuttering Summary: In which your voice isn't the only thing that stutters, but your heart as well. ------------

UConn was the place to be if you wanted to be someone in the world. To some people, at least. You were one of them. You’ve wanted to go to UConn since you were 11 years old, and now, 7 years later, you’re living the dream. 

Okay, maybe living the dream was a slight overexaggeration that you told your parents to make them stop worrying about you. But you were happy. You were studying something you actually cared about and weren’t struggling all that much. So what if you didn’t live the typical college student life, going to parties every week? You’d much rather curl up in bed with a good book and some great music. And so what if you didn’t have any friends? You didn’t need anyone. You’d gone through your life alone for most of it anyway.

Whenever your parents asked, however, you always lied about how much fun you were having with your new besties. You just didn’t want them worrying about you when you were miles from home. You also didn’t want to hear your mom nag about how you need to go out more and actually talk to people. You’d tried that when you were younger, but it just didn’t work.

The whole making friends thing wouldn’t be so bad if you didn’t suffer from social anxiety and didn’t also have a speech impediment. You’ve had a pretty bad stutter your entire life, which always gets worse when you’re nervous. And so nerves make the stutter worse, which makes the nerves worse, which means you get stuck in a vicious cycle. Always being left a stammering mess at the slightest inconvenience. 

It was really bad when you were still young. The kids in your school constantly bullied you for being different. They’d always mock you and tease you but pretend to be nice kids when the teachers were around. It took you a while to tell your parents about the abuse you suffered in school, but when you finally did, they let you stay home. So you were homeschooled for most of your life. Your parents couldn’t exactly give you a whole college degree at home, though. So now you were at UConn!

Thankfully, you’re mainly surrounded by mature adults now, so the bullying was over. That sadly didn’t mean that they understood, though. Most people don’t really have the patience to listen to someone when they can barely say 2 words without a stutter coming through. You can see it in their eyes, the way they dart around the room, looking for an escape. Or you can tell by the way they try to help by finishing your sentences for you. You suppose it’s nice of them to try to help, but in reality, it’s just annoying. It completely throws you off, making you forget what you’re trying to say. Or it just makes you feel like an inconvenience.

So yeah, you didn’t really try to socialize with the students around you. You’d accepted your lonely life a long time ago and had made your peace with it. You never raised your hand in class, emailing the professor when you had any questions. You avoided group projects, opting to do all the work alone over having to deal with the anxiety of talking to your peers. So, maybe it wasn’t the best life you were living, but you tried to make the most out of it.

-----

You’re making your way out of the library when you first bump into her. You’d planned on getting some studying done in a quiet corner, surrounded by the smell of books, but the universe had other plans. Or, well, all the other students with the same idea did. The library is filled to the brim with people, so you’ll have to make do with studying in a coffee shop nearby. 

You grip your books a little tighter as you walk, eyes trained on the floor. You don’t notice the athlete making her way towards you until you crash into her. You fall down, dropping your textbooks along with the articles you’d planned to read. You quickly get up into a crouch as you start collecting your stuff, as well as the papers from the person you’d run into. “S-s-s-s-orry,” you mutter, still not looking up as your face turns red with embarrassment from both running into someone and your stammered apology. A hand enters your view as the person helps you grab everything. 

“Don’t worry about it,” you hear a female voice say. You finally glance up and freeze for a moment. The angelic voice belonged to an actual angel. Your heart skips a few beats as you feel your mouth drop open a little. The girl in front of you might just be the prettiest girl you’ve ever seen. Even though she’s crouched down, you can tell she’s tall and athletic. She has big, beautiful eyes that twinkle in the light. Her soft-looking lips are curved into a sweet smile. A smile that reaches her eyes and can melt the heart of anyone.

Once you’ve both grabbed everything, the brunette stands up, one hand holding some books as the other is stretched out towards you, ready to pull you up. You accept her hand as you stand up. Her hand feels both soft and rough at the same time. You smile awkwardly at her as she looks at the items she’s holding, trying to figure out which ones are hers and which ones are yours. You stare at her a moment longer before looking through your own pile. 

“Oh my God, you also have Mr. Davis? Is he also such an assh- I mean, is he also super strict in your class?” She asks, a small grin forming on her face at her slip up. She tilts her head a little as she waits for an answer. You swallow harshly, hoping you won’t completely embarrass yourself in front of the goddess standing before you. “Yeah, he’s p-p-p-pretty s-s-s-strict,” you mutter, clenching your jaw in annoyance at the stammer. You prepare for the inevitable. The classic “Why are you stuttering? Are you nervous?” or maybe the typical awkward smile as people try to get away from having a conversation with you.

You’re surprised to see and hear none of that. Instead, the girl’s smile softens just a bit, her eyes still looking into yours. “I have an assignment of his due tomorrow, and I honestly have no clue what I’m doing. He’s also too much of a jerk to give people an extension, so I’m screwed,” she huffs as her lips form into a pout. She straightens up a bit, her smile returning. “I’m so sorry, I just realized I never introduced myself! I’m Azzi,” she grins, stretching out her hand to shake yours. You hesitantly shake it as you open your mouth to speak. “I’m Y/N,” you reply, exhaling a sigh of relief when you don’t stutter.

You’re about to hand Azzi her papers when you see the assignment she was talking about. It was the same one you’d finished working on yesterday, and it was definitely not an easy one. Before you can overthink it, you start speaking. “I can help you if you w-w-want?” 

The brunette’s smile becomes even wider. “Really? You’d do that?” You can already feel regret bubbling up in your chest as you realize you’ll have to talk a lot if you want to help her. You almost back out, but you can’t. Not when Azzi is looking at you with those wide, hopeful eyes.

“Mhm,” you hum as you shrug your shoulders. “Thank you so much! Are you free right now?” she asks as she taps her fingers against the spine of the book she’s holding. You open your mouth to reply, but shut it again, instead choosing to simply nod. “Alright, let’s go,” she grins. She starts making her way to the library when you gently grab her arm to stop her. “The library is f-f-full. Wanna go to a c-c-coffee sh-sh-shop?” You ask, nervously scratching your arm. 

“Sure! Have you been to the one that only just opened? I swear their coffee is the best I've ever had,” she claims, leading the way. You shake your head as you follow her. The whole way to the café, Azzi talks about everything and nothing. From Mr. Davis’ class to her upcoming basketball game (You knew it, there was no way she wasn’t an athlete!). 

You listen to her voice, nodding and shaking your head at the right times. You reply when she has questions, but you try to avoid talking when you can. Whenever you do speak, however, your heart swells a little. Not once does the brunette try to hurry you up or talk over you. She patiently waits for you, the smile on her face never leaving.

When you reach the shop, the athlete tells you she’ll order the drinks as you go find a seat. You give her your order with a small smile before finding a table. Once Azzi has the drinks, she hands you yours and plops down with a smile. You grab your wallet to pay her back, but she holds up her hand to stop you. “No, no, it’s okay! Consider this payment for your help.” 

You start shaking your head, ready to tell her she doesn’t have to pay you for that. You don’t get the chance to, however, as Azzi gives you a playful glare. You sag your shoulders with a huff, but a smile makes its way onto your face as you hear the brunette giggle.

“Alright, let’s get this show on the road,” she says, looking at you with hopeful eyes. You give her a firm nod as you crack your knuckles. You spend the next 45 minutes explaining the assignment, giving examples, and showing her a step-by-step on how to solve the issue. Once she finally understands, she makes the task before looking at you for approval. You quickly scan the page as a bright smile makes its way to your face. You show her 2 thumbs up as she cheers, leaning back in her seat with relief. 

You can’t believe you’d just spend almost an hour with someone who wasn’t a family member, and you didn’t even feel bad once. Every time you got stuck on a word, the brunette would just calmly wait for you to continue. She’d look at you with kind eyes and a relaxed posture, never once getting annoyed or losing her patience.

It’s silly how you haven’t even known Azzi for a day, but you already feel so safe in her company. Is this what it was like to have a friend? You feel a pit grow in your stomach as you realize you’ll both go your own ways again soon and probably won’t ever talk again. Because sure, Azzi didn’t mind spending some time with you, but it’s not like she’d want to be your friend and deal with you all the time, right?

You get shaken out of your thoughts as the athlete speaks again. “How about we exchange numbers? You seem like a cool person to hang out with outside of school stuff,” she says, her pearly whites on display. You stare at her in shock for a moment. It feels like you somehow ended up in a movie. The pretty and popular jock befriending the shy, nerdy girl. 

“I mean, we don’t have to if you don’t wanna! No pressure!” She continues as you don’t reply. “N-n-no! That’d be n-n-n-n-,” you sigh in frustration as you clench your fist. “Jesus Christ, can I please just speak like a normal person for once?” You think to yourself. A warm hand lands on your clenched one. You look into Azzi’s eyes as she sends you an encouraging nod. 

“Exchanging n-n-numbers would be n-nice,” you stammer, but you don’t break eye contact. The athlete grins as she grabs her phone and hands it to you. You try to suppress the disappointment that goes through you when Azzi takes her hand off of yours. You give her your own phone before quickly adding yourself as a new contact in hers. A tiny grin curls on your lips as you see hers. “Azzi 🏀👸🩷”

“I need to head off. ‘ve got practice soon, but we’ll talk, yeah?” The basketball player states as she starts getting up. You follow her lead, planning on leaving your own schoolwork for some other time. You think you deserve some time to relax after how well you’d done this afternoon. “Okay, good luck at p-p-practice,” you mumble with a grin. She sends one of her own in return, as well as a playful wink, before leaving. For a minute you stand still in the quiet coffee shop, your chest warm but light. 

The smile on your face doesn’t leave for the rest of the day.

You don’t hear from Azzi the next day, but you don’t mind. (Really, you didn’t. You just kept checking your phone to uh… see if your mom had any updates on her newest plants! Or maybe your dad needed some help with his e-mails again!). Maybe it would’ve been too good to be true. What are the chances an angel like her would want to befriend you?

The following day, you don’t expect anything, either. You figure Azzi just wanted to be polite and didn’t actually want to hang out again. You’re in the middle of writing a boring essay when your phone buzzes. You know you shouldn’t look, being well aware that you’ll get distracted and push aside your work. But what if you’d gotten an important message? You eye your phone for a few seconds before rolling your eyes and grabbing it. Your breath catches in your throat as you see it’s from your… friend? Acquaintance? From Azzi.

She sent a picture of her assignment with a few happy faces. The assignment has a big red A marked on the corner. Your heart fills with happiness at the fact that she let you know she did well. You quickly send a reply congratulating her, your homework completely forgotten. 

Azzi immediately sees the message and starts typing. You quickly close out of the messages as you bite your nail nervously. When your phone buzzes once more, you look at the text through your notification bar, too anxious to let her know you’re reading it.

“Do you have any classes left today?” The message reads. You open the app again as you reply, “Nope, what about you?” You press send before throwing your phone on the bed next to you as you get up and pace around. You were glad the brunette was texting you, but at the same time, it made your anxiety skyrocket.

Buzz buzz

“I’m free for the rest of the day” “Wanna get lunch together to celebrate? My treat, as a thanks”

Your cheeks blaze a bright red at the invitation. You quickly start replying. “Lunch sounds nice :) Also you really don’t have to do that! You already paid for my coffee!!” You bite your lip anxiously, scared you’re coming on too strong with the exclamation marks. “That was a thank you for explaining the assignment, this is a thank you for getting me an A 😁” You shake your head in amusement. “I’m not going to be able to change your mind, am I?”

A giggle escapes your mouth as you see her react with a 😛. Your smile drops when you read her next message. “Text me your dorm number, I’ll come pick you up” You freeze for a moment, realizing you’re about to hang out with a pretty girl for the second time this week, and this time, you had time to prepare. Sure, it wasn’t a lot of time, but enough to make you panic about how you can fix your appearance quickly to somewhat look okay. 

You text her your room number before getting up and running to your closet. You stumble out of your pajama pants while simultaneously trying to take off your coffee-stained shirt. You hurriedly put together an outfit that looks nice but doesn’t make it seem like you’re trying too hard. After a lot of tumbling and cursing, you finally finish getting dressed. You spin around your room a few times trying to locate your hairbrush while also attempting to put on your shoes.

Once you’re happy with your appearance, you sit down on your bed and take a deep breath. “Chill before you give yourself a panic attack,” you think to yourself. Once you’ve calmed down a bit, you walk over to your desk and grab everything you’ll need later. You take one last look around your room, making sure you’ve not forgotten anything, when you hear a knock on your door. You wipe your sweaty hands on your pants before making your way towards the door.

“Hi,” Azzi says with a beaming smile. “Hi,” you grin back. You lock your door behind you before making your way down the hall with the athlete beside you. “I honestly still can’t believe I got an A on that assignment. I didn’t even know Mr. Davis gave people A’s.” Azzi starts the conversation. 

“Yeah, he r-r-rarely gives out A’s, and f-f-f-for some r-r-r-reason h-h-h-e,” you huff in annoyance with how much you’re struggling to speak right now. You shake your head a little, letting the brunette know she can ignore you. You feel a familiar heat crawl up your face.

You knew this would happen. You were hanging out with someone you barely know, who is extremely pretty, and who is definitely way too cool to be your friend. It’s a surprise you’ve been able to say some words without stuttering, with the nerves you’re feeling.

“He what?” Azzi asks, looking at you with wide eyes, her head slightly tilted with interest. Your blush burns even brighter, but this time it’s not from embarrassment but rather the adoration you have for the taller girl. “H-he seems to h-h-h-,” you clear your throat, taking a quick glance at Azzi. She still has that easy, calming smile on her face as she listens to you. “hate to give p-p-people an A… Which d-d-doesn’t make sense, because he’s a t-t-teacher, so he should be happy that his s-s-s-students score well.”

You’re surprised with yourself. You try to avoid talking as much as you can, but with Azzi it’s different. She listens to you. Really listens to you. It makes you actually want to have proper conversations with her. Because she’s the only person outside of your family and speech therapist that doesn’t seem to judge you.

Azzi chuckles as she nods her head. “Yeah, it makes no sense at all. I hate teachers like that! Why become a professor if you’re gonna hate your job and students?” You send her a grin before looking away. You continue to listen to the athlete ramble about the professors she loves and hates, adding your own opinions as well. 

You spend hours with the girl. The lunch “date” spilling over into a walk around campus as you both enjoy each other’s company. You make sure to have a pit stop for ice cream, giving the employee your card before Azzi has the chance to pay again. When hours have passed, and the skies have become a mix of oranges, pinks, and purples, you finally decide to call it a day.

The brunette walks you back to your dorm before wishing you a goodnight with the promise of another hangout soon. You give her a tiny salute, regretting it immediately when you realize what you’re doing. Your regret melts away the second you hear Azzi’s sweet laugh, her eyes crinkling as she smiles widely. She shakes her head in amusement and adoration as she gives you a salute back before leaving. 

Not long after she’s gone, you get a message saying she made it to her dorm safely. You heart the message before getting ready for bed. Your chest feels warm with giddiness as you crawl underneath your blanket. Once you finally fall asleep, you dream of a beautiful, tall girl holding your hand as you walk on the beach, without a worry in the world.

The following weeks, you and Azzi text every day. You give each other updates on how classes are going, talk about your families, and laugh at each other’s silly stories. You even arrange some more hangouts. You’ve already made plans to meet up at the library to study together, the coffee shop to give life updates, and even your dorm for movie nights. 

Your heart feels light when your parents ring you for their scheduled video call. You tell them about the new friend you’ve made and how much you’ve been enjoying university lately. Your chest is free from the familiar ache, as you don’t have to lie to them for once. You’re in the middle of recounting your latest adventure with the tall girl when your phone buzzes. You pause your story for a moment, glancing at the message. “Is that her?” Your mom interrogates you with a tiny smirk. You roll your eyes at her, but you can’t hide the smile that’s growing on your face.

“Mhm,” you hum. “She wants to h-hang out later,” you reply as your eyes linger on your phone. “We’ll let you go then, sweetie,” your dad says with an affectionate wink. You’re glad they don’t tease you any longer, saying their goodbyes. The second your laptop screen goes dark, you snatch up your phone, typing a reply. “Sounds good!”

“Great! Would you mind if my team also comes over? They wanna meet you” Azzi replies. You feel a pit form in your stomach but feel a bit calmed when you see the next message come in. “You can totally say no! No pressure :)” You feel your heart swell two sizes as you read the comforting words. The brunette always made sure you were comfortable, never making you do anything you weren’t into. She always picked up on your anxiety the second you started feeling nervous. She’d even googled all the ways you can help someone out of a panic attack after learning you struggled with them sometimes.

Azzi is your first ever friend, and you’re extremely grateful to have her in your life. You hope you two will stay friends for a long time, which is why you hate yourself for falling for her. She can never find out. She’d probably finally realize that being your friend wasn’t a good idea, and then you’d be all alone again. 

You don’t realize you’ve zoned out until your phone buzzes again. “Y/N seriously, don’t worry about it! I can see you’ve read my messages and I know you’re probably freaking out but you don’t have to, I’ll tell them now isn’t a great time :))”

You immediately start typing back. “No no! I’d love to meet them too! When should I come over?” Azzi was right, of course, you were freaking out, but that didn’t mean you were going to let her cancel on her friends for you. Besides, you really did want to get to know the girls from Azzi’s stories. If they were as great as the brunette says they are, you had nothing to worry about. You’d also seen the team pass by on your TikTok plenty of times to know they were some of the funniest people you’ll ever meet.

“I’m just chilling rn, so whenever you’re free you can come over :) the girls won’t be here for another 2h so we can relax a little before then if you want? :D” You let her know you’ll be at her dorm in 10 minutes, not even letting yourself rethink anything. You quickly get ready, giving yourself a brief glance in the mirror before leaving.

When you knock on the athlete’s door, it opens almost immediately. Your heart skips a beat as you see Azzi’s dazzling smile. “Hey! Come in, come in!” She beams. You grin as you follow her to her room. She plops down on her bed, patting it to invite you in. She grabs her laptop, putting on a show you two had started a while ago but never really cared for that much. The taller girl knew you liked having something as background noise as you talked, so all the focus and pressure wouldn’t be on you. 

You’re in the middle of a story when you see Azzi’s expression shift. She’d been looking at you with wide, interested eyes and a tiny smile as she listened, but now her eyes look softer. You can almost see a hint of… adoration? In her eyes. Her smile looks more real too. “W-what?” You stutter as your ears start burning. 

The brunette shakes her head softly before saying, “I just… I’ve noticed you’ve started stuttering less when you’re with me.” Her voice is barely louder than a whisper, but you hear it perfectly fine with how close you two are sitting. You look down, trying to not let her see the blush on your face, but you know there’s no way she could miss it.

“Y-yeah, I guess I’ve just b-b-become more comfortable around you,” you mutter back before looking her in the eyes. You see Azzi’s own cheeks change into a different shade. As she opens her mouth to reply, a knock can be heard on the door. You both jump in surprise before the athlete gets up to go open the door. 

You can feel your heart pounding in your chest, and you’re not fully sure why that is. Is it because the team had arrived? Or is it because you only just noticed how close you and Azzi were sitting when you’d jumped apart?

You take a sip of water, trying to calm your nerves. As you’re putting the bottle down, KK and Paige bounce into the room. Azzi is quick to follow, settling back down beside you and sliding her hand over yours below the blanket. A few seconds later, the other girls walk in, but you’re too overwhelmed by Paige and KK to notice. You look like a startled deer as they excitedly introduce themselves, pushing their hands towards you to shake them. Azzi doesn’t hesitate to slap their hands away with an amused grin as she shakes her head. “Can you guys please be normal for once?” She asks, sending you a smile when she hears you chuckle at her friends’ chaos.

The excited girls pout as the rest of the team introduces themselves as well. You can already feel the nerves melt away by just being near them. They just have this aura that makes you feel comfortable. Once everyone is done, you introduce yourself as well. “H-h-hey, I’m-m Y/N, it’s nice to m-m-m-meet you guys.” 

You see KK’s eyes widen a little at your stutter before she looks over at Paige. The blonde immediately gives her a little push with a quick shake of her head. They’re subtle enough that no one else notices, but you’d grown up watching the people around you and blending in, so it wasn’t a surprise you’d caught their interaction. You send Paige a thankful smile, sending KK a grin as well to let her know you aren’t upset. You’re used to people giving you looks when they hear you stammer. You also know that the team didn’t mean anything bad by it, they probably just didn’t expect it.

The girls all find a spot to settle down in, some on the floor, some on the beanbag in the corner of the room, while KK sits on Azzi’s desk chair, spinning it in circles. As you all hang out, your smile never leaves your face. Have you ever laughed this much before? If you weren’t chuckling at Paige’s sass, you were laughing at KK’s dramatics. During the rare moments when they shut up, Nika’s voice fills the air as she teases the younger girls. The constant murmur of voices makes you feel a type of comfort you’ve never felt before.

Right now, you’re listening to a funny story Paige is telling as KK and Ice squabble in their corner of the room. You feel lighter than air with the relief of feeling like you finally fit in. Thankfully, Azzi is there to ground you. Somehow, you two have ended up fully leaning against each other, the brunette’s arm around your waist. You don’t know how you got here, but you weren’t complaining. 

You can feel yourself becoming a bright shade of red as Paige glances at Azzi’s hand on your hip before looking up at you and wiggling her eyebrows. You look down as you try to hide your blush and the smile that can’t seem to leave your face. Feeling the brunette squeeze your side, you look over at her with a raised eyebrow. She mouths the words, “Are you okay?” making sure you’re doing alright without alerting the others. You stare at her lips a moment longer than you should before sending her a tight-lipped smile and a nod. 

You quickly look back at Paige, checking to see if she’d noticed the whole interaction. The blue-eyed girl is already facing you with a smug look. You roll your eyes and stick your tongue out playfully, feeling a bit surprised at how at ease you feel, even after getting teased.

When the skies become a dark shade of gray, the team slowly starts dispersing. The girls all give you their number, demanding you all hang out again soon. Paige is the last to leave, sending you both a sleepy wave as she closes the door behind her. You don’t miss the sly wink she sends your way when Azzi turns towards you.

You sit up a bit straighter as you stretch your arms and crack your back. The brunette sends you a playful look of disgust, scrunching up her nose as she hears your joints pop. You give her a wide, innocent grin. “I should get g-going,” you sigh, not wanting to part with the girl just yet. “Stay,” Azzi says, her voice barely above a whisper. You look back at her, a little shocked at the request. Her brown eyes meet yours. Her shoulders look a little more tense than usual, but her face looks calm and steady. “Okay,” you whisper back.

Azzi’s shoulders immediately relax as she sends you a soft smile. She gets up and walks over to her closet, finding you something to wear. “Is this okay?” She asks, holding up a pair of her shorts and a shirt with her basketball number on it. “Mhm,” you hum, trying not to blush at the fact that you’ll be wearing her clothes, her number. 

After she hands you the clothes, you walk over to the bathroom and get ready for bed. You take an extra minute to let your face cool down after seeing yourself in the mirror. Once you’ve calmed down, you walk back into the bedroom and over to Azzi’s bed. The athlete’s eyes linger on you for a moment before she briskly walks into the bathroom to get ready herself. 

You don’t see the brunette’s reddened cheeks as she goes to hide. You can’t tell Azzi is splashing water in her face to calm down as her mind goes a million miles per hour at how cute you look in her clothes. You’re completely unaware of the fact that your crush is fully losing her mind about the fact that she has fallen for you. 

When Azzi returns, she crawls into the bed next to you, sliding down so you’re face to face. Your left hand is lying under your head, as your right lays between you two. She mimics your position before slowly sliding her hand into yours. Azzi sends you a soft smile, receiving one of your own in return. The smile doesn’t leave your face as you fall asleep staring at the angel in front of you.

When you wake up the next morning, the bed feels cold and empty. You frown a little as you get up. You pad over to the bathroom, scratching your head when you don’t see Azzi in there either. You swiftly get ready before making your way to the living room. You immediately see Paige and Azzi as they’re leaning over the kitchen counter. They’re both leaning in close, talking in hushed voices, before the blonde notices you in the doorway. She loudly clears her throat, straightening up as she exclaims, “Y/N! Good morning!”

“M-morning,” you say softly, sending Azzi a raised eyebrow. You wonder if something is wrong when she sends you an awkward smile that looks more like a grimace than anything. Noticing her look, Paige gives her a tiny push with her elbow before walking over to you. “So, do you have any classes today?” She asks. 

“Y-yeah, in an hour… I should probably head b-b-back to my dorm to get r-r-ready,” you reply as you grab your stuff. You give Azzi a questioning look as she awkwardly stands behind Paige, looking down at the floor.

“Okay, w-well… See you guys l-later, I guess,” you say as you give them a small wave before leaving. You hear Paige turn to Azzi and say, “Oh my God, bro,” as you close the door with a small frown. Did you do something wrong? Did she find out you have a crush on her, and did she hate you?

You barely pay attention to your classes, still too focused on the way Azzi was acting this morning. Around noon, she texts you, wishing you good luck in Mr. Davis’ class, like she always does. You feel a bit more at ease, figuring you’re probably overthinking stuff. The athlete sends you her usual good night message when she goes to bed, as well as a routine good morning. You let the weird morning fall to the back of your mind as you both continue everything like normal.

Your nerves flare up again when a few days pass and Azzi doesn’t text you anything other than a good morning. She doesn’t even look at the messages you send in return, though she usually replies within a few minutes. By the time it’s noon and hours have passed, you’re pacing your dorm so much, you think you might leave a walking trail on the carpet. You’re biting your nails, the pit in your stomach growing by the minute. Your mind is floating with thoughts of something having happened to her or her not wanting to be your friend anymore. 

You get shaken out of your thoughts when you hear a knock on the door. You quickly walk over, hoping it’s the girl you can’t stop thinking about. When you open the door, you lose your breath for a moment. In front of you, Azzi is standing, holding a bouquet of your favorite flowers. She swallows harshly, looking at you nervously but also with determination. 

She clears her throat a little, gripping the flowers a bit harder. “Hi,” she says. “Hi,” you breathe out, staring at her with wide eyes. “Listen, I… I really like you and… Damn it, I had this whole speech planned, but now that I’m here, I’m completely blanking,” she says as she starts frowning, looking at the floor. 

You take a step closer to her, now standing halfway into the hallway. “Azzi…” you whisper, biting your lip to stop yourself from smiling. She looks back up at you before taking a deep breath. “I really like you, and it’s completely fine if you don’t like me back, but… I was wondering if you wanted to go out with me?” She says, trusting the flowers forward. You take them with a wide smile. “I’d love t-that,” you reply.

Your heart skips another beat as her face brightens. She pulls you into a hug, squeezing you tightly while making sure not to crush the flowers. You wrap your arms around her waist as you put your face in the crook of her neck. Inhaling deeply, you relax into her hold. You pinch yourself, making sure you’re not dreaming, grinning even wider when you realize you’re not.

You let go of each other as you hear a “YES!” from a few feet away. You both look towards the end of the hallway, seeing Paige peeking around the corner. The girl’s eyes widen as she quickly moves back behind the wall. You giggle as Azzi huffs. “I swear that girl cannot be normal.” “HEY!” The blonde yells back but doesn’t show herself. “Nor can she be subtle!” Azzi raises her voice. “Sorry!” Paige apologizes before you hear her retreating footsteps.

You grin up at Azzi, who’s rolling her eyes in amusement. “Sorry about that. I practiced my speech with her and told her to stay in our dorm, but she’s Paige, so she didn’t listen.” You shake your head, your eyes twinkling in entertainment as you pull the brunette into your dorm. 

You two have a date to plan, after all.

[baphometsss]

my childfreeness is projecting again so here, have some of my childfree headcanons

Solas is sterile because he's old as fuck and his balls just don't make baby batter like they used to (Trick lk confirmed this teehee 🩷)

Did they ever work though?? I mean he literally just manifested as a fully grown man like all the ancient elves did. Iirc that's why modern elves don't have DNA. We never seem to find out when they started having babies naturally so it's possible he was always sterile (kind of like in TRC when Ronan pulls people out of his dreams and they don't even have internal organs)

Taleani Lavellan has always liked spirits and animals more than people because they're kind of uncomfortable around kids and people in general so not breeding is a very natural choice for them

Not to say they don't care about them at all bc she had a duty as her clan's midwife and helped all the new mothers out etc but she just doesn't have a clue how to talk to kids and has no desire to learn

Solas also doesn't know wtf to do around kids and either ignores them or talks to them like they're fully grown adults while they stare back at him blankly

He also canonically doesn't like loud noises and bollocks Blackwall for training the kids right outside his room in DAI

"Not now kitten Daddy's lamenting his war crimes and I have to talk him down again"--Lavellan probably

Being childfree makes them focus on each other a whole lot more. Makes me think about that old photo of some soldier returning from war to meet his kid for the first time ever and just shoving it under his arm upside down so he can kiss his wife. That would be Solas as a dad

Seriously they would have 0 time for that kid while the other was present . Tough luck kiddo your mother's wearing a low cut top today and her titties look divine. Go play in the Fade and don't come back for at least a couple of hours

Straight up Gomez and Morticia Addams if the kids weren't there

Absolutely fucking awful parents . No time to be normal when there are blighted titans to deal with

Also they can explore the Fade much further and learn so much more without having to get a spirit babysitter in

They can nerd out over all the new discoveries they make and do all the dangerous experiments they like without having to worry about the safety of a person with no sense of danger

They can have impromptu shags on the kitchen table and not worry about getting walked in on and scarring that kid mentally with their outrageous sex life

When they're stressed from a hard day of titan soothing and they just want to relax and talk they don't have to fight the bedtime battle or deal with whatever stinky mess the kid made

Lavellan doesn't have to worry about losing her teeth, or becoming incontinent, or having any of the myriad health issues that arise from pregnancy and childbirth with limited resources to do anything about it

Solas can teach Lavellan how to take a big wolf form like him once he binds her to his life force so they can live forever and it won't endanger the kid

Taleani doesn't give a shit about having a legacy but who needs one anyway if you live forever?

No kids stuff littering the house means more space for books and dangerous artefacts and frescoes that won't get ruined by sticky hands

No arguments about how to best raise a child. Just arguments about philosophy and war crimes

No kids mean they can sleep all they want and have epic dream escapades without interruptions

Just. No kids in the Fade prison allowed. Or the Fade. Or within a 500 mile radius of Solas and Lavellan. Seriously who the hell thought that was a good idea in the first place

[on-a-lucky-tide]

this is very specific but you’re british so i hope you can understand the. wow football is ingrained in british culture. and that im not just insane

have you got any headcanons for what football team different cod characters would support?

It is. I'm a Rugby player myself, but my stepdad is a huge football fan so I was around it by osmosis. Yeah, it's huge in British culture. Sometimes not a good thing.

Price: he's a Red. Liverpool through and through. Some of his few positive memories of the old man are when he used to attend the Merseyside Derby against Everton, or, controversially, on the anniversary of the Hillsborough disaster. Price was four when it happened so every year of his living memory he belted out "Never Walk Alone" and then stood in silence alongside a stadium of fans; his old man remained bloody sober as a "mark of respect". It was always a good day. He has a scarf on his office wall, and a signed-by-Jamie Redknapp copy of Shoot magazine that is probably worth a few quid. It's bittersweet because it was signed the same year his life kinda went to shit. He started playing Rugby at Sandhurst because it was a good way to ingratiate himself with the posh boys, and because he is Price he excelled at it. He became the best Fly Half the Army had ever had. But he still retains his love of football and he has a season ticket for Anfield that he insists on using at least a few times a year.

Ghost: Manchester City. It was a toss up between United and City, but I chose City for a couple of reasons. I headcanon that Simon is from Longsight East, which is the most deprived area of Manchester. A 2012 survey demonstrated that there is a general east-south support for Manchester City, and north-west support for United. Longsight East is about three miles south of the city centre. Also, City are known for revelling in adversity, which fits Ghost. They have some of The Most Brutal chants, and they have a rivalry with Liverpool. So Price and Ghost will be at loggerheads in the lead up to a match, and then the loser has to wear the other team's colours under their carrier vest and/or shirt the next day. I also believe that his old man supported United and young Simon probably grew up having brawls in the street with drunk adult men who didn't care he was just a kid; there's a scar on his belly from a broken bottle that caught him when he was thirteen. He hates United.

Gaz: I think Gaz is from North London (projection, beloved) so he has to be a Gunner. Arsenal. He has a stuffed Gunnersaurus Rex that he takes with him in his duffel. It was gifted to him by one of his sisters to keep him safe when he enlisted and god fuckin' help the dozy cunt who tries to steal it for ransom. Soap made that mistake once and was looking over his shoulder for a full week after. Gaz grew up kicking about in the streets around his estate, and he was scouted for the academy before he decided his future belonged in the armed forces. Football kept him away from county lines and all that BS though, and focused him in on what mattered; school and sport. Gaz never got involved in any of the drinking or the hooliganism. For him, it's about the athleticism, the skill and the beauty of the game.

[lvrboy-inc]

<< ✩ >>

sum • A gluttonous artist Suguru and a muse whose value lies at the end of said artist’s brush. Wrapped up in an entanglement of web spiraling ever down into the world of raw artistry.

pov • m!reader

wc • 7.2k

details • Suguru x reader, Satoru Gojo, Shoko Ieiri, Kento Nanami, nepotism, social hierarchy, multi-part series, ongoing, heavy themes, mlm, smut, jjk fanfics, x reader, art college au timeline, poetry.

Color of Eternity • Hex

Swatch #081B45

————

How do you define the word..muse?

To visualize a muse in the eyes of everyone else, of all 8 billion walks of human life on this Earth—you’d come full circle in a matter of milliseconds. In that split moment, you would see that the root of motivation, drive, passion, pursuit and ultimately undying faith is never one singular thing.

No, a muse is..is a concept. A paradigm of something, someplace, someone, that gives your life meaning. That gives every step you take a purpose, makes you feel worthy of each inhale and exhale leading to an inevitable demise. All blissfully hopeful that it’ll have all been worth it.

That you have lived out your life through your muse, dedicated, bled, sweat, and cried your everything into having that sliver of a chance to recreate something that no mortal bounds can ever really capture—emotion.

Not in its entirety, at least.

Take Suguru Geto, for example:

A prodigy of the visual arts. All walks of media and textiles, ranging from photography and all the way up into sculpting with nails and hammers—he had it all on his lengthy résumé. It was what ultimately drew you in about him. 

To say he was gifted couldn’t respectfully cover the way he was renowned in the art community, wholly. It was arranged for him from birth and by what some call an angel’s touch, art graced his natural instincts. His parents, who were nothing short of aristocrats if they were limited by a democratic government. 

So, with that sort of generational wealth, names, titles and overall reputation—it was no surprise that the family poured all of their investments into making him the best. To make him earn his namesake and paint the world the same violet as his deep pools of irises. 

And boy, did he do just that. 

Working tirelessly, day and night on lesson to lesson enrolled by his parents. Repeating the lines over and over, erasing and drawing again, just to draw up the same thing but better each and every single time. 

Until his hands would cramp, until his pencils would run into nubs, until the paint on the walls dried, until he memorized the dimensions of each page by one simple glance at the edges, until he could properly name any hex code based off look alone, until he could tell the type of hair used for each imported brush.

He became the best. Going on to win several academy awards, graduating from the same Ivy League art college with valedictorian and top marks twice—both in entirely different artistic fields. Suguru was nothing short of a God in the art world. Having traveled and seen national level organizations for his works.

But…the exact definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over..and over and over again, expecting a different result each time. 

Having the teachings of art cultures, etiquettes, techniques, customs for countries all across the globe is no small feat. Climbing up that hill, finding out how these different fragrances of creativity are all made, how they smell, how they taste, how they operate, how they bend, break, mold—that was the easy part. That was what he had mastered and conquered. 

All of that achievement and empty, blanking copy paste can never replace finding out..why they do.

Why the cathedral’s architect lives on inside, designing the same structures repeatedly to watch them all mortalize and be gazed upon by the masses of lamb. Why the photographer runs through miles and miles of film each and every day—thousands of prints and hours in that blasted red room, watching the ink settle and make a home out of the light-sensitive paper. Why the painter works with broken brushes and stale paint, just to get the last blank space filled in on the canvas:

Suguru doesn’t have that.

Outside the glitz, the glamour, the initial feeling and rushes of euphoria he drew from that love, that pure adoration that came of his first years exploring and honing his art—there was an ever-present and ever-nearing null that marred his every artistic act.

Dull and gray should never be integrated into an artist’s vocabulary. How could someone who knew color theory like scripture possibly see…monochrome in the very blendings of oil and acrylic that he so adored..?

Had it been the childhood bubble bursting too fast? Being tossed into the jaws of harsh critics, of being taught art in languages he could barely comprehend, his parents..oh, that’s a story for another time. 

All this is to say…he lacked what all artists subconsciously create in their minds, from the moment they give their first swipe of a pencil, stroke of a brush or hell, even chip at a stone—a muse.

Not to quote history but..that’s where you came in. 

In all actuality, you’d entered the narrative before you even knew you were a part of it. 

All those years ago, you too had paid a visit from your neighboring college, volunteering to be a model for the Ivy League. You’d already stood in once, for a day and you were just simply perfect for the job. A natural melt to your skin, making every limb and crevice seem all the more enticing and alluring to any naked eye. 

The talk of the campus you were, everyone couldn’t get the, “model from the 3D painting wing,” off their lips for what felt like forever—even after you’d taken your leave to drive that hour back to your own college.

Well, that school basically lapped at Suguru’s feet. Akin to that of Mr. Water to Wine himself—the students would go out of their way to appeal to his outwardly business-casual and oh-so drawing charms. Everyone wanted to be all up under Suguru. 

However comma, there were possibly two other people who could rank up anywhere close to him in his artistic prowess and popularity. 

Satoru Gojo—a sculpting major whose skills matched Suguru’s easily, if not surpassed at times. Hands of magic and pure precision that had quite literally gone into designing the statues that stood there present day—a parting gift from their now-alumni. 

Then, there was Shoko Ieiri, a woman as sharp and witty as she was cunning and cutthroat. Also the head of the photography and cinematography majors. Dual-enrollment was certainly a perk when it wanted to be—earning her advanced education programs but the ability to cater both specialities separately and furthermore, integrate them together. 

Closer than anything, Satoru was the one who inevitably came barreling into Suguru during passing hour, calling him up to rapt attention as he spewed out the rumors that everyone’s been simply buzzing about. 

“Yeah man, he’s like, totally your type. I think he was jus’ visiting or somethin’ because uh..no one’s seen him around campus,” the albino-haired man relayed, arm lazily slung over his friend’s shoulder as he pulled an elongated frown. “Total bummer—I got to see him ‘n you didn’t~” sing sang.

Suguru only shrugged off the words and failed to remove the latch that Satoru had on his shoulder whilst they stalked through the open courtyard. “Please. You think every model we get is hot, Satoru,” he reasoned to his smug-lipped companion. “What’s the big deal with this one? Oh no wait, let me guess, he blinked your way?” 

No amount of prestige could really conceal entirely the fact that Satoru was..well, a dog. A sly dog. So any sort of evaluation that he gave based on looks alone had to be at least some type of true. Not like Suguru’d admit that out loud. With Satoru’s ego? He’d never hear the end of it. 

“No dude, seriously. I think you should go for it. You’ve got daddy’s money for days,” Satoru drawled, pressing an index from Suguru’s chest and down in a way that made the raven swat his hand away. “I’m sure you could find ‘n get that cutie to come pay your studio a visit.”

Getting to the glass doors of the next wing due for lecture, Suguru simply shrugged, finally getting Satoru off him as the door threatened to close on the more flamboyant of the two. “Yeah, sure. I’ll ask a random art student, ‘Come back to model for my school again, I didn’t get to see you the first time’ and he definitely won’t consider a restraining order.”

“Maybe if it comes from Suguru Geto instead of just Suguru, then you might have a better chance. Abuse your power a little, you’ve got status for a fuckin’ reason,” Satoru left off on a slight bitter, lacing his fingers through the back of his hair, beginning to backpedal in the opposite direction of Suguru once reaching the fork in the hallway. “Quit bein’ a pussy and just go for it. Let me know when he rolls back around.”

“You’ll, in fact, be the very last to know on the astronomically slim chance that he does make an appearance in my class, upon my say-so.” it was already too late for trying to get the last word, seeing as Satoru was already disappearing with a small flow a people who wound up swallowing his form in mere seconds. The abrupt and what felt like unfulfilled ending to the conversation made Suguru’s brow flinch downward a tick. 

Blowing off the entire interaction, Suguru did everything in his power—quite successfully, to add—to put the faceless model out of his mind, along with the airheaded words of Satoru’s. 

‘Daddy’s Money’—he was one to talk. 

The hallways were already clearing and Suguru looked lone standing there in the large foyer like it was his first day. Only a flick of his midnight ends over his shoulder and he was carrying himself off to his designated amphitheater. He was working with clay today, so at least there was that to look forward to.

Except..even in the toss and turn of the earthy material, fingers coated in a layer of slip as he toiled away in his own section of the silent session with different scalpels and colors, his mind was only dragging back and back toward the stranger who’s existence he only knew by word of mouth.

It ate at him.

For what felt like an era, he simply ran through the rest of his classes—on autopilot if you will—up until he’d skipped out on walking to his dorms with Satoru. Suguru knew he’d have to face the brazen-tongued man again, even when he went to the dormitories later. 

Why? Well, guess who just so happened to room with him. Yeah, it was an ecstatic idea when they’d first begun to become acquainted, really getting into the swing of things in their friendships and pulling a few strings. As of recent, it had been a bit of the opposite.

Satoru was as nosy as he was talkative. Never would he confirm having a malicious intent but his actions spoke louder than his sugarcoated falsehoods. Even when one sounded sweeter.

So, having to return back there now would evidently put another dent in Suguru’s brain. He’d only revisit the same subject from earlier that had already plagued his daily thought track. All Suguru needed was to clear his head of the whole ordeal—right? 

Forget he ever heard of the mysterious model whom he’d never even got to see. Photos weren’t allowed in the studios, or phones in general when references stepped into the box or simply took position. Definitely not if they were…

Gross, Suguru chastised silently, snapping his thoughts up to the boy’s dormitory, yellow hues draping down the tall building whilst people filed off the courtyard. 

He’d usually wait for Satoru here, see how classes went, ask what’s for dinner, typical dismissal conversation as they made their way. Be that as it may, it wasn’t the most warming of weather and Satoru wasn’t exactly his favorite person at the moment. 

That revelation alone was enough for him to scoff, take a look over at where Satoru was meant to file out of and turn his head directly away. The dorms had a curfew but Suguru could make it—on time or no. 

Suguru’s attention was prejudiced to Satoru in the moment and all he honed in on was taking brisk steps off campus, easily slipping out of the front gates and into the barrening parking lot. Sliding into the driver’s seat, already, he’d received texts from Satoru on his whereabouts and those he brushed off as well.

He couldn’t possibly talk to Satoru, knowing that he’d effectively influenced his actions. How so? Suguru had already pulled up your school. Searching through and skimming to see if your name would’ve shown out as some sort of outlier or staple but..it hit him. 

What was your name? 

Out of everything Satoru had gone and flapped his lips about, your name was never one of them. Great, no name, no face, no nothing. He might as well have gone in and put up a blank missing poster. 

If he went to Satoru about it, then he’d know that Suguru was actually considering what he’d said—or to at least reach out. And to deal with him when his pride was puffed up became unbearable at times. 

Psychologically pacing and refreshing his notifications a few times, he finally opened Satoru’s messages, not to read but to click off and scroll through his contacts. Like most who have a bit of a following or nuance, read receipts weren’t on for Suguru. 

He scrolled for a bit before pulling a relieved smile at Shoko’s name. That woman was like an earth worm, in the sense she heard everything and got every detail for basically anything around campus. She had that personality about her that made one feel as though they could confess their deepest and have it under lock and key.

Whether or not that’s true was all dependent on the person and their own actions.

Though..for this…there was no way she couldn’t help Suguru out. Correction—no way that she wouldn’t help him out. Easily flicking her inbox open, fingers began to type out the message: 

S.G. Hey, need a favor.

S.I. This about that modeling guy, right?

Eyeing his screen up and down for a moment, he was not only caught up on the speed of her reply but the fact she predicted what he was going to say. 

S.G.  …

S.G. He already told you?

S.I.  Of course. When does Gojo not run his mouth to me? 

S.G.  True..but, anyway. I was thinking about things and..

Before he could properly register what he was going to give next:

S.I. Your art block? Yeah. If we think about that then I say you go for it.

S.G. Why are you bringing that up now? This is just another person with a pretty face and some nice collarbones that drive the angle thirsters crazy. Satisfying to put on paper—it’s an art school. I’m simply curious and nothing more. 

There weren’t any quick-witted texts that followed. 

S.G. So..

S.G. Just keep Satoru’s nose out of this one. I’ll address him how I will about the situation but until then, please just keep him in the dark.

S.I. He’s going to find out eventually. 

Always the voice of reason, Suguru groaned in the front of his mind. 

S.G. And by then, it’ll already be a done deal. Just a bit of profile stalking and I’ll be able to get rid of this morbid curiosity. 

S.I. On it, then. Give me 30.

S.G. Thank you.

S.I. Don’t thank me, Geto. I’m simply giving you what you’re asking for.

S.G. Okay, ominous. Turning my phone off now.

And that he did, easily sliding his cellular into the cup holder and running his hands over his face. Taking a deep breath in, his eyes peered through the mirror in the overhead visor. He could see himself there, murky seldom staring back from the reflection before he closed it up, breathing out deeply as he slumped down in the driver’s.

Was he really about to go through with this..? Thoughts slid back to his earlier mention of restraining orders, making a grimace cross his features briefly. 

You’re overthinking it, he chastised to himself, relaxing his posture and coming to lean his head back against the rest. Just then, though, his phone started buzzing in pulses within the hardened plastic of the cup holder. 

His fingers drifted over to lift it up, finding three different links and a singular text that came prior to.

S.I. Just so we’re clear, you got none of this from me.

Underneath it being screenshots of not only an Instagram and courses of study but even your class schedule. 

Now..Suguru has never really researched other people outside of artists whose methods he replicated or integrated into his works. So looking at their social media, lifestyles, past and present school information was nothing. 

Though now, knowing he wasn’t looking for any sort of artistic pursuit—yet—brought a tinge of red to his otherwise milky skin. Hissing out a low sigh, he simply replied:

S.G. Thanks. Don’t know who you are.

Dipping his head back once more, dragging his fingertips through his neck-length, pitch dark tresses, bringing his phone up to lay in his hand closer to the wheel. 

Finally, he worked up the balls to actually click on one of the links—the first—your course of study. Sitting back a bit and setting up his elbow on the window, Suguru pressed his cheek up against his knuckles. 

Then, he started scrolling. 

Turns out, you were..nobody and something big, simultaneously. 

A psychology, as well as a fine art major with a minor in modeling and fashion design. Impressive enough, Suguru went over in his head. Though, only one swipe down and he got to see your pieces.

It took a few blinks to settle in to the ranges he was looking at. If one were to call you “talented”, it would reasonably be insulting for the amount of time and effort that went into each individual product. 

From dresses thread and woven, with impossible stitching patterns enhanced by a good lens—accessory assortments of grandeur—to paintings and even some murals done for interior designs.

Dissecting each detail had to be the highlight of looking at everything his eyes were laid upon. “Holy shit..” the only appropriate breath that Suguru could get out at the moment, soon catching as he went lower.

Your modeling portfolio. 

Typically, models are shown next to the work of the artist but since that was literally your minor, they just had..you. 

Easily the best part of Suguru’s little stalking trip on your college website. But now he did regret not seeing you when you’d initially paid the campus a visit. Satoru..was right. Not like Suguru didn’t get the inkling previously, only now it was much more apparent.

To put in layman’s terms—you weren’t easy to draw. You had the kind of figure that a creator of any artistic field would work days and nights to try and capture in the perfect image. His comment about your collarbones hadn’t been way off either.

You were always adorned in some sort of cloth or something that hung off loosely, transparent in some cases but never quite testing the boundaries of work ethics. 

And always, always equipped with a..blindfold? For each and every photo, painting, it was a repeated and what seemed like mandatory garment.

Suguru took up the phone a bit closer, turning it sideways to even get a clearer view. Head to toe, it was like there wasn’t a thing out of place. The poses that you portrayed and the emotion that filtered through each stance and anatomical placement.

All of it was intentional and he could read that through your body alone. He was wrestling thoughts that he couldn’t pin down and ultimately clicked his phone off, slipping out of his car. The door closed firmly behind him as he hiked his bag up on his shoulder.

Overreacting. Right. He was just overreacting. 

How long had it been since..he got flustered just by looking at someone..? Like a damn teenager, he caught a hint of suggestion and wound up letting that dictate his heart rate. 

Nevertheless—did that stop him from contacting Shoko again to get your number just 30 minutes later? 

No. Of course not.

What did put a halt to his hasty series of events was his own inhibitions. It was already dark at this point— getting there. Suguru was ultimately a stranger to you and he was going to call you up at this estranged hour in order to get you to come model again..? 

It didn’t sound any better no matter how many times he thought it over. What if you asked just how he got your number? 

Times like these, Satoru would’ve been on his shoulder or typing the digits in on his own and tossing it back to him after two rings. 

But he couldn’t risk that with you. He didn’t want to. 

Not after seeing the raw ability that dripped off everything that you created and you, yourself. These factors at play, you still weren’t..known. It certainly wasn’t by coincidence—skills such as yours weren’t hidden so easily. 

A cacophony of different thoughts—even taking a bit to realize he hadn’t even checked the other link nor your class schedule—and Suguru was calmly pacing back and forth behind his car, taking a detoxifying breath as he leaned up against the trunk.

Leap of faith, more like a plummet into the abyss. Never the romantic pursuer, only the charming eye candy, actually wanting to go after someone..ah, correction—wanting someone to “model” for him—wasn’t his jurisdiction.

Once more, Satoru would’ve fit in phenomenally here. He’s always giving and taking numbers—calling each sorority twice in a day one time—easily putting himself out there. 

That wasn’t Suguru.  

The amount of logic Suguru poured into his relationships didn’t allow him to properly just leave the word “love” lying around. With Satoru, you could give him a piece of candy and he’d childishly say he loves you for it. 

When Suguru said the word “love” it was too weighty to even feel right after it left his lips. Casual hookups or flings were considered damn-near impossible to the raven. Standing with shaky hands and breaths, he decided to at least make the call worth it. 

“I’m..Suguru Geto. Not just..Suguru.” he reassured himself aloud. “Right,” breathed as he steadily typed in the number—that Shoko had so graciously handed over—into the keypad of his phone.

Thumb hovering over the green dial button, Suguru gave it a second then a third thought and pressed it. 

Then came the dreaded rings of the call trying.

One, two…three…

Click!

Your voice groggily exhaled out over the line, “Hello?” Already curled up tight in your sheets for an evening nap, you examined your screen, already trying to see if you recognized the number. You didn’t. Probably spam..I’ll prank ‘em if I’m bored enough, you thought up in your faint sleep haze.

“Hi,” Suguru’s voice basically purred over the line. That woke you up. More like woke your body up. “Is this..” gosh, with how he said it, you’d think you were being renamed for a second.

Coughing out a clearing of your throat, you sat upright in your bed a bit. “Yes, this is he..who is this?” you evenly replied.

Suguru’s hand that wasn’t holding his phone adjusted on the hood of his car. “Geto. Suguru, Geto. I believe you modeled for a department at my school not too long ago?” 

Pause button—everyone knows Suguru Geto. The Geto family alone was one of, if not the largest name within the city you were in, hell, in the entire coast to add on. So when you heard his name, there was a small gasp that you took in, soon hoping that it missed his ears.

“Modeling? I uh- uhuh. The campus a bit up north, yes?” hiding the waver to your tone under a mask of uncertainty in your words. “..That was a while back…you..y-you heard of me?” 

No way did you just stutter. You hadn’t stuttered in years—thank goodness for distance because your ears were burning up already, in color and in metaphor. “I did. A colleague of mine..” Suguru glanced off to the boy’s dormitory building that was still shimmering in the far end of the courtyard. “He pointed you out to me. Was real impressed.”

“So..if I may interject,” piping up, your head gave a slight tilt into your phone’s receiver, “Were..you impressed? Is that why you called, sir?”

Scoffing, Suguru rolled his eyes at the honorific, “Please, I’m barely a year your senior—just call me Suguru,” he said, even as he was bringing a hand to the lower half of his face, a mock attempt at clearing the dash of flush there. “And..you could say something like that.”

“Right, because the great Suguru doesn’t throw around his praises so easily,” in a testy, playful lilt.

It must’ve been humorous, seeing as that earned a wry leaving his lips. Had he sized you up too quickly? Suguru expected you to be a bit more..refined, in reference to your works—the seldom in how you took your photos next to them—and for that to transfer into a personality he’d have to chip at.

But it was..so easy to talk to you.

“I give my praises to those who deserve it. Simple as that,” hummed. “But I’ll say that you..piqued my interest, is all.” 

You could tell he was trying to hold up that professionalism with burly arms but even so, his interest that was a little more than piqued with you easily wafted over through his words. “Ah, but..I had…a request.” Don’t fuck up, loud in his head.

“Ask away. I’m honored the Suguru Geto even bothered to call my phone.” a little too honest but it was honest. 

Getting recognized or scouted by someone of his standing was what every small artist dreamt of. Having a conversation with him now didn’t even feel real. What was he going to say next? 

Suguru swallowed down slowly, as if swallowing down every diversion that wanted to continue on his proposition and his lips parted for him to speak once again. “Modeling—would you do it again? I mean..for this school.”

“For your school, you mean?” you’d rephrased lightly, shifting your ankles at a cross on your sheets as you settled your body against your raised knees.

“Uh..yeah. My school.” Suguru could feel his palms sweating—holding his breath. Had he not done enough prep for the ask? It was obvious you knew who he was but to assume your level of intrigue would be..entitled or even run along the thin lines of narcissism. 

Though, it wasn’t so completely obvious that you were underlyingly swooning. Not in the sense you were head over heels, no. Similar to how a piano player would react to seeing the person who wrote their favorite piece of sheet music.

A subtle, cordial freak out.

Too caught up in the question that he’d just asked—what to say following—you only piped up when you realized how longing your silence was becoming. “I-I mean, I’m not declining—in no way declining—but..may I ask..why?”

“You sure do love asking questions,” he smoothed back.

Catching that faint of a purr again, you weakly cleared your throat. “Sorry-”

“It’s a good trait.” adjoining his previous statement too late. “Something that we look for..here. You’ve…sort of been on everyone’s mind on campus and I just..” his voice trailed.

“You just..”

Suguru bit his lip on the other line, trying to figure out he was going to verbalize how exactly he felt about you without sounding blunt but simultaneously not..a bit out of it.

Choosing that the latter was better, he began, moving his phone to his other hand and moving to the side of the car. Getting back in the driver’s, securing the door, he breathed out. “I’m trying to scout you.”

“Scout me?” 

“Yes, that..is what I said,” Suguru nodded along. “I’m just..giving you a chance to be the better that I see.”

An instant warm flash up your neck and spreading across your face, you took a deep breath and completely flopped back down into your pillow. “Why..me, of all?” you sighed solemnly.

“If you make the trip, I can show you. You know the atmospheres of our studios, it’ll be easier to accentuate my point in person, in that environment.” He knew he was starting to sound pushy, so, he leaned his seat all the way back slowly. “So..are you free anytime? If anything, I can make a personal request for you to make the whole attendance situation even out.”

Brushing your wrist over your eyes, you licked your lips absentmindedly. “And how am I to explain my abscence outside of academics..? How do you think my friends will react if I just up and leave?”

Trying not to sound irritated at your insistence, Suguru smiled smally. “I’ll handle that.”

“Aand..work I’ll miss?” 

“Do you want to be escorted over here or shall I press this pretty red button and leave you to your evening?” Well, so much for hiding that irritation.

You caught every wind of it, pressing your tongue along the upper set of your teeth. “Friday works for me.” you finally gave. 

“I’ll make a call,” Suguru calmly put. “In the meanwhile..just uh..text me if you need anything. Do you..need anything?” he hastily added.

You shook your head, quickly switching to a soft “No, Suguru,” whenever you realized he couldn’t exactly see your silent negation. “That’ll be all.”

Suguru could sense the tension that now lingered in your words. Leave on good terms. “I’ll..be looking forward to our next meeting. Truly.”

“…Me too,” said gently, “Have a good night, Suguru Geto.” 

“And the reciprocal, but..if I may, one little question.” 

“Proceed, cautiously.”

Forcing his heart to stop overlapping with your voice, he spoke all in one breath, “Why the blindfold?”

To this day, you still deny that that gasp left you when he asked. Immediately, an exhale, “Good night, Suguru.” and dial tone click.

The very first thing that you did was turn fully over onto your stomach, burying your face into your pillow and giving one good and entirely justified scream. Both out of frustration and fluster. It was really starting to set in that you’d just been scouted by the Suguru Geto. 

Your body was just as animated, feet fluttering with light thuds down onto the mattress to coincide along your little fit. When you finally got the last bit of audio out of your lungs, you peered your eyes over your forearm. Looking through your strands that obstructed a bit of your vision, you got a concerned and mildly condescending side glance from your roommate.

The classical bookworm who was increasingly more wizened than the average enabler of your surrounding parties. A pretty blond, Greek art historian and poet: Kento Nanami. Or your life-long confidant and companion. 

You two had essentially grown up side by side. Two anti-socialists who found connection through the intricacies of creation. “Best friends” would be nothing if not inappropriate to describe your bond. Though, lovers is far from the truth. 

Nanami was the voice of reason and the person who kept your head screwed—relatively—tight on your shoulders. 

Though, that voice of reason can get grating. Which it was now as he looked up from his desk, taking off those thinly framed glasses that had been assisting him with the literature on the dark polished mahogany. “You know that you can’t just fly under the radar for an entire day, yes?”

“I can..and will.” you snipped.

“No need to throw me on the bad side of the tracks. I’m just saying that you should think this through more,” the stale faced man reasoned. “And given how you didn’t bother to see if I was listening, I’m assuming you wanted me to try and talk you out of it.”

Scoffing, you swung your legs over your bedside, standing to your feet and giving a long stretch of the arm that’d been holding your phone recently. “I don’t need you to talk me out of anything. This..this can be good. For both of us.”

“It sounds like he’s solely interested in you. Or your, quote, ‘modeling.’”

“Why is there quote around modeling? Listen, you’re the pessimist and I’m not. I can put in a good word or two for you while I’m there, as well.” taking a few steps closer, you rested the flats of your fingers onto your hip. 

He spun his chair to face you fully, leaned back with his hands folded on the chair between the parting of his legs. “A good tongue flip or two, more like.”

“Vulgar.”

“Is that not the connotation?” he immediately retorted.

A sharp roll of your eyes to the right and you were letting off a sigh—looking off for a moment before falling back onto him. “It’s not like that. I won’t let it be like that. This is purely artistic, plus, what are we going to do in a public studio, Nanami?”

He gave his own version of a sigh, more like just a short breathy exhale in other words. Now he knew you were getting up in arms already given how you used his last instead of his first or your name for him. 

Choosing his next words carefully, he soon unfolded his hands, dipping them out in an ‘Oh well’ fashion. “Right. You know best.”

“Don’t do that.” you bit. 

“There’s nothing you need me to talk you out of so..go for it. You had fun the last time..I don’t know why I thought it would be otherwise.” your expression reluctantly softened and the cut to your gaze dulled. 

Shaking your head, you spun his chair around snaily, leaning over to the side to grab his glasses. Easily sliding them in place by tucking some of those silky blonde strands out of the way.

“…Sorry. I know you have reason to worry but…have a little faith in me, Nami.” you reassured in a softer breath than prior. “Promise I won’t get myself into any trouble. This is just another creative learning experience to me.”

“Yeah, with your idol.” given dryly. Already taken up his richly inked fountain pen once more, he peered over his shoulder to view you a bit better.

Your lips immediately pressed into a smile of withdraw. It caught Nanami a bit off for a tick. “With those glasses, you really do look better. Like how you did in highschool.”

“Changing the topic on me?” he pressed, even so, still bringing his index up to his nose bridge to push the frames further into security. “Either way, I might go back. Contacts aren’t so time efficient.”

“Well then, sounds like you have more important things to worry about, huh?” you chimed, giving an affirming two pats to his shoulders before leaning up straight again. “Stick to the books, writer boy.”

Finally choosing to high road, he took that last jab in silence and this time, just putting his headphones in as you retreated back to your own bed—mirroring. 

Although it seemed you both knew there were going to be certain boundaries and guidelines for the upcoming—there was clearly already outlines of a blockade forming between you and Nanami over it. 

But..you doubted that it would ever be truly significant. It was one with the other, always a package deal. You’d make sure of that.

“Night, Nami.” there his name was. Right back in its rightful place on your lips. 

Just before he clicked play he uttered the same and was right back to his rhythmic scritching in his—preferably leather-bound—sketchbook. Although it was a sketchbook, it was accounted as an official class notebook as well. You’ve been a feature more than a few times, in multiple.

That pretty much concluded your night but Suguru was still in the midst of dealing with a Satoru that wasn’t too fond of the extra—if not over—2 hours unaccounted for in that parking lot and even after.

Getting back into the building was easy since the security were—practically—running on his parent’s dime but also weren’t necessarily too foreign to turning blind eyes to Suguru’s affairs. The only problem presented itself after he got back into his own dorm.

Lights off, cartoons running on the living room television as the snowy-haired man sat on the couch with a perched hand under his chin. Satoru’d already heard him shoving his keys in the door and now he was more alert than the half-asleep state he’d been wading in and out of beforehand.

“And here I thought you’d gone missing. Shame.” catty as ever, never pulling those glacial blues off the flashing colors that the screen threw out in its frames. 

The air was faintly tense, not trying to let Satoru get the inkling that he’d been out for nefarious reasons—Suguru bent down at the door and softly waited until the latch clicked. His fingers went to his dress shoes, deftly pulling the laces loose. “Already with the attitude? What are you, five?”

“Five, what a number. About the same number representing the time we meet after classes. You know, at the end of the day, together.” Now, Satoru was turning to face his newly-arrived roommate, crossing arms over his chest and cocking his head of at an angle.

A bat of Suguru’s lashes and he was standing back up fully, peeling his school-affiliating sweater down off his shoulders and undoing the two buttons that had held it together at his front.

“Something came up, didn’t have time to text you.” he breathed, taking his hair down from that pinned-up bun and draping his sweater over the back of a dining chair. 

“Don’t bullshit me,” Satoru sneered. “You always have time to text me—you just didn’t and I want to know why.” Of course he was going straight into this sorry interrogation attempt. He was just being nosy and going about it in an accusatory guise.

Having went through this same broken record a thousand times over, “Calm down, Satoru. I was out for a little longer than usual and now what? You’re all of a sudden some..some sort of disappointed parent?”

The television finally got lowered after that—shut off completely in fact as Satoru got to his feet, jamming his hands into the pockets of his house shorts. In about three steps he was inches away from face to face with Suguru. Eyes at a bladed angle, they flicked down and up the more unaffected party.

“I am calm.” he punctuated between his teeth.

“And, that vein in your forehead totally isn’t about to burst,” Suguru retorted. “Can you just be alright with me saying ‘I was out’ and ask me how my day went or something?”

Tapping his fingers in a roll over his bicep, Satoru’s tongue did one swipe along the back of his teeth. “Okay, Suguru. I won’t press you, matter of fact—I’ll wait until you’re ready to have this conversation. Or any conversation.”

“Seriously? Silent treatment? Who would that truly benefit in the long run? Let’s stop this petty bickering, Satoru. I’ve had a long day and so have you.”

Jamming a finger into Suguru’s chest, Satoru pulled a wry in passive aggression. “Right, like you’d even know how my day went—you were barely there. Shoko and I even had the time to go out to eat after classes ended.”

That made Suguru pause for a moment. Had Shoko been right next to him while… 

Blinking the thought away, Suguru put his hands up in a placating gesture. “Sorry, I’ll make it up to you, promise.”

“…How?” raised a curious eyebrow.

“I’ll pay your cafeteria fee for a month.” 

Satoru’s eyes switched between the marble plum depths of Suguru’s. “Are you trying to..bribe me?”

“Depends, is three months enticing enough for you?” Suguru pried, poorly concealing the way his lips were starting to peel back. “Come on, you know you’re the richest cheapskate I know.”

Kissing his teeth at the backhanded undercurrent, Satoru pressed his lips into a thin line. “I’m not so easily bought but I’ll consider this a rental. Whatever, Suguru.”

“I haven’t ‘rented’ anything in quite some years now.” purred back, as the raven slipped past the diffused situation, patting him on the back. It was nothing to make his way into the hallway that housed either of their rooms on each side. 

It looked smaller from the outside, though that could’ve been because the lavish bathrooms were inside said accomadations. And as Suguru’s tired feet dragged him to his door, he gently twisted the knob to sleuth in. 

Only there did he have a slow moment—a hand up to his chest was all the information needed to tell the bullet he’d really dodged. Several, even.

But that wasn’t out of the ordinary. To make it out barely scathed among a landmine of minūt and first-world issues. And frankly, Satoru was about as first-world as it got. It was one of his greatest strengths and—though he’d comment on the word—weaknesses.

Suguru knew how to play cards right to not make it seem like he was directly looking down on him but at times, his actions spoke louder than well..anything. 

Though, undressing and getting down to his boxers before sitting on the edge of his bed, Satoru was the last thing on his mind. He dug around in his dresser for a moment, pulling out his signature box of tobacco cigarettes and a lighter gifted to him by Shoko herself.

Allowing himself a moment to light the small flicker flame and lean back to give the ceiling a staring contest, the end of the wrapped up stress-reliever shortened with a hiss. Ash darkened the sections that had been snuffed of flame, now replaced with embers in Suguru’s lungs.

Taking his hand down and coming to lay fully back on his king-size, he blew out the smoke into the moonlit air—just a sliver behind those velvety curtains that he’d had personally installed. His eyes caught on the trail that hung and strangely, he couldn’t seem to pull himself out of the stupor that was…you.

Stupors technically have a negative feeling when they’re described but in this context, it was closer to wading through a hot spring for the first time. Unknown sensations at the bottom, warmth and new waters on the surface. Overall, something new.

A new flavor in the palette of the glutton.

Of course..it was impossible for him to place whether the bitter or sweet was stronger when it came to..you. Whether there was a cure hidden in your symphony of layers or poison that was laced within the depths of the journey he wanted to embark on—finding out just who you are. But he’d get a taste of you, the real you, sooner or later. For now..all he had to worry about was getting you into his studio—or the studio, that is.

————

Masterlist || ....

A/N: Have no fear, Deep Faker is on the way next, lol. But uhm..yeah, this happened. Call it a bad case of yearning or simply artistic motivation but please, embark with me.

[misskattylashes]

The Dichotomy of Being a Teenage Alex Turner Fan

In this article I look at why I think so many teenage fans direct so much hate towards Miles.

Look at this image search I did on Alex’s name. First person whose name comes up ‘Miles Kane’, first other person he is in another picture with, Miles...before a puff piece about Louise or Taylor. It’s Miles. There are more results with Miles than anyone else. Whether people like it or not, Miles and Alex are intrinsically linked.

In the words of the big man himself ‘stop and wait a sec’...... imagine Miles was Mila, a constant female companion of Alex’s who he had been close to for nearly twenty years. Had been at his side more than any other woman, had done two duets with him and whilst touring the second one, their performances were so sexually charged you thought any moment soon they were actually going to have sex on stage. What would you think? You would think they were or had been in a romantic relationship. And even though you haven’t seen much of them together over the past few years, Mila constantly talks lovingly about Alex in her interviews, and Alex invites Mila to be the support act for the final days of a very long world tour, and on one of the dates he lets Mila stand side-stage (something his official girlfriend doesn’t get to do) and throughout the set he sings to Mila and can’t stop glancing at her. People would be enamoured with their love story and desperate for them to be together.

So why is it different just because Miles is a guy?

Of course there is the obvious. If Alex is gay, then the teenage fans stand no chance with him, which would be upsetting. But even me, as a creaky old Gen X-er, had gay pop stars who were attractive and sexy – Holly Johnson and Paul Rutherford from Frankie Goes to Hollywood, Andy Bell from Erasure, even Boy George got screamed at, but we accepted they were gay and we didn’t stand a chance and that was it.

Of course, there was no social media then, but did we write hateful letters to them or their partners, or put up posters on street corners saying how disgusting they were? (the 80s equivalent to posting all over Twitter) No.

So why the anger towards Miles?

Unfortunately when I was growing up, homophobia was acceptable. Gay people were constantly the butt of jokes, straight comedians would pretend to be effette just for laughs. At school we even had the reprehensible Section 28, imposed by Thatcher’s government where any mention of homosexuality was banned, even books featuring gay characters, to apparently help prevent us from experimenting and catching AIDS (yes I grew up in the Dark Ages)

But there comes the rub. Because homophobia was acceptable, any negative feelings we had towards our gay pop stars or their partners wasn’t something we felt bad about so we felt no need to pick on anyone as a way of dealing with our own conflicted emotions

Fast forward to 2023. Gay people have rights, can marry, have children, are positively represented in the media, we have Pride, which is on the point of becoming too commercialised, and to be homophobic is to most young people not cool or acceptable.

Those same girls who spew hate towards Miles probably paint rainbows on their pencil cases during Pride, have male gay friends at school and would have a go at anyone who doesn’t support trans rights.

But then there is the fact that the celebrity they desire has a constant male companion, who he has been more publicly intimate with then any of the girlfriends he has had. Scratch beneath the surface and you can spot the differences in them when they fell out after EYCTE -both a shell of their former self. When there was a brief break in Lockdown in the UK, who did Alex choose to meet? Miles. Whether the fangirls consciously or subconsciously think there is something going on, it makes them feel uncomfortable with themselves. The presence of Miles Kane makes them realise they’re not necessarily that right-on girl who is into gay rights, because when they actually think about it, and think about what men do, they don’t like it.

But instead of realising that this is just part of being a grown up – we all have things about ourselves we don’t like, they direct their anger and frustration at Miles, as if he didn’t exist then they wouldn’t be confronted by these unpleasant feelings they have.

So, what I am trying to say is whilst I find the comments about Miles disgusting and cruel, just remember with these girls the person they really hate is themselves, while Miles lives his lovely life with his career and his friends and Alex and Maxie.

I think we know who is the winner here.

[some-sort-of-ecologist]

i think one of the biggest scams i've seen in my lifetime is the idea that it looks better to have to have all matching mugs, preferably that match your dishes

reblog and tell me about your coffee mug

[hadesknockedupintheunderworld]

Between Sonic and Tails, who do you think would end up confessing their feelings first?

Good question. Definitely depends upon the iteration and context, but for the most part (at least in my head) getting either of them to confess (and in some cases even ruminate on their feelings and admit to themselves the nature of them) is hard

Like, for example, I personally think that game!Sonic (and post sgw Archie Sonic and IDW Sonic) kind of take Tails' presence for granted in a way. To them, it will always be the two of them (Sonic and Tails). The ideal future is that they keep on hanging out and still fight side by side sometimes and that even if Sonic goes it alone he can always come back from his adventures to chill with Tails or crash at his place. In other words, in Sonic's fantasies of the future, things like getting married or raising families or anything like that are just kind of tacked on as something that will just kind of be true at best and ignored at worst. If he even considers a future where things are a bit different because Tails is together™ with someone, to him it's only natural that Tails would be in his life the same way and nothing would really change. And so to that end, even if Sonic DOES realize his own feelings, he probably wouldn't see any good reason to confess. It would make things more complicated, especially if Tails doesn't share those feelings, and he doesn't have to worry anyways because Tails will always prioritize the two of them and be at his side, right?

And then it's even worse for versions of Sonic more akin to, say, pre sgw Archie Sonic. This is because in addition to the already existing unwillingness to change things and the assumption that he doesn't ever have to worry about no longer being the center of Tails' world (or a major figure in it at least), there is some palpable internalized homophobia within that hedgehog with an added complexity. For Archie Sonic in particular, I think even if he realized that he wanted to even be with Tails forever in a strictly non brothers fashion, he would feel mixed feelings about that (perhaps that coming out about it would ruin things or make things weird, or that getting together with Tails at any point would deprive him of "normalcy", or that he'd pressured Tails into it, or even just weird or a bit creepy).

As for Tails, I actually think that most iterations of him have figured their feelings out by this point. In all honesty, there's only so long you can go on fixating on someone and admiring them, and structuring your life around them before you realize your "I want to be with them" isn't just about simply admiring them. It's just that Tails' main obstacle to me is the avoidance of ruining anything.

On one hand, there's Sonic's avoidance to being tied down. We've seen time and time again Sonic rejecting people who pursue him openly or looking uncomfortable with them. Archie Sonic in particular made it clear that this version of Sonic couldn't stand the idea of not being able to freely be himself or adventure. He couldn't stand the idea of having to tie himself down and taking on extra responsibilities and expectations simply because he's with someone. I can see Tails being afraid that by confessing, he could scare Sonic away. If he happened to confess and Sonic thought Tails meant to stifle him or Sonic felt uncomfortable by that open expression, wouldn't that risk their relationship? Even if Sonic wouldn't go so far as to drop him as a best friend (which he never would do that for the record), there's still real fear in making things weird or different between himself and Sonic.

And that feeds right into the other hand. On the other hand, Sonic probably doesn't see him that way, right? Though Sonic is special to him and Sonic also cares for him back, at best Sonic has never thought about it and never will, or he just wouldn't feel the same (in Tails' eyes). With Archie Tails in particular, even if Tails gets over his own interlized homophobia about it and recognizes his feelings for what they are, he probably feels that there's no way to be anything different than a brother to Sonic, and thus confessing would be a terrible move. If Tails confesses and Sonic doesn't feel the same, it also runs the risk of making things weird between them or (in Tails' eyes) ruining it.

All this to say that my general opinion is that as long as things stay exactly the way they are forever, even if they start spending even more time together, I find it hard to believe either of the two will opt into confessing on purpose

But, with that being said, a confession is not an impossibility. I don't think either of the two are immune to being put in a position where they finally confess (and no, with the state of things for them, simply saying "I love you" will not count as a confession). And if we barred situations where like. They're literally about to die or one can do anything they like without the other (or themselves) remembering the outcome, I actually can give you an answer

And honestly, if one of them had to confess eventually, I believe it would probably end up being Sonic.

Why? Well, out of the two, Tails actually sits back and thinks about his emotions more often than not. I think even before he figured out the exact nature of his feelings he knew he felt very strongly for Sonic. But, no matter which media you're touching upon, I feel as if Tails fits into that archetype of "person who has been in love with their best friend since literally forever, but knows their best friend will never feel the same". The longer Tails ruminates on these feelings, the stronger he feels them, the more he watches Sonic (especially as someone who cares about plenty of people other than him), the more time he spends with Sonic, the less incentivized he feels to actually confess. Especially if Sonic would never feel the same, the best Tails can hope for is that things stay the same between them and Sonic never replaces his role.

Or in short, Tails is so in his head about it at this point, it's very hard to convince him that confessing is ever a good idea or necessary.

But while Tails is more obviously attached to Sonic, Sonic is much less obviously attached to Tails and other people as a whole. With him being "free as the wind" and the kind of figure he is, he kind of benefits from having the persona of a guy who doesn't need his friends but (nevertheless) can be assisted by them. He probably seems cool for being so strong and independent while equally caring that people live. But this doesn't mean Sonic doesn't have attachments (far from it). Rather, for Sonic, his attachments to others seem to naturally grow. And the more time he spends with them, the more he grows used to their presence. And especially with someone like Tails, who has been around as his companion the longest, he doesn't sit around long enough to consider that Tails would ever leave his side. Once he grows used to that person, he doesn't have to recognize his attachment or even think about the nature of his own feelings because it is and always has been whatever it is. So, in other words, even if he becomes more and more reliant on the fact that Tails will always be around or that Tails will always assist him, he doesn't have to admit more than "This is what our best friendship is. This is what it's like"

All of this is to say that while my idea of present Tails would be trying to do anything in his power to stay with Sonic (as long as Sonic is willing of course), even if that means never confessing the exact nature of his feelings for the hedgehog, Sonic isn't already thinking about these things. This means that while Tails has very few pathways to confession, Sonic has plenty!...if you scare him well enough.

For example, Idw Sonic has been more clearly spending more time with Tails (even baseline just. Crashing at his place more often) after the metal virus arc. Couple this with post neo metal incident 2 electric boogaloo idw Sonic who just wants to have a break and live peacefully for a minute, this is a Sonic who has become scared enough to want to indulge in spending more time with Tails. I also think that post Sonic Prime Sonic is also a version of him who would start to spend more time with Tails than before after having already lost him and having to deal with the Tails shaped hole in his life once.

So, if you got a Sonic to the point where he'd fully accepted his feelings and he felt like confessing them would be necessary to secure the future he wants, then he'd confess. Honestly, the easiest way I'd see this going about would be a story where Tails is framed as leaving him to go do something or be somewhere else, away for Sonic, possibly indefinitely, or if Sonic actually has to spend enough time without Tails after initially telling himself his own feelings wouldn't matter so long as Tails is happy wherever he is. But, if it came down to confessing being something that might actually bring Sonic to his desired future (especially if Tails rejecting him is no different from prolonging the separation they already have if he says nothing), then I think he could work up the courage to do it.

And in the end...I think it has to be Sonic. Although I on occasion enjoy fantasizing about moments where Tails can't take it anymore and confesses, only for Sonic to realize his own feelings in the process, I think that Sonic would have to be the one who confesses his feelings/wishes for the future for Tails to even believe that his pipe dreams are a possibility. I think it's Sonic who would need to pull Tails out of his head, because the probability that Tails works up the courage to confess is more unlikely.

So...yeah. In my head, Sonic is driven to a point where he confesses and pulls Tails out of his head about it.

[kaikamahine]

.

[quietwingsinthesky]

the problem with a lot Generic Het Pairings isnt that they’re straight, it’s that the fact that they’re straight-passing means the writers use that as an excuse not to do anything interesting with them because the romantic angle is a given so who’s going to waste time exploring why these two would actually get together

[necrotic-nephilim]

i’m feeling messy. for the new ask game, 5 :)

for the choose violence ask game!

5. worst discord server and why

of COURSE you would choose to be this messy, you lil rat. <3 i will be kind enough to not name the server, it's a general Batfamily server i found on Disboard. most Bafam discord servers tend to be... anti leaning so it's something i sort of expect, but this one has a "ship advisory list", including ships you're not allowed to share media of (like fanfic or fanart) and if you discuss the ship you can be told to stop talking about it. and there were the typical ships you'd expect like Joker/Harley, BatJokes, and ofc a "no proships" umbrella ban. but some of the ships fucking baffled me. like canon ships were on this list. ships i to this day can't figure out why they'd be banned. the top ships of the list that just *got me* in terms of "... what is bad about this ship???" were

DickBabs

DonnaDick

Barry/Diana

Barry/Dinah

JayRose

Catwoman/Penguin

Talia/Bane

some of these i didn't know were shipped in the *first place* but even if they are, i can't fathom what's wrong with them. some of them are canon, normal ships? like what did JayRose do wrong. it's one of Jason's healthier relationships. and DonnaDick somehow gets me the most. my only guess is that antis heard them referred to as the Wonder Twins and thus decided the ship was incestual. bc otherwise how. why. i laugh everytime i think about DonnaDick being problematic.

on one hand i do think it's fucking hilarious of a list and it always makes me laugh bc i cannot fathom the mentality. but on the other hand it is sort of depressing that so many public social platforms for discussing the Batfam are becoming *so* anti-leaning that ships can be banned simply bc the mods of the server decided they were problematic for some unforeseen reason. it was the biggest depiction of "i don't like this ship so it's problematic" i've ever seen. like where does the goalpost stop moving? when does it somehow become problematic to ship things in general? it was wild even for anti stuff. truly the most baffling server i've been in.

[clawsextended]

in my perfect world everyone makes so many lesbian muses the men then have to deal with the exact same behavior when every single post ever written isn’t about dick.