#my last piece was too happy so i had to do this i guess

[omagpies]

No way! Another person who has spent way too much time on apex! Who's your main? I'm guessing BH but I don't want to assume. How did you feel about the BH/Fuse engagement? Do you have any heirlooms? Sorry, not very many people play apex on here.

Also, do you have any apex art? If not that's totally cool but I would love to see it!

you have activated my trap card!! many drawings ahead

my main is indeed bloodhound. i also whip out fuse, mirage, and to a lesser degree octane, but mostly i'm a one trick bloodhound. they were what got me into the game in the first place back in season 7 when i heard their 'i'm afraid of heights :(' voicelines (a cool hunter nonbinary character voiced by none other than allegra clark? sign me tf up), and even though i am Very Bad At Shooting and don't actually like battle royale-type games apex stayed my brainrot for over two years. the brainrot is definitely over now and these days i play it as a social thing, but that's how i acquired 2k+ hours lmao

also they released a magpiehound recolor called 'frosthaven' that i gleefully snatched up and have been wearing it ever since (ft the magpie holospray and the magpie mural on their latest map. i think they are catering to me specifically)

i am. truly Not Good. i am here just to clown and gossip and make poor life choices. my impulse control is too non existent for someone whose best skill is shooting a perfect outline around the enemy and not a bullet within

i had SO MUCH bloodhound art over on twitter good god. out of the following two drawings, the first one was bought out by allegra to sell as signed prints, and the second one was reposted onto apex's IG account, and in general this was the one time i genuinely had a blast on twitter interacting with all the devs and vas before everything went downhill both in respawn and on twitter lol. also i have to say, s10 and the whole White Raven thing fed me so. so so. SO well. the existential angst was incredible.

i participated in a couple of zines/projects as well! i have many thoughts about their canonical(!) respawn system and the resulting unimportance of death. adds to the existentialism and to bloodhound's religious themes

overall it was a very, very prolific period for me, and there are many pieces i'm still very happy with to this day

(^ the second to last one is a reference to the fusehound confession scene, and the last one is related to one of my fics, wooden bones (forest deity!bh au))

shipping!!! miragehound was my initial and most prominent ship, and i will never forgive respawn for not expanding on their backstory (their mothers worked together COME ON. they might have met as children! COME ON!!!!! i have a whole series exactly about the What Could Have Been)

their backstory with boone also fascinated me for a very long time, and my friends and i spent many a yap session dissing the dude until we stopped and thought, hey, what if he really was Just Some Guy who made mistakes, what if he wasn't evil, and that's what pulled me right back into the brainrot when i was already starting to slowly recover from it. boone now has a very elaborate backstory and lore and i hope to god respawn never puts him in the games the way we did because a) they don't GET him and b) i don't trust the fandom with him lmao. i'm super down to blabber about him though just say the word. he's everything to me, my big, sad, hairy man

we also invented in-game stuff for him. he had abilities and skins etc etc (the top row of skins is his titan pilot backstory + talos era + 'default' in-game skin)

this diptych still lives rent-free in my head, i think i really won with this one

where miragehound and boonehound flourished, mirageboonehound wasn't far behind! i wrote how it came to be and all. also Рorn. so much Рorn. seriously.

also this was the first time i redrew the twelfth night as my otp. the second one was mouthwashing

fusehound was an absolute delight to watch blossom, especially since we know it wasn't planned and just Kind Of Happened. i felt that lmao. characters be like that. i'm a bit sadge they shelved the whole talos plotline in favor of romance but at this point i gave up on expecting good lore from apex, especially after they fired herr frozenfroh. i didn't draw fusehound nearly as much, BUT i do have one fic that was basically a dream i had lol

honorable mention goes to revhound!! this is the ship that went really hard with artists and writers. deeply painful, deeply compelling, absolutely incredible. mindblowing angst and just as mindblowing рorn, together or separately. best shit. the one ship i didn't write for because compared to the fandom's behemoths i never felt like i'd be able to contribute anything meaningful lol, i just got to sit back and enjoy

bonus: as one of my friends eloquently put it, bh and their bhitches :)

i was going to put in more pictures but hit the 30 images limit!!! my twitter is now abandoned but if you scroll down just a little you can see all the stuff that didn't make it into this post.

apex and bloodhound also REALLY, REALLY got me writing. i came into the fandom already relatively warmed up after a 170k fire emblem fic, but i ended up writing 200k+ for miragehound, mirageboonehound, and fusehound combined. i was unstoppable. it was insane. i've linked some already but you can peep them all here. bloodhound's pov was especially fun to write for, purple prose my beloved

also you asked me about heirlooms! i'm a lucky motherfucker who managed to get one set of shards from the 500th box and another from just the random 0.4% chance. so i have bloodhound's and fuse's as they are my most played characters :)

[st4rd0lly]

ＴＯＮＧＵＥＳ ＆ ＴＥＥＴＨ —

CONTENT WARNING : this fic series will contain DARK content , smut , age gap (reader is mid-late 20s while Nikolai is in his 30s) , probably inaccurate detective work descriptions , and religious themes. this does not follow canon and it is a non ability AU

chapter warnings : suggestive themes (angry sex gets mentioned once) ; firearm

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐍𝐄 : 𝐖𝐇𝐎 ?

A detective.

That’s what you are.

Or well, that’s what you were. You had left that life behind you, swore on it. You weren’t a terrible detective by any means, quite the opposite. You were notably the smartest detective in your city. Sharp and witty, reliable and smart. That’s what you prided yourself on. But with making bigger shoes, you made yourself nearly look like a clown when you stepped out of them. All it took was one case, one case to make you step down.

And like that, you were out of the game.

With no interest to push yourself forward in your career, you sidelined yourself much to everyone’s dismay. You had people relying on you, people who needed you. But a normal life is what you desired after what felt like an action film that lasted forever. It’s what you deserved.

You didn’t lose all that much like you expected though. People still respected you for what you did, your ex-coworkers still treated you like their own, they still come to you for advice and you gave them your best. You became a mentor for younger detectives, a rowdy but loveable group who wanted to follow your footsteps.

You were content with the life you led. All trauma considered, you’d say you’re doing pretty solid for what you’ve been through going through cases.

You were happy for once, you were content with this domestic life you’ve made for yourself. 

"Someone tells me you’re sick of old games. Let’s play a new one. =)"

You repeated the note left on your window to your ex-work partner, Mikhail, on the phone. Staring at it with furrowed brows, you cursed to yourself. "I quit this shit for a fucking reason." With a groan, you slam yourself back down on the couch. 

"Did you check security cameras?" Mikhail questioned, groaning along with you. He’s been by your side since your guys’ first day together, two peas in a pod. You still remember the days where you were just young rookies together. You guys weren’t Sherlock Holmes and Watson by any means, but some might argue that your dynamic duo could come close.

Your face fell into a deadpanned expression, "You really think I wouldn’t?"

"Hey, I’m just trying to make sure we covered all bases. But knowing you, you probably already did that so I guess it was a stupid question— which is besides the point though." You could tell that he was just at a lost as you are.

"Misha, I wanted to leave this stuff behind me." You said, a little more solemnly than you’d liked to admit. "I thought after I faded out in the system for a bit, things would be okay for me. Sure, we’ve made our enemies—"

"You especially."

"Yes, me especially. But I know that most of them are in prison and the others are respectable enough to do this stuff to my face instead of… whatever the fuck that is. I wanted out."

"And you will be out. One day, I promise you." Mikhail reassures, his usual lighthearted tone softening. "Do you think it could be the same guy from our last case together?" He asks.

And you wished you had an answer. The last case you ever took on as an official detective left you in pieces that you’re still trying to pick up to this day. There were too many missing factors but so many were coming to a horrific realization. There were no hints one moment and then the next, there were. Each step closer you thought you took, set you 10 paces back with little time to catch up. That case had flipped your life upside down and around. Like some sick cycle. 

If it was the same bastard behind that case, you were sure that the old you would’ve jumped at the chance.

But you aren’t the person you were in the past, and you haven’t been for a long time.

Maybe this was exactly what the guy wanted, what they came here for. To wait for things to get calm till they could hit hard again. Or maybe, there was a chance that this note could’ve come from a new, completely different person. Someone who wanted to take out an old big shot to make themselves look even bigger. There was just too many open spaces with a huge gap of no information. It could be anything from anyone.

"I don’t know Misha, with the little to no info right now… it literally could be anyone." You admitted, not trying to even hide the defeat in your voice. Your brain searching, scanning, and recalling for anyone that stood out to you in your life. Someone who would mess with you like this, taunting from afar. It hits you like cold water in the morning. "Oh my god. What if it’s my ex?"

"You think you got yourself caught up in like a weird crazy ex revenge situation? What was the guy’s name again?" Mikhail questioned.

"Nikolai. Nikolai Gogol." You responded, rubbing at your temple. Fuck, if it really was Nikolai…

But that was so long ago, way before your last case. And that relationship was never going to last, the both of you knew that. You wanted different things, you two were different…it wouldn’t have worked out. Maybe he wanted Bonnie and Clyde, turn you away from the so called righteousness and justice that is detective work. Live out a life of crime. You never were aware of what he did for work, you were able to tell it was dangerous. And maybe in another life, he was able make you his Bonnie. 

You made sure that this wasn’t that life.

Thinking back to all the times you’ve spent with him makes your heart has plunge into your stomach. You were aware that he wasn’t the greatest person to date. You said through heated kisses and angry sex that it was just the rush, the thrill of it all in the relationship you had with him that kept you around. Each time he could only laugh in your face. All his talk about freedom definitely added a new perspective to your life, but it was so extreme. 

And oddly enough when you wanted to end it, he was very much less than pleased even though that’s all he’s ever wanted. To be free. He’s a walking contradiction though and he left your life without a trace. You refused to look back.

It wouldn’t make sense to mess up your life now.

….

When did he ever make sense?

"I’ll check in with the database, see what I can scoop up on him." Mikhail attempts to reassure you, though it does little to soothe your thoughts. He never knew about the complexity of your relationship with Nikolai. Just that it was strange. He didn’t know how dangerous he was.

But you weren’t about to tell him right now, not while it felt like someone was watching you. "Okay…"

"Did you ask your neighbors if they saw anything? What about that one neighbor across from you?" Mikhail suggested. "Take a picture of the note and I’ll drop by with some of the team by your place so we can investigate more. Better to not tamper with evidence so just use the picture to show your neighbors."

"Okay, yeah I’ll do that." You agreed, it wasn’t a bad idea. "Thank you Misha."

"I’ll be there in about fifteen. Go chat with your neighbors. Don’t die."

"Trying not to." You chuckled, hanging up the phone. You stood back up from the couch, looking at the window with disdain. The note was still there, staring back at you. Though you knew nothing was confirmed, you tried to find any hints of Nikolai’s presence. The only thing sticking out to you was the smiley, and that wouldn’t be viable evidence of anything. You shook your head, opening the camera app on your phone and snapping a picture. 

Now  that was done and over with. Time to talk to your neighbor.

Your neighbor was a relatively tall and attractive man you would say. You’ve never talked to him before, only seeing him for a brief moment when you walk to your car or when he goes out. Your window allows you a somewhat good view outside. Though you could also say that his appearance did make him stand out too. 

Tossing on a jacket, you hoped your neighbor wouldn’t judge too hard if you were in your pajamas. It was still early in the morning when you woke up to that note. 

You bite your tongue, you shouldn’t leave the house unarmed. Taking a quick trip back to your room, you put on your belt that you wear to do your mentor work. The one that’s meant to hold your firearm. You grab your gun in your drawer to put in your holster.

You opened the door, shivering a bit as the cool air hits your skin and hugged yourself tighter. Whoever put that note there must be really motivated to mess with you because who on earth would put a stupid note on a window when it’s this cold?

Taking a couple of steps towards his door, you placed a firm knock. You really hoped he was here. It would be an even shittier day if he wasn’t and you were waiting out in the cold longer than you needed to be. But thankfully, the door opens.

"May I help you?" The rich Russian accent caught you off guard, making you blink in surprise. You weren’t sure what to expect when he did speak but it wasn’t that. 

You gave the man an apologetic smile, "Hi I’m so sorry to bother you early this morning but I was wondering if you had heard anything strange late at night or earlier in the morning? Or if you had seen anything weird?"

The man looks down at you for a moment and you could tell he was studying you. His eyes were probably the most vibrant shade of a deep purple hue that you had ever seen before. You couldn’t tell what he was thinking, he had a good poker face you had to admit. He only tilts his head to the side, looking concerned. "I had not heard anything out of the ordinary. I usually am not here all that often because of work, but when I am here, I like to stay in my bedroom and rest."

He sounded genuine, and he definitely looked genuine. But those years you’ve spent as a detective grew your skills, and you’ve kept them sharp. You wouldn’t have been earnestly praised highly as a detective if you weren’t good at catching onto the small things. A blessing and a curse. There was something off about this neighbor of yours that you couldn’t place your finger on.

You couldn’t let him know that though, so you only shook your head again and waved your hand. "Ah, I’m so sorry again then. There was just a note left on my window and I was just wondering if anyone saw anything. It’s okay, thank you for your time."

"That sounds terrible, forgive me if I’m overstepping but are you certain it wasn’t your roommate playing some sort of prank?"

……

You could feel the gears in your head pause abruptly. You blink at him in confusion.

Roommate? 

"I don’t have a roommate?" You clarified, raising a brow at his comment. But he only reciprocates your confused expression.

"Is that so? I was sure you did. There was this man I’ve seen at your place before quite often whenever I’m here." He tells you, and your mind goes into a frenzy. What the fuck was he talking about? Was he talking about Mikhail? 

"I’m sorry, could you explain more?" You kept your tone polite, and it was obvious you weren’t expecting this. You were too distracted by the thoughts swirling in your head that you didn’t realize that you were shaking a bit from the weather.

"Here, you should come inside. I have some tea prepared for myself but there’s enough to share. I’ll tell you what I know. Part of it is that it’s bad manners to keep a guest outside in the cold." He opens the door more, stepping out of the way. 

Jesus, you really did want to stop being dragged into these games.

[sheliesshattered]

somehow, I don't know how, but somehow sewing machines always know when you're nearly done with a project and pick that exact moment to throw a hissy fit

[the-brainrot-central]

Writing over 30,000 words worth of content for a fic only to realize it’s all pointless because you have no interest in it anymore and you were never gonna finish it anyway….

What even is The Point anymore

[beanghostprincess]

... I was writing all of this on the tags but I realized it was getting a tiny bit too long so:

I've always liked the idea of Sanuso being established when WCI happens because. Angst. Like. Sanji actively breaking up with Usopp. Sanji's ass is not leaving to get married without AT LEAST breaking up with Usopp first so idk there's a little note for him or something like that. You can imagine how it goes. The letter has tears and everything and shaky messy handwriting. It's a whole mess. So Usopp HAS to go save his boyfriend.

And honestly. Like. Sanji has tried breaking up with Usopp before. Shit doesn't work. Self-sabotaging the relationship is something he can try but never succeeds at. Because Usopp always goes back to him somehow like I am 100% sure Usopp is used to this but-- This time is REAL like wtfffvjdf. Going a bit insane. Literally. The way you draw their facial expressions makes me want to throw up. In like. A good way. Great way.

So Luffy's speech still happens obviously but like. BEFORE that when Luffy's really messed up and Usopp's holding him and Nami is SOBBING. Usopp has this moment of (and this is the thing I needed to write in here bc the tags weren't enough to capture the energy I wanted it to have):

"The only reason you're pushing us away is to keep us safe, but do you really think we'd be better off without you?! I don't even know what I would've done if you hadn't been there for me when I needed it the most! I probably wouldn't even be here right now! You say i shouldn't run away but you're the one acting like a coward right now! You're running away because you don't want to hurt us but we're all getting hurt because you're letting fear win instead of fighting back the way you always tell me to do! And believe me! I know about fear! You said you'd do what I can't and I'd do what you can't! Was that a lie too?! And don't say it was because I know a liar when I see one and you've always been awful at that! You might try to fool yourself but you could never make us see you this way! You're not letting me carry your burden because you also insist on carrying everyone else's, but that's the most cowardly move of all! And I'm supposed to be the coward out of the two, Sanji! If you really think my heart could replace you then you're dumber than I thought! Maybe you can get married to somebody else but I will not give you up only for a few stupid lies you can't even believe yourself! I don't know who that Vinsmoke Sanji is but he is not the Sanji I love! And you might not believe a word I say right now but I do! I do love you! And don't give a damn if you push us away because we will keep pulling you back with us! I've always been brave for you, so now you need to be brave for me!"

Or something like that, okay? I didn't think this through and it's just a quick thing and it's like 1 am and I gotta go to sleep soon-- But this sounds kind of like something he could say--

Had this in my drafts for a monthhh

lookit my belovds.....

Auauauau goes feral i would die for them

[k0mmari]

SYSTEM! SHEN YUAN AU (Pt.2)

Pt.1

Im not done with this, so to the people that wanted more, here it is! I, fortunately or not, have thought way too much again, so once more this is going to be a very, very, VERY long post. If you guys have any ideas about this btw, please do share them! I really am just letting my mind wander a bit more than usual, so maybe someone else can have more structured thoughts than me lol. (Fair warning, there probably will be plot holes, so sorry in advance!)

Please read Pt.1 if you haven't, or this won't make any sense!

After SY warped away from his impromptu meeting with Binghe, the last place he would like to end up would be even deeper into the Endless Abyss, but according to his System, the next piece of the virus was here. While not happy, since his Personal System was (mostly) working as intended, SY managed to activate Ghost Mode and walk towards the next part without having to deal with any of the creatures down there. (He had to try very hard not to get distracted by the monsters, lest his supervisor thinks he also went missing.)

It takes considerably more time to find the virus this time, so much in fact, SY starts to recognize his surroundings from SQH's ramblings (not that he was interested or anything), and he feels a cold sense of dread running down his spine. There was no way he was that unlucky that the object that got corrupted this time was-

He was that unlocky. Lo and behold, after entering a run down ruin, SY is faced with the legendary Xin Mo, power so overwhelming it manifested as dark fire covering the blade. The only reason why SY wasn't immediately writhing on the ground from the sword's power was Ghost Mode, which he could not rely for too long, as his Personal System was displaying warning after warning about Possibility of Corruption and God Like Plot Point. It all meant that SY was on a timer, and if he took too long, the sword would start corrupting his System, which in turn could corrupt him.

Now, since this was a VERY important Plot Point, Luo Binghe had to find Xin Mo or else the plot would derail to an unfixable degree, SY couldn't just snip at it, which was a problem, since manual debugging took a considerably longer time! Still, he summons his Scissors and positions it so he can start at least trimming off the virus.

His plan immediately backfires however, as an ominous crack sounds through the air and he's suddenly pushed away from the sword by a gust of energy. A bit disoriented, he shakes his head and acesses the sit-

Xin Mo, the horrible sword it was, was apparently so OP that it seemed to detect the Scissors at the last second, and the thing attacked back! The metal of the Scissors was dark and broken where it came close to the sword, almost broken in half! Which, not good! It any other time, a pair of broken Debugging Sheers would be more or less fine, if not a major inconvinience (and pay deduction) for SY, but since he'd been warping all over the time for a while now, his Personal System's energy reserves were carefully rationed, and if he were to use a chunk to send the Scissors back for some emergency repair, he'd only have one chance to go back to HQ. Alone.

He couldn't delay it any longer, he desperately needed to find SQH and pray he still had some energy reserves left.

Setting his Personal System's next warp location to SQH's last known location, SY wouldn't have guessed in a million years that he would go back to Cang Qiong Mountain, but whatever; maybe SQH had wanted to start with fixing the bug on Binghe's pendant? Not that this was the right time since it was after Binghe fell into the Abyss, but SQH had never been good at warping. It takes a bit of wandering and going inside different buildings, but eventually his Personal System managed to get a dirrect ping on SQH's System, which sent a massive wave of relief rushing through SY, since it meant that SQH was still slive.

Though as to why he was at An Ding Peak, SY could only guess.

After a bit more wandering, SY enters on what seems to be a (very messy) office space, SY feels all the pieces coming together in his mind. Half sprawled across the table with piles of paper covering the entire table's surface lay the An Ding Peak Lord, which- was already weird, since wasn't this guy supposed to be an enemy of the Peak now? After the whole betrayal thing or whatever? But that would've been something to look into later, were it not for said Peak Lord casually scrolling through a Personal System screen. A Personal System that could only be used by the System's Maintanence Staff.

SY wastes no time in deactivating Ghost Mode, and when SQH's eyes snap to his, the man jumps so high from his chair he almost falls back. It's not a happy reunion by a longshot, since SY immediately jumped his friend co-worker and demanded an explaination, almost screaming about it was all his fault for doing shitty maintenence, and creating this shitty world if it's shitty OP sword which broke his Sheers? Do you know how expensive these are?? I know you do, cause the supervisor never lets you touch the good ones cause you keep cracking all the other pairs-

It takes a more or less one whole hour to calm down SY, but eventually the younger settled and lets SQH say his bit of the story: Apparently, in his messing around with the System's world creation program when he was trying to find the bug in his world, he'd accidentaly managed to get himself actually transmigrated to PIDW, though still with (limited) acess to his Personal System, which let him still send messages to their supervisor and pretend that everything was ok. He'd gotten so unlucky too! Out of all the people to accidentaly select, did it have to be the An Ding Peak Lord? Couldn't it have been Binghe? Or MBJ- (SQH cuts his lamenting when he notices SY's absolutely viscious death glare being stared right through his soul.)

Long story short, he'd initially did try to fix his blunder, but as more time passed and SQH's access to Maintenance priviledges went out one by one on his System, he eventually just... Started actually living there. In fact, he was living so well there that he dared say his life as Peak Lord was even better then when he was with the System! Of course, since he had been integrated as a 'character' now, he had his limitations, he actually managed to get to know his fellow peak lords! He knew the name of his character's family members and his disciples! He'd managed to build a life he never even thought he could have inside the System.

Sure, did he betray the Peak? Yes, yes he did. Were they all going to die in a few years time when Binghe came back from hell? Yeah, yeah they were, and he was immensely guilty and terrified, but! The plot could be changed! He already assumed someone from the System had popped up in the Conference, as when Binghe had recently made his alliance with MBJ, and had mentioned in passing this weird thing that had happened to him just before he fell into the Abyss.

Anyways, eventually SY begrudgingly accepts SQH's decision to stay in PIDW, but he still had to help SY; and so they form a plan: SY was going to transfer some energy to SQH so he could temporarily get his acess to the full version of his Personal System and use his energy reserves to send SY's Sheers and get them fixed. SQH was also going to properly apologize to their supervisor for suddenly quitting without notice AND order some more energy stacks to be sent to SY's System. SY on the other hand had devises a plan to get closer to XIn Mo without the sword exploding his face off:

Infiltrate Demon Emperor Luo Binghe's palace as a lowly staff member and slowly debug the sword from the inside.

A perfect plan! What could go wrong?

SY selects to warp to a time where Binghe had Xin Mo mostly in control, so it is to no surprise he warps to a place were the Demonic Emperor's Palace is absolutely filled with women. Not the best situation, since a lot of people could and probably would be able to see him, but with that many harem members, it wasn't too much of a stretch to assume there was also a considerable number of staff, which, to SY's luck, there was! In fact, after he managed to activate a disguise for his clothes so they matched the rest of the servants, no one bat an eye on his presence; at most someone would inquire about his short hair, but other than that he was as noteable as a fly.

The first phase of his plan was already a success, so now he had to move on to reconnaissance which was mostly easy and the worst thing in his life. He was mostly looking for Binghe's quarters could be as he probably kept the sword close to him at all times, though with how big the palace was, his objective had gradually shifted to mapping out the labyrinth of halls as much as possible (SY was very glad that the System allowed him to create a map in real time or he might have gotten lost in the first five minutes). He walks so much he even manages to catch a few pieces of gossip, though the most interesting one by far being one about Binghe:

Apparently, a year ago, the Emperor had a qi deviation where, for a day, he seemed to have completely shifted his personality; he refused to touch any of his wives and kept screaming for his long dead Shizun. SY doesn't really remember that plot point, though his wondering is cut short when he hears people walking towards his direction. instinctively he his behind a dark corner, momentarily forgetting that he 'worked' at the palace now.

At list his bad luck was finally turning over as the Golden Protagonist himself walked past him with one of his wives hanging off his arm, looking just as cool as SY had always imagined. He had to snap himself out of his stuppor though, as two things caught his attention: First, Xin Mo was, predictably, strapped to his waist, still glitched but at least the virus seemed more or less contained, which gave SY a bit more time to work, though the other thing he noticed...

Hanging onto an old-looking braid laid SY's missing tassle that Binghe had found for him all the way back at the Conference.

What the hell was Luo Binghe doing wearing that old tassle at this day and age??

A few days passed and the Tassle Incident (as he called it) had to be set aside, as it seemed that passing as a servant also meant that other servants and even some wives expected SY to actually work. Not great, he sucked at cleaning and the other servants spared no words to make it clear to him, but it at least gave him something to do while he waited for his Scissors to arrive. SQH had sent him a few messages saying he'd gotten his part of the deal done, so now all SY could do was monitor Xin Mo's condition (from very far away), and occasionally manually debug some small virus pieces that had fallen from the sword, which luckily were easy enough to deal with that he didn't need to cut them off.

The only thing that was worrying him now is how... odd Luo Binghe seemed. Of course, he was supposed to be the pinnacle of the Cool Guy trope, so some edginess was to be expected, but Binghe didn't look just Edgy, he looked straight up depressed. There were bags under his eyes, and he barely seemed to tolerate the presence of 99% of his wives, and that damned braid with the damned tassle was still there-

Point is, Binghe acting so weird really threw SY through a loop, and he may have gotten a bit careless. At a random day when SY was carrying some dirty laundry another servant had just shoved at him, he had no prior warning before a voice sounded from behind him: "You seem to have dropped something."

He barely managed to shake off the violent sense of deja-vu that had sucker punched him in the face before he realized what was happening; Luo Binghe was talking to him. Directly to him. Shit- shit! Did he notice? Was Binghe doing a clever call back, spider-man style?? Was SY going to die????

SY shakily turns to Binghe, keeping his eyes locked onto the floor, bowing as much as possible that he still seemed respectful but the bag of clothes he had didn't all just fall to the floor. Thankfully Binghe didn't seem to mind, and simply put the fallen piece of clothing on top of the others and walked away. Though, just as SY was regaining his breath, Luo Binghe's voice stops him again. "You... Have we met before?"

SY trembles something about only being hired recently and not having the opportunity to formaly meet Junshang, and it seems to be a decent enough that Binghe just stares at him for a while longer before walking away. He really should grow out his hair if even the Emperor got weirded out like that...

Binghe started eyeing SY way more after that day. The protagonist would rarely speak directly to him, but SY could feel his gaze as if it were burning; though, since Binghe never said anything, SY just assumed that whatever Binghe's problem with him was, it was likely nothing to worry about.

In fact, it probably was because one of Binghe's wives had used SY is an impromptu act to try to get Binghe jealous (he just frowned, separated the two and walked away) and after that she had gotten infatuated with him, so she'd turned SY into her personal servant. Because of that SY saw Binghe at most two times a week instead of the 50% chnace of seeing his shadow once a week. Wow.

Because of this, as much as Binghe noticed SY, SY noticed Binghe as well, the protagonist seeming to get even more down as the days went. The tassle was still braided in his hair (SY worried it was just going to become a lock at this point), his eyebags never seemed to leave his eyes, and he was always muttering about... something. (SY managed to overhear something about 'fairness' and what Binghe actually wanted...?)

It all culminated at a seemingly random night. Most of the wives and servants had gone to sleep, only the more in-human women still hanging around, and SY, of course, but mostly it was because he wanted to see how close he could get to Binghe's quarters (aka Xin Mo) at night. Not that it was necessary, as when he was walking his attention was adruptly caught by the strangest sight: Luo binghe, sitting on one of the stone stair that lead to one of the many courtyards, being absolutely drenched in rain. The weirdest part was that a few servants and wives had also passed this place, and they all seemed like they didn't see Binghe, or didn't care.

Hating to see such an usually proud man (not that he'd seen much of that either) just soaking outside as if he'd just caught the love of his life cheating with another man, SY decided that at least he'd do a good job as a servant and take care of 'his Lord'. He grabs an umbrella from one of the adjacent rooms and slowly walks outside, covering Luo Binghe's form, not really caring if he was also getting soaked.

They stayed silent for who knows how long, but eventually, Binghe's eyes that had been laser focused on the horizon slowly blink once, as if coming out of a trance, and slowly move to SY's face, up to his hand holding the umbrella. "My Lord should get back inside. He'll get sick that way." SY half murmurs.

Binghe doesn't respond, though after a few seconds, his eyes seem to widen a bit and his breath comes out a little shaky. SY doesn't dare comment on it.

"Have we met before?" Luo Binghe asks again.

"...Yes." Shen Yuan says.

Binghe closes his eyes, and they stay like that for another hour.

Pt.3

[bloodibambiidoll]

When You’re Gone

(Ex!Boyfriend!Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader)

Summary: You go to one of Eddie’s shows and see him for the first time since you broke up and he’s willing to do anything to win you back. WK: 5.8K

Warnings: Slight angst in the beginning, mention of heart break/break ups, Eddie was kind of dick before the break up but he’s sweet through this entire thing, pining, unprotected sex, fingering, sixty nine, just a lil bit of choking, fluff fluff fluff, lmk if I missed any! 18+MDNI!!

A/N: So I’ve been missing Eddie a lot, I’ve been thinking about writing for him again off and on but the fear that I have from being bullied in this fandom has stopped me. But I guess all it took for me to break was seeing that ASSS so, I offer you this. Idk when I’ll write ST again, maybe it’ll be consistent, maybe it won’t. I guess this is a bit of a trial run. I put my HEART into this, I really kind of poured everything I’ve been feeling the last few months into writing this so that makes me extra nervous. But I hope you guys like it, I love u🖤

You couldn’t believe you let Robin talk you into this. You hadn’t seen or talked to Eddie In months. Not since you stormed off the set of the music video he practically begged you to star in. He was being a gigantic snob the entire shoot. Telling you that “you weren’t doing it right” or “looks like we are going to have to shoot that again, can you get your head in the game, babe?” But the thing was your head was in the game and you were doing every single thing he asked exactly how he asked and yet it still wasn’t enough.

That was just the final straw. He had been acting like the sun revolved around him. Around his music. Around partying and blowing money just so he could brag about the shit he has. He started calling your friends and family back home less and less. Missing date nights. Forgetting anniversaries. He stopped telling you how beautiful you looked any chance he got and treating you like you were his everything because he had so much more than you now. Which you would never be upset about, you were and are still proud of him for every single thing he’s accomplished. But that problem was that he stopped being your Eddie almost entirely.

You hoped that it would pass, that it was just because it was all so new, the money, the fame, the adoration. But after almost two years it just continued to get worse and no matter how much you tried to bring it up to him he just reassured you time and time again that you meant everything to him. With no change. You couldn’t continue to give him everything while it felt like he virtually forgot you existed everyday. So you walked away, even though he was yelling after you, not because he wanted you to stay, but because he needed to get back on set and finish filming. You went back to your shared home, packed your things, and left.

Robin was more than happy to let you stay with her and her girlfriend while you got back on your feet. You couldn’t stay in L.A. without Eddie, he was all you had there. So you went back home to Indiana. To your friends and your family. Where you felt seen and you felt like you mattered again. But that didn’t take away the ache in your heart for him. The entire piece of you that felt like it was missing without him. Eddie had been a constant in your life since you were little.

You grew up together. You were both too stupid to get your heads out of your asses and admit how crazy you were about each other until you graduated highschool but you thought after that it would be forever. It’s always been you and him. You went through every phase, every hardship, every big life event with Eddie by your side. When him and the guys got that record deal you were more than happy to continue to stand by him through it all. But apparently he didn’t feel the same. Which felt like a stab in your chest day after day. You really did miss him so much. But you weren’t even sure if he missed you too.

Eddie was sweating fucking buckets. He hasn’t been this nervous for a show in over a year, going up in front of all those people was a walk in the park to him at this point. But knowing you were going to be here tonight changes everything. He wants it to be perfect. He’s been working on this song for you since you left, just hoping that he would have a chance to play it for you. He didn’t want you to hear it on the radio, no, he wants you to hear it directly from him. He wants to see your face after. He wants to tell you how sorry he is for losing sight of the only thing that made all of this worth it. He just wants you.

Not a day has gone by since you left that he didn’t feel empty. He couldn’t do anything without thinking of you. His favorite restaurants were your favorite restaurants. His favorite movies were your favorite movies too. Your side of the bed being empty made him feel so lonely that he started just passing out on the couch every night to avoid looking at it. He stopped going to parties. Hardly ever saw anyone unless he had to go to the studio or play a show. Tour was awful, you were by his side through their entire debut tour so doing it without you felt like doing it without one of his guitar strings, or his arm.

The fans could tell he was less engaged. His record label was on his ass and so were the guys. He just couldn’t seem to shake you. At this point none of it even feels like it matters if he can’t have you. You’re all he wants and if he has to do all of this without you, if this is what ruined the two of you, part of him doesn’t even want it. A big part. He’s thought about dropping everything and just flying home to beg at your doorstep. But each time he talked himself out of it, not even sure if you’d want to see him.

But tonight? You were going to be here at his show and this was his chance to win you back. He would give it all up for you in an instant, all you had to do was ask and he would do it, no matter what it was. So when Robin called him and asked him to set aside an extra ticket for you he felt like this was the universe giving him another shot. He just hoped you would too.

Your whole body was vibrating as you watched Eddie on stage, your heart felt like it was practically beating to the sound of his music, calling out to him. He looked good, really good, and as emotional as you are you still can’t deny the way your core throbs, and your thighs clench together at the sight of him. His hair was a perfect mess, the tattered at the knee jeans he was wearing fit him like a dream, and were reminiscent of the ones he used to wear, when he was your Eddie. Not the designer ones you’ve seen him in recently. He was wearing the battle vest you guys made in your first apartment before everything got chaotic and went to shit. With nothing under it. His tattooed chest and torso were on display and you noticed a few new additions. But your eyes nearly pop out of your head when they land on the little stick-n-poke heart with your initials in the middle that you gave him when you were 18 was touched up.

You can’t tear your eyes away from it for a good thirty seconds, just as they start to well up with tears you snap yourself out of it, looking up at his face again. This time locking eyes with him for the first time in nearly six months. Eddie’s soft chocolate eyes go wide and his fingers falter on the strings for half a second before he fucking smirks at you right as he picks up on the chorus. He keeps his eyes on you for the rest of the song, before announcing that they only had a few left.

Eddie is trying to focus on the crowd, focus on his chords, focus on anything but you, but it’s damn near impossible. His eyes just keep traveling back to you because he missed you so much, because you looked so fucking beautiful standing in the very front row under the stage lights and you were looking at him in a way that gave him hope. He made eye contact with a few fans, reached down to touch their hands, but no matter what he did he couldn’t keep his eyes off of you. When it came time to announce the second to last song he felt like his heart was going to beat out of his chest. His eyes lingered on yours for a moment before turning to address the crowd.

“Hey guys.” Cheers erupt all around you and Eddie smiles, flipping his sweaty hair back, making you and probably every other girl in the room swoon. “Thanks for coming out tonight, you’ve been fucking awesome. This next song is… well, it’s a new song. I mean, it’s new to you guys, I’ve been working on it for a while. So there’s this girl…” His eyes lock with yours again and your heart beats somehow even faster. “She’s here tonight and I really fucked things up with her, obviously some shitty song isn’t gonna erase all of that. But I guess this is just kind of my way of trying to make up for it. Or at least starting to.”

As the band plays the opening notes of the song you immediately notice it’s a lot slower and more melodic than their usual songs. They have a few other songs like this, love songs that Eddie wrote about you, happy ones. But this is nothing like that, especially when Eddie starts to sing. He never takes his eyes off of you as the lyrics fall from his lips, lyrics about how sorry he is, how badly he fucked up, how he misses you so much he feels like his soul is missing. He pours his heart out to you as his deep voice filled with longing fills the venue.

You can’t stop the silent tears that stream down your face, unable to tear your eyes away from his for even a second. Eddie Munson, the love of your life, the beautiful boy who you got to watch turn into an even more beautiful man, is standing in front of thousands of people practically begging you for another chance. And it’s like every dream you’ve had since you left coming true. All you wanted was for him to come back to you and apologize, maybe beg a little. You might be an idiot for holding out hope that he would, but you always knew in your heart that you’d take him back if he did. It might take some time for you to fully trust him again, but if he’s willing to try so are you.

As the song comes to an end Eddie thanks everyone, making the crowd go crazy. Then he announces that the next song will be their last before looking down at you again. The flashing lights dance over the tears streaming down your cheeks but you’re smiling at him and it makes his heart soar. And when you blow him a kiss that he of course catches, putting it close to his heart like he has a million times, he feels like a dorky teenager in love with his best friend again. He watches you disappear into the crowd and his heart falls, almost forgetting that he was even on stage performing, all he could see was you. He could hardly focus through the last song, hastily thanking everyone for coming because he was absolutely terrified that you left without even giving him a chance to talk to you face to face.

You push through the sea of sweaty bodies until you get to the far end of the stage, stopping in front of the security guard, who of course recognized you and let you pass without even glancing at the bracelet on your wrist. You run over to Robin, practically knocking her over.

“Whoa! Slow down dude, are you okay? That was… a lot.” Robin grabs onto your shoulders to center you, her eyes laced with concern.

“Yeah, I’m good, I’m uh - I’m gonna go wait for Eddie in his dressing room.” You bite your lip nervously, avoiding eye contact with her, scared of her reply.

“Oh thank god! I can’t wait to tell Steve the plan worked!” Robin’s eyes go wide as her hand comes to cover her mouth. “I meaaan…”

“You know what? I’m going to bug you about this later, but right now I have to go.”

“Yesss!!! Go get your man!!!”

You snort as you turn away from her, rushing down the hall until you see the door with Eddie’s name on it. You pace the room a few times before sitting down on the black leather couch, bouncing your leg so hard it makes the legs shake. The air feels especially humid as your nerves course through your body, the material of the couch sticking to your bare thighs with each bounce of your knee. You can’t stop messing with your hair, adjusting your top, fiddling your fingers. It’s probably only been ten minutes but it feels like it’s been an eternity when the door finally pushes open.

“Princess” Eddie stands in the doorway, looking stunned. His eyes are wide, and filled with adoration as his large ringed hand comes to rest against his chest. “Hi.”

“Hi Eddie.” You smile at him softly as you let out an almost dreamy sigh. “I liked your song.”

“Yeah?” He takes a few steps forward until there’s only a few feet between you. “I missed you. I’m so sorry, I was such a fucking idiot. I can’t believe I let you walk away.”

His eyes are sad as he casts them down, looking at his fingers as he fiddles with his rings. A classic tell tale sign that Eddie was nervous.

“And I totally get it if you don’t want anything to do with me still, I fucked up. Bad.”

“Eddie…” you sigh, standing up to close the remaining distance between you. You grab onto his hands, stopping his movements as you look up into his eyes. “Look at me.”

When he looks you in the eyes again his own are brimmed with tears, and his lip is quivering. And even though you’re still upset with him, all you want to do is comfort him. It was like second nature to you.

“I love you.” You say it so plainly, so matter of fact that it makes the tears flow down his cheeks, a heavy sob escape his chest. You grab onto his cheeks, pulling his forehead down to rest against yours. “I love you Eddie.”

“I love you. I love you so much. I miss you everyday. None of this is worth it without you. Everything feels so dull. Everything I do reminds me of you.” His hands come to rest over top of yours as his tears continue to flow, tears of your own now streaming down your face. “Please just give me a chance to make it up to you, sweetheart. I’ll do anything. I’ll leave it all behind. Never touch my guitar again. Cut off my arm. Anything.”

“Well, you don’t have to go doing all of that…” you chuckle, tilting your chin so you can connect his lips with your own. You pour everything into that kiss, your love for him, your hurt, your anger, your longing. And he does the same. Kissing you like he would die if he didn’t. You only pull away when you absolutely need to take a breath of air. Foreheads still connected as you pant against each other's lips, just inches apart.

“God I missed your lips, princess.” Eddie runs his hands down your face, cupping your jaw. “Missed every part of you.”

“I missed you too Eddie, god.” You kiss him again, this time running your tongue across his plush bottom lip. He immediately grants you access, intertwining your tongues with a groan. Your fingers come up to lace through his curls, and tug causing him to moan into your mouth. His hands travel down your body, resting on your hips, his thumbs just grazing that bit of skin between your top and your skirt. You push yourself further against him, moaning when his hands move to grab your ass.

“Baby, wait, don’t you think we should talk more?” He pulls away breathlessly tilting his head back so he can look at you.

“Later. We can talk later.” You take a few steps back, stumbling a little on your heeled boots as the backs of your knees hit the couch, you plop down, pulling Eddie down with you. He puts his hands on the back of the cushions on either side of your head so he can lean down over you, his face inches from yours, his hair almost acting like a curtain around you, shielding you from the outside world. “Kiss me again, please.”

“You don’t gotta beg, princess, I told you I’d do anything, didn’t I?” He smirks at you as kisses you again, slipping his tongue into your mouth. You moan as your fingers desperately grasp onto the sides of his vest, pulling him closer.

“Touch me, Eddie.” You whimper, leaning back to look up at him through your lashes, your lips are kiss swollen and your lipstick is all but nothing at this point.

“Baby, are you sure you don’t want to talk before we-“

“Eddie, I appreciate your chivalry, I really do. But you said anything, right? I want, need, to feel your fingers again, please.” And how could he resist you, when you’re looking at him like that? And your skirt is pushed so far up your legs he can see your little lace panties, his favorite pair, if he isn’t mistaken. He would literally lick the bottom of your boots if you asked him to.

“I told you that you don’t have to beg, doll, I’m the one that should be begging for the privilege of being able to touch you.” He smirks, planting a sloppy kiss on your lips before kissing down your jaw, to your throat, leaving little nips along the way. “Missed this body so much.”

One of his hands grabs onto the top of your thigh, his thumb running over your slit through the thin lace of your panties pulling a soft moan from your lips.

“Missed this pussy so much.” He grazes over your clit before applying light pressure, rubbing circles on it with the pad of his thumb. “You’re so wet for me already, your body missed me too, huh sweetheart?”

“Yes, missed you so much, baby.” You pull him down further so that his free hand is resting on the cushion next to you and his neck and jaw were close enough to kiss and suck bruises into. “Mine, mine, mine.”

“All yours.” He chuckles as pushes your panties to the side, circling two fingers around your entrance and curling them upwards, stroking them against your sweet spot immediately. “Oh, you’re so fucking tight, practically sucking me in.”

“My fingers were never be as good as yours - ohmyfuckinggod.” A loud moan rips through you and your head falls back against the couch as he starts to thrust his fingers quickly in and out of your dripping hole. His thumb finds your clit, circling it in time with his fingers as his lips attach to your neck, giving you a mark of his own.

“Never have to live without them again if you don’t want to, I’ll worship this pussy everyday until I die if you’ll let me.” Eddie kisses down your chest, using his free hand to push your little tank top and bra down, freeing your tits. He kisses across the tops of them, leaving gentle open mouth kisses on both your peaked nipples before licking between the valley of them. He slides his tongue over so he can latch onto one of your nipples and it sends you over the edge.

“Ohhh fuck! Eddie! I’m cumming, I’m fucking cumming.” Your pussy clenches around his fingers as he continues to thrust them deep and fast into you.

“Yeah, that’s it, baby girl, cum for me. You look so fucking beautiful.” He kisses your cheek before leaning up and pulling his fingers from you. He holds eye contact with you as he sucks them into his mouth with a groan. “Just as sweet as I remember.”

“Eddie, please fuck me, I need you.” Your legs are still spread, your glistening pussy practically calling his name, framed perfectly by those little panties that he loves so much like a work of fucking art. The way your shirt and bra are pushed down under your tits is making them look irresistible. He leans down, resting both of his hands on your knees, and smiles at you in a way that makes your stomach flip.

“You have no idea how fucking badly I want you right now, but can I take you back to my hotel? I wanna take my take with you.” He nuzzles his nose against yours before sliding it along your cheek, placing a soft kiss there.

“Okay, yeah, that sounds good.” You’re breathless and so fucking horny but the idea of getting to fuck Eddie in a bed, where you would be totally alone, sounded a lot more appealing than fucking him in a dressing room where anyone could walk in.

You grab onto Eddie’s vest and push it off his body the minute the door to his hotel room is shut behind you. You take his face in your hands, your eyes shining as you look up at him while you rub your thumbs across his temples.

“You’re so beautiful Eddie.” You coo at him, running your hands down his chest.

“I like your new tattoos… and this.” You run your pointer finger across the band of his pants before tracing the little heart on his hip. “When did you do this?”

“Uh - A few weeks ago.” He grabs the hand tracing along his hip and takes it in his own, bringing it up to his lips so he can place a gentle kiss on the back of it. “I was getting this other tattoo and my artist asked if I wanted to cover it up. I laughed at him and told him to touch it up instead.”

“Eddie… you feel heat rise in your cheeks as butterflies erupt in your stomach. “I want you so bad.”

“Yeah, pretty girl? I told you I’m all yours.” He grabs onto your hips, pulling you back toward the bed so he can sit on the edge of it with you between his spread legs. “Gonna worship this body, show you how much I missed you.”

He grips onto your shoulders rubbing them gently for a moment before hooking his fingers in the straps of your bra and tank top, pulling them down your shoulders. He leans forward, kissing along your bare collar bone as one of his hands snakes around under your skirt to grab a hand full of your ass.

“Missed these perfect tits.” He takes them in his hands, squeezing them, before he grabs onto the hem of your shirt and pulls it over your head. He reaches behind you to undo your bra, his fingertips gently gliding over your skin with each touch. He took his time taking your skirt off, kissing every inch of exposed skin he could until you were completely bare before him. “So fucking perfect, baby doll.” He grips onto your ass looking up at you with his bottom lip between his teeth. “Need to taste that sweet pussy.”

“Take your pants off first.” You reach forward and undo his belt before working on his button and zipper, popping them open to reveal his thick cock covered by the material of his boxers. He lifts his hips so you can pull them down to his ankles and you bend down to unlace his boots.

“Fuck, you look so sexy, makes me think about that time I made you hump my boot…” Eddie smirks down at you as he takes your face in his palm and runs his thumb along your bottom lip. It makes your pussy flutter around nothing.

“Yeah, that was one of the hottest things you’ve ever done, if I’m being honest.” You giggle before flicking your tongue out to run it along the pad of his digit.

“Jesus Christ, get up here before I bust from just looking at you.” Eddie grabs your hand, pulling you back up to your feet before kicking his pants off the rest of the way. He lays back on the bed, patting his chest. “Sit on my face, princess. Your throne missed you.”

You stand there for a moment, just looking at him. He keeps telling you how perfect you are but he doesn’t even realize how truly perfect he is. The way he was smiling at you like you hung the stars, his ink covered arms that are more toned now than when you were younger, along with his more broad chest that’s now nearly covered in tattoos. Your eyes travel down his torso to his happy trail, the v lines on his hips, and settle on the way that his cock is straining in his boxers. He was lying there, so perfect, calling his face your throne, and he is just so your Eddie.

“You good, sweetheart? Or are you hypnotized by my otherworldly handsomeness?” Eddie wiggles his eyebrows at you, leaning back on his elbows. You know he’s trying to be goofy but it only makes you even more desperate for him. You climb onto the bed to straddle him, your bare pussy resting on top of his cock, only separated by the thin material of his boxers.

“Yeah, I just really fucking need you.” You grind down on him, pulling a groan from him as you lean down to lick across his lips, sucking on the bottom one before pulling away with a pop.

“Fuck, get up here, now.”

He pats his chest and his tone has you clenching around nothing. He grips onto your ass, jiggling it in his hands before landing a smack on one of your cheeks. You moan as you scoot up so that your thighs are resting on either side of his head with your pussy hovering just over his mouth. Eddie wraps his arms around your legs, pulling you down so he can bury his face in between your legs. He licks a long stripe along your wet slit before circling your clit with his tongue.

“Oh - fuckingshit - feels so good.” You moan as he shoves his tongue as deep as he can inside you, flicking it against your inner walls.

“Yeah, that’s my good girl, missed this sweet fucking pussy so much.” He swirls his tongue inside you before he brings it up to your clit again, licking it with the flat of his tongue. He sucks your clit and your pussy lips into his mouth, causing your eyes to roll back.

“That’s so fucking good, yeah, eat my fucking pussy.” You lean back resting your hands on his thighs as you start to grind down on his face. You bring one of your hands to his cock, stroking him through his boxers, chasing him to moan even louder into your pussy. “Fuck, Eddie, I wanna taste you.”

You push yourself up off of his face and he looks up at you with a pout but before he can even protest you’re throwing one of your legs over his head so you can flip around and straddle his face reverse cowgirl.

“Oh jesusfuckingchrist, baby.” Eddie groans, grabbing onto both of your ass cheeks and jiggling the meat of them in his hands. You hook your fingers in the band of his boxers so you can pull his cock free, spitting on your palm and taking it in your hand. “Fuck.”

“Need to taste you too, baby.” You lean down, flicking your tongue out to leave little kitten licks on his tip before sucking it between your lips.

“God damn, princess, fucking missed your mouth so much.” Eddie moans as he uses his grip on your ass to pull your pussy down on his face again, burying his tongue deep inside.

You take him further down your throat, swirling your tongue around his shaft and using your hand to stroke what isn’t in your mouth. Eddie eats your pussy like a man starved, bringing his lips to your clit as he inserts two of his thick fingers inside you.

“Yes, yes, that’s so good, you’re gonna make me cum.” You pull off of him continuing to use your hand to stroke his spit soaked cock. He picks up the speed of his fingers as he sucks on your clit even harder. “Oh god - I’m - I’m fucking cumming!”

Your walls clench around his fingers and your thighs squeeze around his head as your high washes over you, loud moans and the sound of your wet pussy filling the room. Eddie doesn’t stop until you’re pulling off of him because it becomes too much. He grips onto your hips, flipping you over into your back before covering your body with his own. He connects your lips in a heated kiss, his lips and chin still slick with your wetness as you taste yourself in his tongue.

“Need to be inside of you, fuck.”

“Yes, please please fuck me, I need to feel you.” Eddie uses one hand to grip onto the base of his cock, running the tip through your folds before pushing it inside you. “Oh, god.”

“Shit baby, you’re so fucking tight, so fucking wet.” Eddie grunts as he bottoms out inside of you, pushing his hips flush against yours before pulling almost all the way out and slamming into you even harder. He starts to fuck you hard and fast, one of his hands on your hip while the other wraps around your neck just tightly enough.

“Yeah, fucking choke me, missed your hands around my throat, missed you, fuck.” Eddie picks up the pace, his hips smack loudly against yours as the hand on your hips moves down so he can rub circles in your clit.

“Fuck, baby girl, missed you too, missed this fucking pussy. Gonna fill you up, need you to cum for me.” The hand around your throat squeezes just a little tighter as his lips crash against yours. Your hands are gripping onto his shoulders so tight you wouldn’t be surprised if your nails break the skin. His circles on your clit never let up as he tilts his hips so he’s hitting your sweet spot just right.

“Oh - my fucking - fuck, I’m cumming I’m fucking cumming.” Your pussy squeezes him like a vise grip as you run your nails down his back.

“Gonna cum too, baby, gonna fill this pussy up so good. Never quitting you. Gonna marry you someday.” Eddie’s thrusts grow sloppy until he’s pushing his hips flush against yours and emptying inside of you. He buries his face in your neck, rocking his hips slowly as he rides out his high. He lets his body rest on top of yours, placing gentle kisses on your neck. You bring your hands to his head and lace your fingers through his hair so you can lightly scratch his scalp.

“I love you, Eddie.” You sigh, dreamily. “I know we have some stuff to work through, and talk about, but I’d really like to make it work. You really wanna marry me someday?”

“What!” Eddie pushes up on his hands, so he can look at you, a big goofy smile on his face. “Of course I wanna fucking marry you! It’s only been the plan since we were 8 and I gave you that ring I won with arcade tickets.”

“I just… I don’t know, I thought maybe you got sick of me and that’s why…”

“Baby…” Eddie’s voice suddenly sounds a little sad, maybe guilty. “That was never… I would never, fuck. Hold on.”

He gets up off the bed so he can find his vest, he picks it up off the ground and pulls something from the pocket before coming back to sit next to you on the bed.

“Can you sit up for me?” You sit up in front of him, looking at him with a raised eyebrow and a pout on your lips. “I got this… well, I got this a few months before you left and I was just waiting for the right time, ya know? And honestly it never came because I had my head so up my own ass that I wasn’t making the time. But uh - I want you to have it. Even if you don’t say yes, I got it for you, so it’s yours…”

He opens his hand to reveal a little black square box and when he opens it, sitting inside is the most beautiful ring you’ve ever seen. Set in the middle is a big shiny ruby, bracketed by two little bat wings on each side that lead into the band. It was perfect, you’ve been telling him practically your whole lives that if someone proposed to you with a boring ass dimond you would say no, no matter how big it was.

“Eddie…” Your eyes well up with tears as your bottom lip quivers. “Is that really for me?”

“Princess.” He chuckles, reaching a hand out to wipe away a stray tear that escaped. “Of course it’s for you. It’s always been you. And it always will be. Even if you don’t want me back.”

“Eddie, I - yes.” You smile widely at him, wrapping your hand around his wrist so you can turn your head to place a kiss there. “It’s always you, you’re the only one for me. You have a lot of making up to do… and it might take me some time to get fully over all of this but… I still wanna marry you. It’s you and me, till the day we die, stab a goblin in the eye.”

“Yeah baby.” He chuckles, a few tears of his own streaming down his face. You still wanted him. You were going to take his ring. You were sitting here in front of him more beautiful and grown than ever, repeating the words that you had said to each other as kids more times than he could count. “Till the day we die.”

He pulls the ring from the box and you offer him your left hand so he can slide it on your finger. You both smile widely and teary eyed at each other as he pulls you into a kiss. This one is different, this one is full of promise and hope and it’s like coming home. He rests his forehead against yours as he rubs the apples of your cheeks with his thumbs.

“Stab a goblin in the eye.” He chuckles, smiling widely as he places another gentle kiss on your lips.

Taglist: @littlexdeaths @babygorewhore @eddiesxangel @voyeurmunson @rowanswriting @hippiegoth97 @jenniquinn @take-everything-you-can

[andypantsx3]

BY THE BOOK : MIDORIYA IZUKU X READER

SUMMARY: When your pro hero boyfriend comes home to find you studying, he suddenly takes a great interest in helping out. You find his methods... questionable. TAGS/WARNINGS: nsft, hysterical literature (reading out loud while sexually stimulated), pro hero deku, deku still has ofa, support tech grad student reader, slight intelligence kink, gn + afab reader, cunnilingus, established relationship, aged up characters, fluff (3k) NOTES: Hi guys! I have been in survival mode as of late and the writing has been slow going; my sincerest apologies for how long it’s taking me to burn down my @ficsforgaza backlog. But I finally had the time & energy on my hands this weekend to work on this one and I had such a blast!! I hope I’m not too rusty—and if I am, I hope you enjoy it as much as I loved writing it regardless lol. Love you and thank you always for your patience. Happy Holidays!!

Sometimes, you thought you could tell your boyfriend was near, even before you heard his key in the lock.

It was something to do with his power, you’d always suspected—as a support engineer unduly interested in other people’s capabilities, you’d spent hundreds of hours turning it over in your head. It was the unnatural immensity of other people’s powers, you thought, pulling and coiling just beneath the surface of Izuku’s skin. In close proximity, after prolonged use, its presence felt like a shiver up the back of your neck.

You felt the barest hint of it now, an unsettled feeling creeping into the marrow of your bones, and you sat up on the couch just as you heard the scratch of Izuku’s keys at the door.

One For All fit cleanly into Izuku’s own unwavering intensity somehow, like the last piece of his puzzle. Though one would certainly never think so looking at him as he spilled through the door, pink-cheeked from the cold, all bright eyes, sweetly angelic features, and a riot of wild green curls. He looked windswept from the biting winter breeze. He also looked too kind to be carrying the sort of power he did—too sweet and eager and lovely.

“Look what the wind blew in,” you grinned at him over the back of the couch, after assessing he was well. Your eyes tracked the sinuous movement of those broad shoulders as he yanked his mouthguard over his head, the flex and pull of his bicep as he hung it beside the door. He was moving without pause, no sign of injury or muscle strain , and his suit was intact. Ordinarily you didn’t mind if there was a bit of shredding about the abs as long as he came back to you whole and hale, but in the winter you didn’t like him wandering about risking the chance of frostbite.

Your heart fluttered when Izuku returned your smile with one of his own, so beautiful and bright, chasing away the cold he’d tracked in like a warm sliver of sun.

“Lots of small, easy fights today?” You guessed, judging from his intact suit but clear whiff of power about him.

Izuku scrubbed a hand through that riot of curls, exposing the reddened shell of a cold ear. “I only had to use blackwhip a couple of times,” he said as he shouldered the door closed behind him, the muscle of his thighs flexing enticingly as he stepped out of his boots.

You gestured at the pot of soup you’d left warming on the stove, and the veritable pile of crusty bread beside it. Warmth and carbs, exactly what you would have wanted if you were a pro hero fresh off a long day of patrolling in the snow.

Izuku’s eyes fixed on it with an obliging amount of interest, and he almost tripped over himself in the genkan in his haste to get to the kitchen. “I love you,” you heard him say, muffled through a mouthful of bread, heard the clatter of the silverware drawer and a bowl being placed on the counter.

You smiled and turned back to the book in your lap, a particularly dry, knotty text on robotic imitation learning that had had your eyes drifting closed for the better part of an hour. It was the last you’d need to get through for your Wearable Technologies graduate course, and something you were deeply interested in incorporating into your design practice. You could train a piece of equipment on how an individual pro hero moved and deployed their quirk, and use predictive modeling to deploy assistance functionalities within milliseconds if you got it right—such as immediate cooling in pro hero Shouto’s temperature vest the moment he ignited an arm.

The implementation was going to be so cool—but the theory was so mind numbing.

You felt the couch sink in beside your feet, and Izuku peered interestedly at the title in your lap.

“Introduction to Robotic Imitation Learning,” he echoed, and you could hear the note of excitement in his voice. You suppressed a fond smile, knowing he was already thinking through the same applications you had—he was just as much of a nerd as you were.

“Introduction to Snoozing and Napping,” you grumbled, turning back to your page. “There are only so many words on the Kalman filter framework a brain can handle before the human mind shuts itself down.”

Izuku hummed in interest around a spoonful of soup, propping himself up against your leg. The exterior of his suit was still cool from the outside, and he groaned with relief from the warmth of your skin, even as you hissed at the chill.

You knew he wanted you to go on, so you generalized for him. “It’s an algorithm used for robotic motion planning—you not only take measurements of the thing you want to model but you account for uncertainties to predict the probability that something is going to happen.”

Izuku nodded, taking another spoonful of soup, gesturing for you to go on.

You summoned up the willpower to explain joint probability distribution, pleased when Izuku easily managed to follow—he’d always been a quick study, especially of anything that could be employed in the service of heroics. You’d long thought if he hadn’t been gifted his quirk, he would be an insane support engineer.

He managed to finish his entire bowl of soup in the time it took you to explain, and housed another two slices of buttered bread with the sort of alacrity you’d only ever seen in pro heroes and professional athletes, making you smile while you spoke.

His spoon clinked softly against the edge of the bowl as he set them aside on the coffee table, and he hooked his chin over your knees as you finished explaining. In the setting sun from your windows he looked especially lovely, the kind, angular planes of his face brushed in gold, softening the spots of his freckles.

His eyes were especially bright, the way they always were when something in particular had caught his interest, and he smiled at you again over the tops of your knee caps.

“I admire how smart you are,” he told you, in the simple, straightforward way he always gave out compliments. It was like a shot to the heart every time, and you could feel your face warm with the praise even after years of receiving similar compliments.

You reflexively flapped a dismissive hand. “Not smart enough to have internalized it all! I have mostly been falling asleep to it,” you promised him.

He tilted his head, a green curl falling into his eyes. “I know you won’t have a problem when you’re awake.”

You shifted your legs with embarrassment, and a long fingered hand came up to cup the front of your thigh, as Izuku turned more fully towards you. You could feel the warm, hard planes of his chest against your shins, the line of his jumpsuit’s zipper pressing insistently just below your knee.

“Gotta try to impress you somehow,” you joked, your skin prickling as Izuku’s fingers absent-mindedly drew a pattern across your thigh. You could feel the heat of his hand through the thin material of the leggings you’d lounged around in all day, the chill finally chased away from his skin now that he’d come inside and warmed up.

“You do impress me,” he said in his soft, gentle tone. Which made your cheeks and nose burn hotter.

You knew you did, and the steady faith Izuku had in the people around him was one of your favorite things about him. It still made you feel like a middle schooler with a crush to think about, though, the intensity of your feelings too much for one body to handle.

“I will study hard to live up to your faith in me,” you promised, unable to help the goofy smile you knew you were giving him.

Izuku’s chin shifted against the tops of your knees, and he pressed his mouth to the knob of your left one, leaving a smiling kiss. “Tell me more?” he asked, fingers still sliding softly over your thigh.

“I’ll read it to you as I go, then,” you said, turning back to the brick of a tome, propping it up more firmly on your stomach as you adjusted yourself against the couch arm. Izuku’s eyes watched you over the top of the pages, that emerald gaze tracking your face closely.

“‘The algorithm works via a two-phase process: a prediction phase and an update phase’,” you began, trying to turn your attention away from Izuku and back to the text. “‘In the prediction phase, the Kalman filter produces estimates of the current state variables, including their uncertainties. Once the outcome of the next measurement (necessarily corrupted with some error, including random noise) is observed, these estimates are updated using a weighted average, with more weight given to estimates with greater certainty.’”

Izuku’s long fingers traced firmer lines across your thighs, almost like he was taking notes. He layered another kiss along the line of your knee, eyes glittering at you as you read.

“‘The algorithm is recursive,’” you continued, “‘It can operate in real time, using only the present input measurements and the state calculated previously and its uncertainty matrix; no additional past information is required.’”

You almost jumped as Izuku’s mouth trailed lower, into the space between your knees, leaving kisses along your inner thigh. His fingers gently pulled one thigh away to make space for him in between, and you cleared your throat, trying to return to the text at hand.

“‘Optimality of Kalman filtering assumes that errors have a normal–that is, Gaussian–distribution,’” you read on. “‘The following assumptions are made about random processes: Physical random phenomena may be thought of as due to primary random sources exciting dynamic systems. The primary sources are assumed to be independent gaussian random processes with zero mean; the dynamic systems will be linear.’”

Izuku let out a soft breath, insinuating himself further between your thighs. Your own breath came out a little uneven as he bent over you, mouth tracking dangerously towards the inseam of your leggings.

You paused, but Izuku fixed you with a look of his slightly-darkened eyes. “Please—keep reading,” he said, his tone a little lower than it had been a minute ago.

You swallowed in shocked understanding, skin tingling. You felt yourself nod, as Izuku’s fingers strayed to the waist of your pants, dipping below the band.

You let him slowly peel your leggings down, your underwear with them, adjusting as needed to make it easy for him, even as you tried to return your attention to your textbook.

“‘Regardless of Gaussianity, however, if the process and measurement covariances are known, then the Kalman filter is the best possible linear estimator in the minimum mean-square-error sense,’” you quoted, nearly squeaking when Izuku pressed his mouth to your hip, his curls tickling the skin of your belly. His hands gripped either side of your thighs, palms square and rough against your skin, and you tried not to shiver with the feeling.

“Um—‘Although there may be better nonlinear estimators’,” you said, then nearly jumped out of your skin when Izuku pressed his mouth to the core of you, only the strength of his grip stopping you from accidentally kicking him in surprise.

“Oh my g—uh! It—um—‘It is a common misconception perpetuated in the literature that the Kalman filter cannot be rigorously applied unless all noise processes are assumed to be Gaussian,’” you managed, before your cut off into a groan as Izuku layered a hot, sweet kiss over you, tongue dipping carefully between your folds. “Ah-–Izuku—”

Izuku petted a thumb gently over the top of your thigh to show he was listening, even as he swiped his tongue over you again, a long, firm stroke that had your thighs flexing in his hold. He laved over your clit, sucking ever so slightly, and your grip almost tore the edge of your textbooks as it tightened.

“Keep going,” he urged briefly, then did it again, punching a groan out of you.

“Extensions—oh—‘Extensions and generalizations of the method have also been developed, such as the extended Kalman filter and the unscented Kalman filter which work on nonlinear systems,’” you read on, voice shooting up nearly into a squeal when two of Izuku’s long, firm fingers pressed into you, as his mouth moved over you again.

“Ah! Oh my god—the—um, the basis—-” you said, breath growing short. Izuku’s fingers unerringly found the spot inside you that made you twist in his grip with the ease of long practice, and his jaw worked as he kissed you so shockingly filthily. You could feel something already starting to build up behind your navel, a fluttery lightness, an insatiable insistence on more.

“‘The basis a hidden Markov model—oh, fuck—such that the state space of the latent variables is continuous and all latent and observed variables have–ah!--Gaussian distributions,’’’ you recited, your voice tripping up further into a register that sounded more like begging than reading.

Izuku’s fingers worked you, long and thick and perfect inside you, as his tongue drew unrelenting circles around your clit. Stars seemed to spark in your vision, and your eyes squeezed shut, losing your place on the page as your hips flexed into his face. You felt suddenly very floaty and lightheaded, and not at all in a position to keep going.

Still, you tried to refocus your attention.

“‘K–Kalman filtering has been used successfully in—oh—multi-sensor fusion—ah, ah!--and distributed sensor networks–fuck, please, Izuku—to develop distributed or consensus Kalman f-filtering,’” you said, your tone nearly a cry.

Izuku groaned softly, sucking gently as his fingers curled inside you. It made your veins spark under your skin, your legs shaking in Izuku’s hands. You abandoned your grip on your book to seize the arm of the couch, clawing desperately at the fabric.

“Please, Izuku,” you cried, hips bucking towards his mouth.

The book tumbled off your stomach but you hardly noticed, gaze refocusing on the way his eyelashes fluttered as he licked you. His fingers played gently within you, a maddening press that was simultaneously too much and not enough, and his other hand came up to slide under your sweater, plucking gently at your nipple.

You lost yourself to the feeling—caught between the mind-melting curl of his fingers, the delicate suction of his mouth, and the careful pinch of your nipple. A delicious heat curled through you, waves of unbearable pleasure, and you could hear yourself babbling nonsense—garbled syllables of Izuku’s name, and every entreaty you could think of, a hundred thousands mores and oh pleases.

Izuku abandoned your nipple to pull you more firmly against him with a strong arm curled under your thigh, pressing you even harder into his mouth.

You muffled a scream in the sleeve of your sweater as he sucked you harder, tongue laving over you in loving strokes. Only his terrible strength held you down as you writhed beneath him, and then his fingers twisted in a way that had your vision whiting out—and you were suddenly thrown out over the edge of your pleasure.

Izuku licked you through it as you squirmed and begged and cried out his name, your climax seeming to last for eons.

You were panting hard when you finally slumped into the cushions of your couch, the ceiling seeming to swim in and out of focus before your eyes. When you gained enough control of your body again you looked down at Izuku, finding him watching you with a satisfied, almost shy curl to his mouth.

“You’re beautiful,” he told you, emerald gaze glittering with sincerity. “You’re so smart.”

Impossibly you felt your heart swell with even more love for him, and you seized his shoulder, dragging him up over you so you could kiss his mouth. The taste of yourself on him was embarrassing yet thrilling, and you petted a pleased hand through Izuku’s wild mess of curls as you kissed him.

“Well you are amazing,” you told him, swiping a thumb over his cheek fondly, smoothing over his freckles. A gorgeous watercolor of pink washed over his cheeks and nose at the proclamation, and you could hear his fingers flex in the cushion beside your head.

The sight of him flushed and waiting over you like another small something inside of you, like a pilot light, and you let your mouth pull into a wry grin.

“I hope you know I learned nothing though,” you said casually, your plan for your next steps already forming in your head. You let a hand trail carefully down Izuku’s flank, tracking towards his waist. “I think maybe I might need a few rounds for it to really sink in.”

Izuku’s ears went red against the green of his hair, and you felt your smile widen. “Maybe you could read it to me this time?” you asked, guiding him to roll under you, retrieving your book from the floor as you did so.

You settled yourself on the tops of Izuku’s thighs, feeling the hard press of him against your core, as you placed your textbook into his waiting hands.

Izuku’s answering smile was all the permission you needed. You directed him to start from the beginning of the chapter, and he did so in that soft, lilting tone of his you so loved. And then your fingers trailed up to the zipper at his collar.

It was time to return the favor—wholeheartedly.

REFERENCES: Kalman Filtering (Wikipedia) I took the passages our Reader recited from here because I do not actually understand Kalman filtering at all and could not organically come up with feasible text for her to read through. Sorry in advance to the author of this page lol.

[nanenna]

The Best Laid Plans

Sleepy King Master Post (for my contributions anyway)

---

“I’m driving,” Jazz announced, snatching the keys from her dad as they all walked to where the GAV was parked on the city hall’s lawn.

“Young lady,” Mom started to scold.

“I only have a limited amount of time to drive with supervision before I’m off to college and driving all by myself.” Jazz gave her parents the biggest puppy dog eyes she could muster.

“And I am more than happy to be that supervision,” Vlad said as he reached for the front passenger seat.

Danny quickly jumped into the back seat, as far away from Vlad as he could get. Jazz adjusted the seat and mirrors while she waited for her parents to get in. Then she looked Danny in the eye through the rear view mirror, “The engine doesn’t start until every last person is buckled in.”

“C’mon, Jazz! Even if your grandma driving somehow got us into a car accident we both know I’d be fine.”

“I’m not repeating myself.”

Danny grumbled as he buckled himself in, Jazz kept her smirk to a minimum as she started the car. While she drove them to Vlad’s home she half listened to her parents explain the situation to him, the other half of her attention being spent watching the cars on the road around her swerve and nearly crash around her. She pulled up to a red light next to another car, the passenger staring up at her dumbfounded. Jazz smiled and waved.

“So you’re telling me Daniel is now the Ghost King,” Vlad asked as they pulled up to his mansion.

“That’s what it looks like,” Dad agreed boisterously. “Right now it seems like a meaningless title, but we’re worried about him getting randomly summoned by those darn occultists!”

“A bunch of fanatics with ludicrous ideas,” Mom said with a sniff. “I’d hate to think what they’d try to do to Danny if it ever happens again.”

There was a pause as they all got out of the GAV, then walked into Vlad’s mansion together.

“That doesn't explain why you're here. Shouldn't you be in school, young lady?”

“Apparently it's school policy to send siblings home in these kinds of situations.” And Jazz was so thankful for that!

“And Danielle?”

“She doesn’t go to our school, now does she?”

Vlad nodded along before turning his attention fully on Mom. “I’m guessing you have a plan?”

“Of course,” Mom replied without another thought. “Since we’re pretty sure the title is attached to the crown, we’re going to destroy it and hope it destroys the Ghost King title.”

Vlad stopped in his tracks, “You’ll what?”

Dad patted Vlad on the shoulder consolingly, “I know, I’m sure Danny would be a good king too, but he’s adamant he doesn’t want to. And the risk of a bunch of wacko cultists kidnapping him is just too big.”

“It’s not like you want me to be king anyway,” Danny added with a smirk.

“Well… Little Badger, you’re so young!” Vlad blurted out.

“And it’s weird, you’ve had the crown for over a year now, but I’ve never seen you use it.”

Vlad sighed deeply, “I’ve tried, but it just doesn’t do anything.”

Danny just nodded, “So if it doesn’t work anyway isn’t it better if no one can?”

Vlad side eyed Danny before shrugging, “You do have a point. I shall go retrieve the crown, one moment.” He turned and left the sitting room he’d led them to.

The Fentons all sat down on various pieces of furniture. Their parents shared a couch, sitting as close together as possible, while Jazz and Danny each sat in a chair of their own. Danny sighed and slouched in his seat.

“Danny, have you let Sam and Tucker know what's going on yet?” Jazz asked. It seemed the easiest way to distract him while they waited.

“Yeah, kinda. I told them I was home safe and would explain everything after school.”

Jazz nodded, that seemed the safest.

“They promised to bring me my homework,” Danny added with a groan. “It's so unfair! I got kidnapped, shouldn't I get- oh shit!” Danny practically threw himself out of his chair.

“Language,” Mom chided.

“Don't sneak up on me like that!” Danny whined as he picked himself up off the floor. Then he froze, eyes glaring at seemingly empty space. “How did you sneak up on me? You didn't activate my ghost sense at all.”

Danny waited, presumably a ghost they couldn't see was responding. Jazz had learned from the Youngblood incident, she quietly pulled out a collapsed boo-staff from her purse.

“You don't know who I am?”

…

“Well yes, but ghosts don't usually call me that.”

…

“How about you tell me your name first?” After another pause he burst into laughter. “Are you for real?”

“Danny, is it Youngblood?”

“Huh?” Danny looked to Jazz, then back to the open space. He gestured, “You can't see him?”

Jazz and their parents shook their heads.

Vlad came back into the room holding a cardboard box, knocking a thin layer of dust from the top. “Here it is!” He looked up and frowned. “Who are you, and why are you in my home?”

Everyone paused for the response.

“He didn't set off my ghost sense,” Danny added, he turned back to the empty space, “Are you even a ghost?”

A window burst, shattering into many flying shards under Batman’s combat boots. Jazz instinctively covered her face and shrieked. By the time she looked up the blond man in a trenchcoat from earlier was climbing through the shattered window while muttering to himself.

“Was that really necessary?!” Vlad yelled angrily.

The blond man pointed at Danny and said something, dazzling light flew from his finger to hit Danny, leaving him standing there braced for impact but looking fine.

Mom squawked, “What'd you do?!”

“Danno! Are you okay?” Dad rushed over to check Danny over.

“I think I'm okay?” Danny said shakily as he straightened up from his protective curl to look himself over.

There was a familiar burning crown floating over his head.

“Huh,” the blond man said, “that was supposed to reveal your true form.”

“Congrats, this is my true form,” Danny said with an eye roll.

“Danny, above your head,” Jazz said carefully. Unfortunately that got everyone's attention, far more than Wonder Woman slipping into the room.

Danny looked up, “What? Where?”

“No Danny, it's the crown,” Mom supplied, coming over to stand next to him while glaring at the heroes and their pet wizard. (That was unkind, Jazz shouldn't think such things.)

Dany reached up and felt around until he found the crown, then pulled it down to look at. “Okay, crown retrieved.”

“We may have a problem,” Vlad said as he pulled an identical crown from his cardboard box.

“What.” Danny looked back and forth between the crown in his hand and the one in Vlad's. “Why are there two?” Danny turned to the pet wizard, “What did you do?!”

“I didn't do anything, that was purely an identification spell, it can't duplicate things!”

“Well clearly you did something wrong,” Mom said while glaring at the pet wizard.

Jazz extended the boo-staff and came to stand slightly in front of Danny, these guys may have powers but Jazz had helped fight bigger, badder beings.

Vlad started to step backwards, back towards the hallway.

“Oh no you don’t!” Danny let go of his crown as he ran over to grab the crown Vlad was still holding, it quickly turned into a tug of war.

“Vladdie? What are you doing?” Dad asked in confusion.

“You don’t need two crowns, and since this one was already in my possession…”

“Absolutely not, you fruitloop!”

“Danny!” Mom and Dad both chided.

The Justice Leaguers had all gathered together and were just watching, seeming unsure what to do after all their silly dramatics.

Vlad glowered down at Danny’s hands on the crown, then his eyes widened. He switched to trying to grab Danny’s hand.

Danny looked down, his own eyes widened as he curled his hand into a fist. “Is that the Ring of Rage?! What the hell, that should still be on Pariah’s finger!” Danny looked at the pet wizard in horror, “What. Did. You. Do?!”

“Danny, Vlad, stop it both of you!” Mom moved over to the two and tried to separate them, Dad joined her and was doing his best to cajole them both into backing down. For her part Jazz kept her eyes on the intruders while the rest of her family and Vlad squabbled.

“Alright, that’s enough,” the pet wizard said grumpily before raising his voice. “Shut up!”

[romanteacism]

Knight Aemond x Princess Reader Particular Risk

Synopsis: They say taking a risk could drown you-- but you knew it must be taken, and if you were to jump in the deep end, your knight would always follow you closely behind. Warnings: None (yet), Aemond and Princess Realizations, Jealousy, Fluff, Princess Taking Risks PREVIOUS PART / NEXT PART A/N: MWAH 💋

“No! I’ve already worn this last year— and this the year before that!” You explained as you tried to find a headpiece for your father’s name day celebration. It was a tradition that each name day of the king was celebrated with a masquerade ball— a tradition you had looked forward to each year, always amused and excited to attend such an event. Through the years, it had become vexing as you took it upon yourself to wear a headpiece unique and unlike the other you had worn or anything similar to other members of the court. “How about this, princess? It—“ You cut off the masque maker, “My cousin had already worn a mask similar to that one three years before,” You sighed, struggling to find the final piece of your ensemble for the ball that was fast approaching. 

“If I may, princess— perhaps you have a design in mind? If none of these are to your liking, we are more than happy to create a piece completly unique to you.” The masque maker suggested, not wanting to leave their princess unhappy. You paused for a moment and thought about the proposition before nodding; Ser Aemond was quick to your aid and handed you your leather-bound sketchbook and charcoal. You smiled upon him in gratitude, trying to urge yourself to grow accustomed to the quickening in your heart each time your eyes met and your skin brushed. Aemond marveled at how quick you were to sketch what you desired, quickly creating what you wished. You tore the page and handed it to the masque maker. It was a mask in the intricate design of a butterfly wing. “And I want it to be made with sapphires and… and perhaps gold, if it’s not too heavy,” You say, pointing at the places you wished to put the precious gemstones. “Of course, princess, we shall make it right away,” The masque maker bowed and proceeded to leave with haste to complete your masque for the ball that was merely three days away. 

As he left you, bit your lip and frowned, “Did you think I was too demanding?” You suddenly asked Ser Aemond as you rested your back on your settee. Second-guessing your particularity and having to ask the masque maker to make you a specific mask when, in truth, the masks he presented were completely adequate. “No, princess,” Aemond replied, questioning why you asked such a question. “Why would you think so?” You sighed and shrugged, “Well, it’s just… I feel guilty— maybe the masque maker thinks I do not think his designs are good to the point that I had to make my own; I do not wish to offend him…” You pouted, taking hold of the masques he had left, twirling the feather decoration between your fingers. “You are too kind, princess,” Aemond said, his heart warming and concerned at how such a little encounter made you feel guilty. “You know what it is you want— that is an admirable quality,” Aemond hummed.

“Is it? My mother always said my particularity is a sin because it makes me demanding,” You muttered. Aemond straightened his stance, “There is a difference between knowing what you want and demanding what you want, princess,” He said, “Being demanding is you take for granted all that you are given— asking and asking for more without even a speck of gratitude. That is not you, princess… that is never you,” You smiled at your knight as his words only made you fall deeper for him. “That is very kind of you to say,” You smiled, trying to reign in the flush that crept up your cheeks. Aemond bit the insides of his cheeks as he realized the smile on your lips was because of him. 

When the day of the ball arrived, the keep was busied to prepare for the night's festivities. Ser Aemond stood outside your door as you were prepared for the party in your father’s name, observing and listening to your pacing footsteps as you frantically got ready. “Tighter, please.” You say as you steadied yourself by the poster of your bed. “Are you certain, princess? Can you even breathe?” Your handmaid questions, apprehension heavy in her voice. You nodded and took in a deep breath as your corset was tightened to your liking. You let out a sigh as your body was hugged further by the bodice of your dress. You moved towards your vanity as your handmaid began to style your hair. Theodore lept upon the table, and you cooed at your cat, who was almost fully grown, placing a special collar and a special headpiece on his head so he would not feel left out for the day’s gala. 

A knock sounded out as your handmaiden finished styling your hair. You thanked her and dismissed her, and in exchange, Ser Aemond entered your chambers holding two silk boxes. “Your masque has arrived, princess,” Ser Aemond stated and placed down the boxes on your vanity table. A wide grin spread upon your lips as you inspected the mask made to your specifications and wants. He turned towards the other box, not certain of what it could contain, for he knew you had only sent out one design, but he did not question it. 

You gently placed down the masque and stood, taking hold of the unopened box, and walked to Ser Aemond, urging him to take it. “Pardon, princess?” he asked as he was uncertain what you meant. “It’s yours— I sent them another design and asked them to make a mask for you,” You smiled. Aemond blinked. “I… I am not in need of a mask, princess— I am not a guest.” He said, but you only shook your head. 

“All who will be in the hall later are in need to wear a masque! You are to be my side later on, are you not?” You question, and Ser Aemond nodded. “Of course, I will be by your side—but I do not need a mask— if anything, it would hinder me from my duty. I already only have one eye; it would be cumbersome if I wore a mask and obstructed the view of the other,” He explained, and you pursed your lips. “Which is why I designed one specifically for you,” You say and urge him once again to open the box. Ser Aemond did so hesitantly. Aemond pursed his lips as he was presented with a mask that matched yours. One that covered his damaged eye with a gleaming sapphire. Aemond swallowed thickly, at a loss for words. Had you known his secret? How did you know all that he hid? 

“Do you not like it?” You asked, slight dread in your stomach as your knight only gaped upon the mask you designed. “No— I…I do,” He suddenly spoke, fearing he offended you. You bit your lip as you could not read his eye, “If you truly do not wish to wear a mask, I understand,” You said and tried to take it from his hold, but he hindered you. “No, I shall wear it. Thank you, princess,” your knight assured, and you nodded, hoping you did not force upon your knight the mask. 

“Princess, the guests are arriving,” You hear a squire call out, and you move to wear your mask and carry Theodore in your arms. As you turned your gaze to your knight, Ser Aemond had already forgone his eyepatch and wore the mask that matched yours— a picture of unity that you could humor yourself with. You smiled as he led out his arm for you to take as the two of you went down to the reception hall. “Happy name day, Father!” You greeted as you saw your father standing by the great doors, already wearing his mask. “Thank you, my darling, and don’t you look lovely,” The king smiled, kissed his daughter on the cheek, and petted her beloved cat. The king moved to glance at the knight who stood behind his daughter, Ser Aemond giving a bow at the king, who gave a nod and noticed how Ser Aemond’s maks matched his daughter’s; the king said naught a word. 

You took your place by the left of your brother, and your knight stood behind you. “Did you truly bejeweled your cat’s collar?” Your brother asked, looking upon Theodore, who was perfectly behaved in your arms. “Of course! No child of mine would be underdressed!” You say, placing a kiss on your cat’s back, and your brother lets out an amused breath as you claim the feline to be your child. You greeted the guests who attended the celebration, but you could not help but be distracted and glance towards your knight— sneaking a look upon him as he surveilled all who came and, if any, presented danger. Gods, the sapphire truly suited him. You could not help but think. You let out a breath and returned to face forward to return at the matter at hand, fearing Ser Aemond would notice your glances and learn of your affection for him. 

When the party had moved to the great hall, you found your way back to your knight, ushering you along the crowded room. The two of you were supposed to make your way toward the long table at the end of the grand hall, but the call of your name, unchained by any title, made you both pause. Ser Aemond was quick to frown at who had the gall to call upon you so openly. He turned to you, and before he could utter a word, you left his side and readily ran towards the call. Aemond felt a twisting in his gut as you ran towards the man and threw your arms around him— the stranger twirling around and even went as far as to kiss your cheek. Aemond swallowed thickly, not knowing what to do. He knew he must be by your side, but he could not bear to be there when another took his place. 

“I did not know you would attend! Why did you not write to me?” He heard your question, watching as you took hold of the man’s hand and pulled towards the end table, walking past him without another glance. Aemond’s hold on the hilt of his sword tightened as he followed you and the stranger whom your brother and your father readily and warmly welcomed. Absent was any recognition from your mother— which was not at all surprising. “You did not tell us you will attend!” Your brother greeted in surprise, hugging the man and giving him a clap on the back. “Of course, I would never miss the king’s name day,” He charmingly smiled, and Aemond watched you roll your eyes as if it were something amusing that completely flew over Aemond’s head— he could not even bear to look upon the man’s face as he was certain if he did, he would have to battle with the urge to maim him. Who was he?! 

Throughout the whole night, you were enveloped with merriment and were entertained by the man that Aemond had slipped away form your side, and he was certain that you had not even noticed. He watched from a distance as you spun on the dance floor, laughing carelessly whilst in the arm of another. Aemond looked away, unable to bear such a scene. Jealousy was consuming him, but at the same time, he knew he had no right to feel such emotions, for he was only your knight. And yet, envy gnawed at him— coursing through his veins and making the scar of his eye throb and burn. 

At the height of the party, you excused yourself to have a breath of fresh air; you looked around the hall in search of your knight. You had been trying to capture his gaze the whole night, trying to spot his unique silver hair, but he had been seamlessly in the crowd, denying you to gaze upon his lilac eye. You went towards the farthest balcony alone, wagering to yourself that your knight would somehow find you— that an unknown presence would pull him towards you. It did. 

“I haven’t seen you the whole night,” You stated, staring at the moon at the distant sound of the party filled the quiet night. You had felt him creep up by his rightful place that he had abandoned the past few hours. “How could you? You were distracted,” Aemond answered, tone holding bitterness that he tried not to seep through, but jealousy was an erratic and unbridled emotion that not many could control. You finally turned to look upon your knight, your smile faltering as you saw his overly stoic demeanor, and he had removed the mask you had made especially for him. “You’re not wearing your mask anymore,” you said quietly, a tad disappointed. “I did not feel the need to, princess,” He answered coldly.

You blinked upon the furrow in his brows. “Are you well?” You questioned, the air between you tenser than it was just a few hours before. “Yes,” Ser Aemond answered curtly. “But you’re frowning,” Ser Aemond shook his head, “I am not, princess.” You playfully rolled your eyes and step closer to your knight. “You are, there’s a line between your brows,” You say, reaching up and trying to smoothen the crease on the middle of his face. But as you did, your knight jerked his head away— as if your touch had scorned him— he moved away as if he were disgusted. “I—“ You say and quickly retrieve your hand, your stomach twisting as you find offense in his actions. “I’m sorry,” You finished your sentence, not expecting him to react in such a way. 

Aemond saw the hurt in your eyes, guilt creeping into his bloodstream, but it was overpowered by the jealousy he felt as he had to observe you with the stranger. “Go back to the party, princess,” He said, voice having the same tone of indifference it had during his first days as your sworn protector. “I… I do not understand you,” you said, resting your hand on your abdomen as the twist in your stomach never left. “One moment, you are warm and… and kind and obliging— then the next, you turn cold and detached… why do you do it?” You asked, as much as you hold affection for Ser Aemond, it was hard to overlook his differing treatment. It confuses you further, and you do not know if his sentiments were genuine or an act. Aemond shook his head once more, not wanting to answer your question. 

“Just return to the party, princess— I’m certain he is waiting for you,” He gritted, not able to meet you in the eye. You frowned, noting the bitterness in his voice, a bitterness you had grown to know as you had felt it more often as of late. You turned your gaze upon his gritted jaw, then to his clenched fists. “Are you jealous?” You suddenly asked, his stature not of anger but rather of jealousy. His reactions are quite the same as yours as you felt such emotions. Aemond scoffed, “What kind of question is that?” He asked in ridicule, once again toeing the line of impertinence as he addressed you in such a tone. 

“A simple one. Are you jealous?” You asked once more, curious as well if that was the emotion he felt and as to why he felt it and what it meant if he were actually jealous. “I do not know what you speak of, princess.” Aemond gritted, not wanting to admit that you knew the precise emotion he felt. You tried to meet his eye, trying to see if he uttered the truth, but he avoided your gaze. You bit your lip in defeat and embarrassment. “Very well then,” you nodded and walked past him and did as he said and returned to the party but your merriment had gone the moment your knight had left your side. 

“Come, let me escort you to your chambers,” Aemond heard the man say as he linked his arms with yours. He could not believe what he heard and saw— you nodded and let him assist you, bidding your family good night, and they only let you go off with the stranger without question. Even your brother, who was overly protective of you when it came to your suitors, only nodded and bid you goodnight, not even batting an eye as he let the man escort you to your chambers. Aemond wanted to scream— to let out his frustrations at what was happening, at how you, the one who had insisted that she wanted nothing to do with a suitor or the opposite sex, let this man escort you to your room. He tried to listen in to your conversation as he trailed behind you in the halls, but your voices were hushed and could not be understood; it was as if you two spoke a secret language— familiarity between the two of you evident and only twisted the heart of Aemond. 

You paused when you reached your door, smiling at the man. Ser Aemond held his breath as he watched you stand at the tip of your toes and give the man a kiss on the cheek. By gods, this was torture. What had he done to bear witness to such a scene? Aemond was ready to succumb to another dimension of hurt and envy, but before he could fall into a further pit of despair, he heard you speak. “Good night… brother,” You smiled fondly. Ser Aemond caught your eye as you quickly glanced at him before disappearing into your chambers, leaving him dumbfounded. Brother?

The next morning came, and everyone in the keep had a later start on the day except for Aemond, who still tried to piece together what you had said the night before. Borther? You had another brother? How did he not know? None had mentioned him before— he was absent from any other event— he was not even present in any of the portraits in the keep. How, then, could he be your brother!?

“Goo—Good morning, princess,” Aemond stuttered as you exited your chambers. His jealousy had simmered and instead turned into nerves as he did not know where the two of you stood after your conversation last night. “Good morning.” You replied curtly, walking past Ser Aemond, growing accustomed to the usual retaliation and routine of ignorance and silence whenever you and your knight would grow cross with one another. He followed you to the gardens, your usual lonesome place now housed your two brothers who waited for you. “There you are!” Your brother, whose name he was still yet to know, greeted. “I still cannot believe you did not tell us that you were coming! We could have prepared your room!” You greeted your brother as he assisted you to your chair. “Well, in truth, my coming was unplanned— I was only near the capitol as I had to buy supplies, and I thought I should come to the king’s celebration,” Your brother explained as he fought with you with the piece of pastry you were eyeing, smiling at his tease to acquire what you wanted but in the end, he only placed it onto your plate. 

“I actually have to leave— I had just waited for you to wake so I could bid you goodbye.” The smile on your lips quickly disappeared. “But you’ve only just arrived! And we have not seen you in so long— must you truly go already?” You asked, disappointed upon the revelation. “I’m afraid so; they are waiting for me in the Citadel… but I assure you, I shall come once again during winter— that is if your mother allows me to step foot on capitol grounds.” Aemond frowned upon your other brother’s wording— the prince letting out an amused chuckle as he popped a berry into his mouth. “Fine. But if you are not here by the holidays, I’ll have Father send out men to come fetch you, I swear.” You say as you narrow your eyes, and your brother only smiles. “I know, you’ve done it before.” 

Aemond followed as you and the prince bid goodbye to your brother by the gates. Aemond still wondered about what had happened— at how the man he thought was your suitor was your brother and how your brother was not acknowledged by the court. “Ser Aemond,” the prince nodded as he walked past your knight to attend his duties for the day. Aemond swallowed as he heard you sigh, the two of you now left alone and the tenseness in the air had never departed. You and Aemond were once again succumbed to the silence of indifference— one he hoped would be quick to be gone. It was nearing nightfall, the sky alight with the afterglow of the sun, and Aemond could no longer stomach the two of you not speaking. 

Your knight pursed his lips and let out a grieved breath, daring to take hold of your arm and pull you into an alcove of an empty hall. “What is it?” You asked coldly. “I…. I—“ Your knight could not articulate his words— confusion and remorse taking hold of his senses. You stood there for a moment as Ser Aemond could not make out his words, but the confusion in his eye told you all that you needed to know. “Do you recall when I told you when my mother and father did not marry for love?” You questioned, and Ser Aemond only nodded. “Father loved another… and from that love came our half-brother.” You explained the deepest secret your family had to your knight. “He was born a moon before my mother and father married— but his mother had died during his birth. Instead of disregarding his existence, Father placed him in the care of a distant cousin— and the court has been fed the lie that he is our cousin when, in truth, he was our brother.” 

“He is a bastard,” Aemond stated as he recalled all you had said. His words quickly made a frown slip to your face. “He, is my brother. No matter the state of legitimacy.” You said, and Aemond recoiled as he realized not all held the distaste for bastards as he did because not all had the same treatment he had from the bastards in his family. “I’m sorry, princess,” Aemond said in remorse, not even able to meet your gaze. You pursed your lips and rested your back upon the curved wall of the alcove as you assessed Ser Aemond. It should concern you that even though he had offended you, your heart still yearned for him. “I still do not understand you,” you say. “Whenever I think we are venturing towards a sense of normalcy— that we’re getting somewhat closer… you grow cold and distance yourself.” You hated this— you hated to sound as such before Ser Aemond because you knew, at its core, your relationship did not warrant any speck of closeness or anything that resembled intimacy. He was your knight, and you were simply his duty. 

Aemond licked his lips as he had no words to explain why he did such action— well, he did have the words, but he knew he could not utter it. “That is just how I am, princess,” he reasoned, but you sighed and crossed your arms across your chest, looking to your left and momentarily distracting yourself with the view of the afterglow. “I do not believe you.” You say quietly. “You do not have to,” Aemond answered. “So last night… your reaction was not brought forth by jealousy— what was it then?” You questioned, daring to utter the question even though you took the risk of hurting your pride once more. Aemond bit his tongue, having no way out of the conversation. He swallowed thickly, and before he could listen to reason and before his sensibilities could hinder him, he spoke the truth. “It was.” You frowned and wondered if you heard correctly. “Why?” You questioned in disbelief. 

Aemond turned to his right and stared out into the afterglow as well, knowing in himself there was no escape— he knew he must take the risk even if his station and pride would be on the line. “Because… because he took my place.” He said, not having the guts to offer half-truths or a made-up reason to defend his actions. “You had not even noticed my departure, for you were too consumed by his presence,” he mumbled, not able to hinder himself once more. “So you were jealous because you thought he was my suitor, and my attention was on him instead of you…” You trailed, your knight unmoving and providing no validation for your question. “Why would you be jealous?” In truth, you thought he had no care— that he was immune to such emotions, for your affections were certainly unrequited… wasn’t it?

You locked eyes with his unique lilac ones. The silence was palpitating but never uncomfortable. None uttered a word, but each moment you held your sworn protector’s gaze, you found your answer. You let out a shaky breath as you realized Ser Aemond’s gaze mirrored yours— that your emotions were one with his. And with such realizations, words were taken from you, and all you could do was close the damned gap between and take the risk. You stood on the tip of your toes and let your lips be met with your knight’s because you knew what you wanted, and what you wanted was him. Just him. 

[nathaslosthershit]

Trips to See the In-Laws (LS2)

Summary: In order to save his teammate from an interviewer with not so innocent thoughts, Alex has to reveal that his thought-to-be-single friend, Logan, is actually in a long term relationship.

“Alex, Logan, so wonderful to have you both here with me today. Now that we are rapidly approaching the first race of the season, how are you both feeling? How was both your breaks?”

“Well firstly, thank you for having us. It has honestly been crazy. Break has gone by fast and with all the training we’ve been doing, I honestly feel ready to just jump in the car and start back up.” Logan replies.

It was no secret that Logan Sargeant had been training much more during the off season, everyone had seen how much he had changed. The way the interviewer was staring at him though, as if he was their next meal, was making him shift uncomfortably in the seat. 

Alex, being as perceptive as ever, immediately saw the change in Logan’s demeanor. He was confused by it until he saw how the interviewer shifted closer to Logan, eyeing him up and down in a very flirtatious manner. He then chimed in to try and alleviate the tension. “Yeah, busy break but we have been putting in the work and I think we are both ready for this upcoming season.”

“You both look very different from the start of last year. Alex with your hair and Logan has gotten very, very fit.” Dammit, this interviewer really wasn’t going to let it go, Alex thought.

“Um yeah, we are both pretty different looks wise.” Alex weakly responded. What was he supposed to say, the interviewer didn’t exactly ask a question.

“I was in a pretty bad state at the end of last season, both mentally and physically. I worked really hard this off season to improve both of those things and gained 5 kilos. I feel much better now that I am at a more healthy weight and I think it just cements how much more learning and growing I needed last year.” God, how can the interviewer continue to try and eye fuck Logan while he gives such a sincere and vulnerable answer, Alex wonders. He knew he needed to help his teammate and friend in some way, but the idea that came to mind might have some consequences. But surely it was better than the alternative of letting Logan get harassed.

“Well Logan, you took some time to travel a bit since being here in New York” Alex teased.

“Ohhh, where did you go Logan?” the interviewer asked, intrigued at the blush on Logan’s face that had appeared as he picked up on where Alex was trying to go with this.

“Well actually, my girlfriend is originally from New york and still has family that live outside the city so they very kindly invited me to visit them and watch the Superbowl. She wasn’t too happy that I got to see her family while she is stuck in London but also was ecstatic that they clearly like me enough to invite me to visit even when she isn’t with me. It was sweet and such a kind gesture, definitely beats spending that night watching the game in a hotel room alone.”

“Hey, I would have watched with you. You wouldn't have been alone” Alex said, offended.

“Mate, you did not have any actual interest in watching the game.” Logan responded.

“But I still would have kept you company.” 

Before the two could continue their fight, the interviewer bursted out a very aggressively asked “Girlfriend?”

The two were quiet then, not knowing what to say. The interviewer wasn’t looking at Logan like a piece of meat anymore, but now he had to deal with this sudden hard launch of his relationship.

“Uh yeah, I have been in a relationship for a while now. Met my girlfriend when I moved to London. We lived in the same apartment and had moved in around the same time. Insane luck, I guess.” Logan answered, still blushing.

“Leave it to Logan to find the one other American in his apartment complex and immediately start dating her.” Alex teased.

“Hey! It was a coincidence and she is from New York while I’m from Florida, they are practically two different countries.”

“Yeah whatever.” Alex rolled his eyes playfully.

The interviewer, now upset at practically getting rejected, stopped asking questions and just watched as the two Willaims drivers took over the interview, rambling, and teasing each other, till it was time to end it.

The interview had immediately gained popularity once it had been posted. Not many drivers hard launch the way Logan did and while Logan hadn't anticipated that this was how his relationship was found out, he did have to thank Alex for getting him out of that situation.

logansargeant

liked by alex_albon, williamsracing, and 73,355 others

logansargeant My favorite New Yorker 💙

[storiesoflilies]

hiraeth

synopsis: the story of two broken souls trying to heal themselves by finding solace in each other and the mysteries of the universe, until shadows from the past threaten everything. the follow up to metanoia. w.c: 18.5k.

pairings: toji fushiguro x f!reader / satoru gojo x f!reader.

warnings: ANGST! sfw, descriptions of grief, mentions of death, the healing journey, a touch of satosugu vibes. there are fluff and wholesome moments, i promise.

a/n: it’s finally here! just in time for me n my most beloved blorbo’s birthday :3 i hope you all enjoy this story, and that the ending is everything you’ve been hoping for. it’s been so fun returning to this au! @gothsuguru this one’s for you bestie <3

art / art / divider / playlist / ao3

there was a certain comfort to be found in absolute silence.

it was warm, precious, and free from any judgement in a way that nothing else in the world could be. at that time, to be consumed in its invisible, molten core of gold felt wonderful. her mind was free from all the music and the dancing numbers and the scratching of the angels’ quills on their scrolls.

and it was silent when toji fushiguro left her.

so maybe, it was in silence that he would come back to her.

that’s what she wanted to believe.

but it was all nothing but a foolish, hopeless dream of a lover.

she could not recall most of that summer, no matter how hard she tried. it was lost in a haze of salty tears and the smoke of dreamless sleep. but she remembered the dull ache in her bones, the heaviness pressing down on her chest, crushing her cracking, splintering spine into the bed.

she had no fight in her to resist any of it – not anymore.

there wasn’t much she could do but lie there, like ice melting against the salt of her dried tears, seeping into every stitch and loose thread in the sheets.

there wasn’t much of the world left anymore, either.

there was only a white ceiling and the yellowing, dirty bed linens. the steady drip! drip! drip! of the kitchen sink, and the dull smell of a very tired, stale room that she couldn’t even recall ever holding any happiness within its walls.

everything that had once made her who she had already dissipated long ago into the atmosphere, leaving nothing behind but the white noise that filled her ears with the silent screams of angels.

let them.

let them scream, let them cry.

she hated them all.

she hated the green tea she used to drink, and the stupid, big ceramic mugs she had poured it into, and all the numbers and letters that led her here, and vanilla ice cream dripping down, down, down onto the pavement, and shaving razors and–

a violent sob caught in her throat, nearly choking her on her own admission.

that she hated toji fushiguro too.

she didn’t even have to try and solve for any sort of equation to arrive to that answer.

somebody, please help me.

and that was all she remembered of that summer, before her phone lit up with a call.

| Φ |

“i can’t help you if you don’t talk to me.”

| Φ |

the cafe hadn’t changed much at all over the summer.

there was some new artwork done by students at the university hanging on the walls. they were all different sizes and colors, with no particular theme connecting any of them to each other. there was also a new bell hanging above the the entrance door. it was a much louder bell, not at all delicate or mellow like the last one.

she much preferred it that way.

there were too many memories in the old one’s tune.

she was currently staring holes into a piece of art hanging on the wall behind the cash register. it was hard to decipher if there was supposed to be any hidden meaning beneath the seemingly random swirls of red and bold blue brushstrokes of what looked like oil paint to her. no, maybe it was acrylic?

she clicked her tongue, already giving up on trying to guess.

a customer entered the shop, and she was sharply reminded of what her manager had said to her not even an hour ago.

“don’t forget to smile sometimes, yeah?”

they had said it sympathetically – sheepishly, even – because it came from a place of shameful embarrassment of having to even say it in the first place. of course, she knew they meant well, but it was the not so hidden implication of it all that echoed through her head like the memory of the old bell above the door.

she wasn’t who she used to be anymore, and she certainly wasn’t doing very well at all.

and everyone had seemed to notice.

she swallowed down the stone stuck in her throat and quickly went about making the customer’s order, forcing a smile on her face in the hopes it would just make him go away faster. it wasn’t fair to the customer, she knew that, but she couldn’t help how she felt.

any sort of human interaction was just so unbelievably tiresome for her now.

towards the end of the summer, she made the split-second decision to pursue a master’s degree in physics. she didn’t know what else to do, but two things were certain: she couldn’t go back home, and she couldn’t bring herself to find a proper job. her mind was far too numb for either of those things, lost in a fog that weighed down heavy on her entire being. she had no energy to network or put up false pleasantries to build any sort of meaningful connections both in and out of the workplace.

so, when she got the call back from her manager that she could stay on at the cafe, everything seemed to conveniently fall into place. no one could argue with what she was doing. she was furthering her education and saving more money by taking the course part-time.

and that was exactly what she wanted – to be bothered as little as possible.

deep breath in…

as she handed the customer his order in a pale-green styrofoam cup.

and out.

that was how she got through every interaction, day after day.

because if she could survive for long enough, then maybe – just maybe – she could begin to claw her way out of the crumbling black hole of obsidian she was buried under.

she hoped.

the doorbell rang out loudly.

she looked up sharply, and put on the best smile that she could muster, so much that her cheeks almost hurt.

it was the owner of the shop.

what– why are they here?

and then, a star walked in.

she sucked in a breath.

no, it was just a boy. a boy who looked like a star that had just fallen down from the heavens. all blues and pearly, fluffy hair and teeth shining in the brightest, most perfect smile she had ever seen in her whole life. he must have been born from a blue nebula, she thought, because he was so wonderfully rare, unlike anything or anybody else at all.

she could have sworn she heard the sound of a quill tapping against the side of an ink pot.

| Φ |

“you don’t have share anything you don’t want to. just say whatever feels right for you.”

| Φ |

the boy’s name was satoru gojo, and he was the owner’s nephew.

“he’s just transferred from a university in tokyo,” they’d said, with a proud, hushed reverence in their voice when they whispered the last word.

she could only nod along silently, pretending to be impressed, while all she was really thinking was why on earth he would transfer from a probably prestigious university to come here of all places.

it didn’t really matter; satoru was here now.

and he was her new colleague.

the extra interactions she had to handle on a daily basis were absolutely bone wearying. teaching him how to use the coffee machine, where all the ingredients and cleaning supplies were kept, and how to lock up the cafe for the night. it was all just too much; she hadn’t signed up for any of this. the next two years were supposed to be as easy as they possibly could be.

but more than anything, it was satoru and his irritatingly perky attitude that got on her nerves the most.

it wasn’t fair to him at all, and she knew it, but she couldn’t help the nagging, grating annoyance he made her feel. his chirpy voice was like nails on a chalkboard, scraping away at her already thin patience. and then there was him, with his stupidly good looks that made every customer that came in through the door do a double take.

more than that, it was the way satoru had the gall to pretend he didn’t enjoy it – when he obviously did.

no, that wasn’t the worst thing of all.

it was the way that satoru persistently attempted to get to know her. it confused her to no end, haphazardly cutting through the endless haze of brain fog, because she couldn’t understand for the life of her why someone like him would ever want to know someone like her.

“so,” he began one day, the autumn sunset filtering through the window. “you study physics too?”

too?

her manager must have been running their mouth, again.

she cleared her throat, putting down the damp cloth she’d been using to clean the cash register. “yeah, uh– you too, huh?”

satoru smiled that signature lopsided smile of his. “second year.”

when she only nodded silently, picking up her cloth again to silently signal she wasn’t interested in continuing conversation, he pressed on anyways. “yeah, i heard you’re doing your master’s now too. you must be really enjoying it.”

the last part was more of a question than a statement to her.

“sure,” she replied flatly, perhaps even snappily, and satoru’s smile faltered slightly.

a strange pang of guilt struck her that only got worse as the silence between them stretched on uncomfortably. she squirmed in her seat, aggressively rubbing her cloth between every nook and cranny of the register, while satoru busied himself cleaning the coffee machine, uncharacteristically quiet.

finally, she couldn’t stand the awkwardness anymore, and put down her cloth with a sigh as she swiveled in her seat to face him.

“so, are you enjoying it?” she asked quietly, her gaze dropping to the dried skin around her cuticles.

“sorry, what?”

“are you enjoying your course?”

“oh, yeah i am, actually,” he replied, a twinkle in his cerulean eyes as he laughed heartily. she suddenly felt quite warm. “i’m quite the genius.”

“oh, really?”

from then on, he wouldn’t – or, rather he couldn’t – shut up about it. it was like the floodgates had opened, and he went on about anything and everything that sprang to his mind. how he was planning on solving all the unknown theories of the universe, like he was planning on plucking the answers straight from the stars. the more she listened to him, watching the way his lips moved animatedly, the more she believed that if anybody could do it, it was him.

strangely enough, she found that she actually liked listening to satoru gojo talk.

but what struck her the most was how he was like her – and more. she knew that if he wanted to become one of the greats, he would.

if he wasn’t already, that is.

for the first time in what felt like years, she felt her lips curve into a genuine smile.

| Φ |

“it’s okay to cry. you’re really brave for coming here, and i know it’s not easy taking this first step.”

| Φ |

they started studying together at the cafe during the quiet afternoons that stretched into the evenings.

there was the air of familiarity to it all, the same aura of memories she had of doing the same thing not so long ago with a vastly different boy. it brought an unbearably searing heat of anxiety straight to her stomach. she tried her best to shove those feelings deep down into a pit of pebbles, zoning out often and long enough that satoru would frantically wave his palm in front of her eyes.

“you’re doing it again,” he said, his head tilted, a heavy hardback textbook split open in his lap.

she blinked once, shook her head a little, and lightly tapped her cheek twice. “sorry,” she mumbled, then took a few sips from her mug of bitter black coffee, which had long since gone cold.

green tea was something she hasn’t touched since, well, that day.

satoru looked at her for a moment too long, a strange look crossing his face that she couldn’t decipher, before he buried his nose back in the book on his lap.

the sun had set quite some time ago, and the beginning of winter was already making the days so much shorter. only the warm glow of pale orange lamps filled the cafe, bathing anyone inside in a warm, cozy glow. there were no customers at the moment, much to her relief, probably because it was still the beginning of the semester and the students weren’t in cramming mode just yet.

another hot bubble of anxiety churned in her stomach, and she fought to keep from wincing as her heart started to race.

“so, how are you finding that book?” she blurted out, trying to distract herself.

satoru hummed thoughtfully. “it’s good, thanks for letting me borrow it. you’ve got good taste.”

she snorted, though it was somewhat strained, forced. “hah! well, thank you, i suppose.”

he looked up at her again, and she felt herself shrink just a little. she could never get used to his eyes no matter how hard she tried. they were unlike anything she had ever seen before, and the longer she stared into them, the more it felt like they multiplied into six eyes. it felt like he could see right through her and rummage through the mess of broken heartstrings and glass inside her, and know everything that had ever happened to her – and everything that ever would.

was he an angel?

maybe he was the one who had been trying to solve her equation this whole time.

she almost laughed at that.

don’t be ridiculous.

“you’re too good at this, you know?” satoru suddenly stated, closing the book over with one of his fingers wedged between the pages he had been reading.

she frowned. “what do you mean? physics?”

“yeah. you’re like me, you have a gift for all this. even when you don’t really care about it, you’re still good at it.”

she picked the edge of her finger. “i-uh, wait, what do you mean i don’t care about it anymore? i obviously do. i’m doing a masters for fuck’s sake.”

she didn’t know why she felt the need to lie about it or why she suddenly felt so defensive.

he was hitting a nerve, and he knew it.

satoru gave her a look, a smug smirk on his lips. “no, you don’t.”

“i do!”

“no. you don’t.”

“yes actually, i do.”

“you’re lying.”

“no, i’m not! why would i lie?”

“i dunno, you tell me.”

damn you, satoru gojo.

she bit her lip to stop it from wobbling. satoru’s face crumbled like tumbling stones, and his book dropped to the floor with a loud bang.

“hey, hey,” he rushed, standing up and nearly knocking his chair over behind him. “hey, i’m sorry. i didn’t mean- fuck! i’m so sorry.”

the delicate skin of her lip throbbed from how hard she was biting it, and she was sure it would bruise by tomorrow morning. she swallowed thickly, avoiding satoru and those stupid, all-seeing eyes of his.

“it’s fine,” she muttered, hoping the tears gathering in the corner of her eye wouldn’t spill in front of him. “i-uh, let’s just get ready to close, okay?”

satoru frowned, rubbing the back of his neck like he wasn’t sure what exactly he wanted to do.

in the end, he said nothing at all.

they quietly packed up their things, locked the door, and the bell sang them a sad goodbye tune as they walked their separate ways into the night.

| Φ |

“so, your friend told you to come here?”

“i-uh, more like made me. sorry.”

| Φ |

being alone wasn’t so unbearable for her anymore.

but it still wasn’t good.

she’d moved out of the two-bedroom apartment she’d shared with her old roommate soon after starting her master's. there was no point in paying for an extra room, and she certainly didn’t feel like living in close quarters with another human being. so, she moved into a studio apartment in the building next door.

it was… decent.

perfectly adequate, really. there was no peeling walls or mold anywhere, and it didn’t drain too much of her energy to keep it all somewhat clean. in the beginning, the smaller space was oddly comforting. she felt secure, like a little mouse in a tin box.

safer.

snugly enclosed within the walls of a home that hadn’t been tainted by old memories.

although, she still didn’t have much energy to cook. there had been too many things she'd wasted money on, too many things that had gone out of date that she had the unpleasant task of cleaning up before moving out. the employees at the 7-eleven across from the cafe had grown embarrassingly familiar with her as she bought cup after cup of instant ramen for her dinner every night for weeks during those first weeks after moving in.

one night, an employee – an older lady with obviously nothing better to do –finally said to her, “you know, there are fresh bento boxes on sale at the end of the day. it’s healthier than… this.”

she’d just sniffed at the woman, pushing her cup forward with a defiant jut of her chin. the lady had sighed, shaking her head as she scanned the noodles. when she arrived home, she took her shoes off and threw her keys onto the kitchen counter. she flicked the kettle on and walked over to her bed to change out of her clothes.

and that was when she saw it.

her reflection in the mirror.

god, she didn’t realize just how awful she looked. her skin was horrible, her eyes tired and sullen, probably from living off a diet of instant noodles with little to no water. she didn’t know why, but the sight shocked her to the core.

she knew she wasn’t doing well.

but, she just didn’t think she looked that tired.

from that night on, she bought the bento boxes on sale every night. the employee never bothered her again after that, just gave her a smug smile that told her everything she needed to know. the changes in her were small, barely noticeable, but it felt like a step in the right direction.

she hated to admit that the lady had been right.

but still, it wasnt a complete fix.

so here she was, quietly chewing on a bite of peppered beef and rice, doing her best to stifle her sobs as music played from the radio in the background.

she hadn’t meant to get so emotional, but it had gotten too overwhelming for her to handle. satoru and all his damn questions – why did this random boy from who knows where in the world manage to get under her skin so much? she barely even knew him at all. the only two things that tied them together was that cafe and physics, and even that was fragile at best.

it was almost like at the start with…

no.

she couldn’t even say his name in her head.

it was all absolutely pathetic – she was pathetic.

“even if you don’t really care about it, you’re still good at it.”

is that what her life was going to be from now on? living a lie? pretending that she cared about whatever it was she was doing, while on the inside, she was still falling down that infinite green hole the boy with a perfect scar on his lip had pushed her into.

she sniffled, tossing the now empty box into the bin.

when would it all end?

she just wanted to stop feeling so hopeless all the time. she wanted to be happy again, to hear the numbers and angels singing to her like they used to, to feel and be how she once was.

but everything was still so quiet.

and probably would be for a long time.

that was why being here, in her tiny box of a house, still felt like no home at all.

| Φ |

“do you want to start from the beginning?”

“not really, but sure.”

| Φ |

the next day, when she arrived at the cafe, satoru was already there waiting for her.

and he was so obviously nervous that it set her teeth on edge.

from the moment she caught sight of him from outside the window, she could tell something was off. he was behind the counter, his hands a blur as he poured coffee and punched the buttons on the cash register to hand customers their change. satoru must have been keeping an eye out for her, because the moment he spotted her through the glass, he froze.

a snowy deer caught in the headlights.

then, he gave her what was probably the most awkward, jerky wave she had ever recieved.

right up until she walked behind the counter to stand beside him, he was a jittery mess, his foot tapping incessantly as he waited for the two girls hovering in front the cash register to finish deciding what they wanted to have.

“hey!” he greeted, far too cheerily. his voice was a little high-pitched, a crack in it like chipped porcelain.

she blinked twice, slowly, as she tied a beige apron around her waist. “hi.”

one of the girls at the counter cleared her throat, clearly unimpressed that nobody was paying attention to them. satoru snapped back into reality, mumbled a half-hearted apology, and she hurriedly got started on making their drinks. meanwhile, satoru fumbled with the coins as one of the girls dropped them into his open palm.

this was all so unlike him.

he was always so smooth and confident, annoyingly so.

it felt almost wrong to see him like this.

but they continued in a fragile, comfortable silence, serving customers and cleaning up tables after they left. when it was golden hour and the shop was somewhat empty, satoru finally let out a great big breath, like he had been holding it in the whole time.

“sheesh!” he exclaimed, stretching his legs, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet. “that was so busy. how did you used to do this all by yourself?”

she gave him an amused look. “well, it wasn’t this busy a year ago. it’s gotten much more popular.”

satoru grinned, but it was tight, forced. “really? must be because of you and your great service.”

she didn’t know what to say, but she snorted, somewhat amused.

“hey, so uh… about last night,” he started, already stumbling over his words, but she quickly held up a hand to stop him.

“it’s all good, satoru,” she said firmly, trying her hardest to still be gentle. “i didn’t mean to get so emotional, so i’m sorry about that.”

he stared at her for a heartbeat longer, and she felt a strange flutter in her chest. she couldn’t stand the feeling, and got right back to adding more pink mooncakes to the clear display box at the counter. this time, it was her turn to keep an eye on him. satoru was breathing rapidly, his chest puffing and falling quickly, a peach-pink blush dusting the tips of his ears.

he looked positively miserable.

like he was absolutely bursting to say something but was holding back.

she bit her lip. “are you okay?”

satoru froze, his hand pausing from refilling the jar for the lids for the takeaway cups.

“yeah, i just-” he swallowed thickly, not quite looking at her. “i’m really sorry about yesterday.”

“is that all? i promise you, satoru, it’s all good.”

satoru fidgeted, his fingers rapidly tapping against a white lid. for a moment, neither of them moved, the low hum of a handful of customers conversing filling the air. a cup clinked loudly against a saucer, shattering the tension between them, and he inhaled sharply.

“i’m sorry if i push you too much,” satoru said softly, like he wasn’t sure whether he should even say it at all. “i don’t mean to.”

a stab of guilt pierced her heart.

it would be a lie to say that he hadn’t been pushing her out of her comfort zone. for the last few months, he had been nothing but persistently nice to her. anytime they crossed paths on campus, he always smiled and waved, pulling her into the orbit of his blue brightness, no matter how hard she tried to avoid it. at first, she was convinced that he would get bored of her quickly, that he would find more interesting company to keep than hers.

so, she tried to ignore it when she could.

but satoru never let up, not even a bit.

when she wouldn’t wave back, turning her back instead, there would be a tap on her left shoulder, and satoru would pop out from her right, spooking her with a laugh that made it seem like he knew exactly what she was up to.

and he didn’t care or seem to mind.

whenever she was clearly making no move to initiate a conversation, he always did it for her.

and he’d always ask her how she was.

how her day had been, or if she’d slept well the night before whenever they worked a morning shift together. during their quiet study sessions at the cafe, he’d always ask her how her course was going. at first, she thought satoru was just trying to fill the silence, that he was restless – too full of energy that he didn’t know what to do with. but now, she saw that she had been wrong the whole time.

she’d been blinded by his eccentricity and her own self-wallowing to notice it before.

that satoru gojo had a big heart.

and for some reason, he genuinely cared about her. it might not have been hard to notice that she wasn’t okay, but he had – and had tried to fix it. little by little, their study sessions and conversations were slowly pulling her back to the version of herself she thought she would never get back.

“you weren’t… pushing me,” she said slowly.

satoru gave her a pointed look. “yes i was. you know i was, especially last night.”

“okay,” she laughed a little, and a small smile appeared on his face. “maybe just a little.”

they both spared a glance at each other and broke into a nervous fit of laughter. for a moment, it all seemed normal, but then their smiles fades, and the silence crept back in like a parasite, with the light in satoru’s eyes dying like a smothered candle.

“well, i promise not to bother you half as much anymore,” he huffed playfully, though his eyes shifted away from her face.

she chewed the inside of her cheek.

“i… don’t want that.”

satoru looked back up at her sharply.

“you don’t?”

“i just- i’m not… it’s hard for me to feel good about things anymore.”

but being around you has been the only good thing for me. you’re the only person who makes me feel even a little like how i used to.

she couldn’t bring herself to say that, though.

because, whether or not satoru had meant to push her so much didn’t matter anymore. she had now realized, with a particularly harsh slap of reality, how much she had needed it. her changes had been so small and gradual that she hadn’t even noticed them herself. she couldn’t even remember the day when she finally didn’t dread leaving the house anymore, only that it had just happened.

and the boy made from blue starlight had been a huge part of making that happen.

satoru was like an icicle suspended over the edge of a cliff. was it concern, or maybe even shock on his face? she clenched her fists, nails digging into her skin. she didn’t know what she would do if he decided she was just too much for him, too heavy a burden that he hadn’t signed up to carry. if satoru decided to let go and fall, she didn’t know what she would do. she’d be all alone again if he left, and she didn’t think she could survive it this time.

please, i’m sorry. i’ll be better, i promise. just hang in there and wait for me a little longer.

but then, slowly, satoru flashed her that feather-soft smile he had given her the first time she finally waved back at him. it was softer, different to the way he usually smiled, like the notion meant so much more to him than she realized.

and she felt like everything might finally start to be okay.

| Φ |

“do you regret letting the things that happened to you in the past hurt her too?”

“of course i do, that’s why i’m here. i’m fucking broken, and i need help.”

| Φ |

the streets were dusted with a light frosting of snow.

there wasn’t much of it at all, really. it was hardly deep enough to make a snowball from, but it was enough to blanket everything in a sea of powdery whiteness. a cold drop of water dripped from a streetlight straight onto her nose, and she shivered profusely from the shock of it, pulling her itchy woolen scarf tighter around her neck.

there were faint tracks in the snow leading up to the cafe, and she guessed they probably belonged to satoru.

they had both been tasked with decorating the cafe with a little festive cheer on this crisp sunday morning. satoru had groaned about it, complaining that he would do anything but that on his day off. he only begrudgingly agreed to it after being bribed with unlimited access to the seasonal sweet treats.

and only if she helped him too.

so, that was how she had also been dragged into it on her day off.

she pushed open the door, scraping her damp boots against the entrance mat as warmth seeped into her bones. satoru had actually remember to turn the heating on, and her heart swelled with gratitude.

however, her good feelings were quite short lived.

“satoru,” she hissed. “what the fuck?”

the place was in absolute disarray.

tangled lights were strung about randomly, baubles of various shapes and colors rolled haphazardly across the floor, and the branches of the fake christmas tree were decidedly not attached where they were supposed to be. satoru was lazing at the counter, completely engrossed in his textbook, not even sparing her a glance as he deadpanned.

“what? i took everything out of the boxes like you told me to.”

“ugh! not like this, and you know it! seriously, it looks like you just dumped everything out onto the floor and just left it.”

his humorous snort told her that was exactly what he did.

it was painfully obvious that satoru gojo absolutely did not like christmas.

as soon as december hit, satoru became quite restrained, even dejected. he wasn’t up for doing much at all, except sitting around and reading her old textbooks. whenever someone asked if he had any plans for the holidays, he would just say “no,” in a way that completely shut down the conversation. if he overheard customers discussing their festive plans for too long, he would zone out, like he was lost somewhere far away from here.

she strode toward him, making sure to stomp her feet a little. satoru never bothered to look up at her, so he didn’t see when she picked up a plastic candy cane and threw it at his head.

“ow! seriously?”

“help me. now.”

letting out an exaggerated groan, satoru slammed the book shut with a loud slap and slowly – very slowly – slid off his chair.

it took several hours of hard work, but they eventually managed to turn the cafe into a mini wonderland. dainty red bows and lights were tastefully placed around, gold and silver tinsel glinted playfully in the sunlight, and the tree in the center of the tables was adorned with emerald and blue baubles.

“what do you think, satoru?”

but he was hardly paying any attention.

“sure, looks fine.”

in fact, satoru looked like something was crawling painfully beneath his perfect skin. he seemed ready to bolt outside without saying another word to her.

“are you alright?” she asked carefully, setting down a pretty green bauble she had been holding.

he looked up at her blankly. “yeah, i just don’t like all…” he gestured around him. “this.”

“not a festive person?”

“not really.”

“oh, okay.”

“it’s not for everyone sometimes, you know?”

“well, yeah… sure.”

“and it’s so much fuss for just one day.”

“mhm.”

“i hope you don’t think i’m like… i don’t know, a grinch or something.”

“i don’t think you’re a grinch, satoru.”

she tried not to notice how he shivered when she said his name.

“good, because i’m not. i don’t actually want someone else being miserable too.”

“what do you mean too?”

at this, satoru fell silent, like he’d said too much, revealed something she wasn’t supposed to know. they were quiet for a while, mostly because she didn’t know what to say, and satoru seemed quite lost in a place she wasn’t sure she wanted to follow him into. then, he flashed her that signature smile of is, his teeth glinting, and for the first time, she felt like she was seeing it for what it really was all along.

a defense mechanism.

for everyone to stay away, to not get too near him. to be blinded by his beauty and not ask too many questions.

“well, looks like we’re all done here!” he exclaimed quickly, clapping his hands together with a flourish. “wanna go get something sweet?”

satoru didn’t wait for her to answer.

before she knew it, he’d shoved his dark beanie over his snowy hair, and was bounding out of the shop. she watched him briefly through the window, rubbing his hands together, his breath coming out in little wispy puffs. he caught her looking and motioned with his head for her to come on.

she sighed, switching off the heating and locking up behind her.

“you know,” she said, not missing the way he winced. “you can always talk to me, right?”

satoru seemed to think about this for a moment before shaking his head and replying with a far too-cheerful, “of course! now, let’s go.”

the boy was hiding something in his galaxy of cerulean stars.

but then again, so was she.

| Φ |

“what was it like being with her?”

“it was peaceful and she was so beautiful, and god, so smart. like, she could discover something that would change the world, you know?… fuck!”

| Φ |

it was christmas eve.

she was watching the snow falling outside, holding a mug of coffee between her palms. the radio station, with its faint static buzz muffling the words, was the sort that lonely people listened to in movies. the host was chatting away in between songs like they didn’t think anybody was listening, probably assuming that everyone was being festive with their families, and not tuning in to some random station.

i’m listening, though. i’m here.

“it’s a lovely, quiet night, isn’t it? some people hate the quiet, though. like there’s something wrong with it.”

she’d pretended that she absolutely had to work over the holidays to avoid going home, and she didn’t regret it one bit. this was all somewhat… nice, actually. her mind was mostly quiet, focused on the coffee and the radio and the snow falling delicately to the ground below.

she took a sip from her mug, a pleasant, tingling burn on her tongue. there was some truth in that sentiment, she mused.

“but i think that it’s only when things are quiet and still, that you can find out a lot about yourself!”

well, she wasn’t so sure if she had discovered anything new about herself other than pain.

ring! ring! ring!

she nearly spilled her coffee all over her lap.

it was satoru.

for some reason, he hadn’t gone back home either. she hadn’t pressed him on why he didn’t, probably because he wouldn’t have told her the truth anyway, or brush her off with a half-hearted joke instead of a real answer.

slowly, she reached for her phone. “hello?”

it was quiet.

too quiet.

and then, the barest sound of what might have been a sniffle.

“hi,” satoru greeted, his voice filled with broken glass.

and it was like all the light and happiness in the world had gone. her eyes became glossy. he sounded familiar, only because she knew that she had once sounded like that too. she could recognize the sound of a person who had lost everything, and was barely clinging onto this plane of existence.

“what are you doing?” he whispered.

she stifled a sob. “nothing really, you?”

“same.”

there was a gust of wind outside, sending the snow dancing in a large, swooping whirlpool.

“can i, uh-” he swallowed quite audibly. “can i see you?”

she didn’t miss a beat. “sure.”

“okay, right. i’ll see you in a bit.”

her screen went black as satoru ended the call, and she tapped her cheek three times just to make sure she wasn’t dreaming. when she realized that she definitely wasn’t, she scrambled up from her warm spot on the sofa, picking up all the random clothes off the floor and shoving them into drawers just for the time being. she was overthinking everything, every little mess, and what satoru would think when he saw her apartment.

should she give the counter a wipe?

was there maybe a smell about?

knock! knock! knock!

there was no time to think about all that.

how had he gotten here so quickly?

she breathed out shakily, wiping her forehead as she hesitantly opened the door.

and there he was with his head bowed low.

there were plenty of snowflakes clinging stubbornly onto his beanie and coat, and she guessed that he must have been outside for a while. when she looked closed at him, she realized with a start that he was wearing his pyjamas – washed-out, grey sweatpants paired with a shirt with a faded superman logo on it. it might have been funny, but when satoru looked up at her, his eyes were rimmed with bright red crescent moons.

she didn’t need to guess that he had been crying.

“hi,” he said softly, his voice cracking like an old mirror.

“hey, come in,” she replied, stepping aside to let him in.

satoru shivered as he stepped over the threshold of her apartment, pausing to puff hot breaths into his hands. she offered him a tea, asking if he wanted it heavy on the sugar, which he shyly accepted. she watched as he took off his boots at the door, expensive black leather dripping with icy sludge, and took a good, long look all around her apartment.

the radio crackled softly, and satoru only seemed to notice it existed then. “huh, you don’t like t.v or something?” he quipped sadly, hardly carrying any bite in his words at all.

“i can’t be bothered getting one,” she admitted with an awkward smile, stirring the teabag in his mug.

satoru hummed and moved to sit on the sofa, sinking into the cushion like he wanted to just melt into a puddle. he rested his neck against the back, long fingers clasping and flexing like he didn’t know what to do with them. she handed him his tea, and then settled on the other end of the sofa, tucking her legs beneath her, and making a conscious effort not to sit too close to him.

for a while, they both didn’t say anything.

the host on the radio was talking again between songs, their voice soft and airy like the snow falling just outside. the next song slowly faded into life, a familiar wistful version of ‘have yourself a merry little christmas’ filling the quiet room. satoru was just staring at the ceiling, the faintest tremor in his hands as he lifted his mug to sip his tea. she didn’t say a word about it, letting herself zone out as she stared at the loose threads in the carpet.

“sorry, i don’t usually do this,” he finally said. “barge in like this, i mean.”

she blinked, and gave him a small smile of reassurance. “it’s okay, i wasn’t doing anything anyways.”

“oh, okay. you didn’t feel like going back home?”

“i could ask you the same thing.”

satoru swallowed, his throat bobbing up and down. then, his shoulders slumped, and his head fell forward in a silent surrender.

she held in a breath.

the angel’s were reaching a key moment in solving their formula, she could feel it in her bones, in her soul. she could hear them and their quills, motions quick and decisive, the noise slowly building like pressure inside a closed vessel.

“his name was suguru.”

the name was a stone falling off the edge of a waterfall, crashing against stone and water and air, and here it finally was – in this tiny, unremarkable apartment that didn’t feel like it was nearly good enough to host such an incredible moment.

it all felt inevitable, really. that she was supposed to be here, in this moment, and that everything in her life had happened just to bring her here. how she fallen in love with a quiet boy with green eyes, and how he had left her. how she nearly faded out of existence, only to be pulled back by a call to work where it all began. how her and satoru met, and how their lives had become so beautifully intertwined.

it was like newton’s second law of motion.

every force that had ever acted on her, every event she had collided into, was all to propel her straight into this moment.

“he was my best friend since middle school, and when i tell you we did everything together, we did fucking everything together.”

satoru paused for a moment, pulling his phone out from his pocket and rapidly tapping and scrolling as he searched for something. when he seemingly found it, he carefully handed his phone to her.

it was a picture of the two of them.

she couldn’t help but smile. satoru was all scruff and awkward teenage smiles, much too tall for his own good. and suguru was… beautiful, really. he was everything his best friend wasn’t – composed and regal, with long, dark hair that looked like it had been dipped in black ink. his eyes were a warm, honeyed chocolate, and she didn’t need to have known him to tell that suguru was kind. the quiet, dependable sort. the kind of person you knew would never leave you behind.

“when we graduated, we even decided to study physics together at uni in tokyo. i mean, i genuinely didn’t have a life without him. but it was like, no matter what happened, as long as suguru was there, it would all be okay.”

tears slipped from his eyes, and he bowed his head low, almost dropping between his knees.

“he died a year ago today.”

oh.

oh, god.

“i thought it was a joke, you know? when i got the call from his parents. i mean, seriously? he’d just gone to visit our old school to help out with some stupid fucking basketball tournament the kids were doing. nothing bad was supposed to happen.”

satoru become incredibly quiet, trapped in a fog of lost memories.

“he’d asked me to go with him,” he admitted, his words dripping in shame. “but i didn’t want to.”

she could hear the unspoken words he wanted to say hovering in the air like a ghost, like the angels whittling away at their little equations.

i should have been there.

“the police said the crossroads were all slippery because of the ice, and that suguru fell over.”

i might have saved him.

“the driver wasn’t even looking properly, but he was going way too fucking fast anyways.”

he could still be alive.

“and yeah, i know it’s so pathetic. i can’t even stay in the same city that he died in. it was just too much for me to handle. that’s why i transferred here, actually, because it just wasn’t the same without him.”

it’s all my fault.

she didn’t know what else to say other than, “i get it.”

because she really did.

her and satoru gojo were one and the same, she knew that now. they might have once been two different variables in the same equation, but now the angels had proven them to be equal to each other, melding them into one and solving for the same outcome.

“you know, you’re the only person who hasn’t tried to lie to me about it,” he mumbled, partly to himself, his fingers tight around his mug. “it never gets easier, no matter how much time passes.”

“i agree. you just get better at carrying it while you try to live on.”

satoru finally spared a glance at her, his pale eyes searching her face, as if he was beginning to realize and understand the person who shared atoms with his soul. that everything had changed for them now, and there was no going back in time.

“there’s a page missing in your book, did you know that?” he said carefully, gently, like it might break her.

“huh- what? no. what are you on about?”

“the one you gave me. i had to look the page up online to find out what it’s about.”

“okay… and?”

“well, why would you rip out a page on relativity?”

oh.

she was flooded with memories she didn’t want to remember. if she looked over satoru’s shoulder, she could almost swear she saw a mirage of a certain dark-haired boy looking at her with a resigned expression, like even the ghost of his past didn’t want to be here. she couldn’t remember even doing it, but she must have torn that page out sometime during the summer. satoru clearly noticed the look on her face, must have seen that familiar, haunted look, and realized he’d unknown touched another nerve.

“you want to tell me about it?” he asked softly.

she looked up at him through lashes heavy with tears, while the ghost’s hazy green eyes pierced into her, silently begging for release, for her to not let him continue to haunt her.

“i will, i promise.”

she blinked, wiping her blurry eyes, and the vision was gone.

“but tell me more about suguru.”

| Φ |

“it sounds like you really did love her.”

“i did, i still do. she was it for me.”

| Φ |

on christmas morning, after satoru had spent the night on her sofa, she told him everything about toji fushiguro.

it was the first time she had said his name aloud after so long, like coaxing death back to where it belonged beyond the veil, and breathing life back into the boy with dark hair and everything that had happened to her. it had been much easier to have pretended that toji was actually dead this whole time.

well, he could have been.

after all, she had no way of knowing, but it was an unhealthy coping mechanism, and she knew it. she couldn’t dare do it anymore either, not when satoru was sitting there right across from her having actually lost his person forever.

so, she didn’t hide a thing.

she told him how it all started. how they fell in love, and all the things that happened in between. the green tea, teaching him about her numbers and stars and the summer of vanilla ice cream. for some reason, she felt sheepish at revealing the trauma that had happened to toji when he was a child, but she had to do it. it was the catalyst for why he had just up and left, and none of it would have made sense to satoru.

much like when she had listened to him the night before, he hadn’t said a word the entire time she spoke. but she knew satoru was listening. in fact, he was completely immersed in her story. like he could feel everything she could. he smiled at the happy parts, even laughed, his expression only turning twisted and sour at the end of it – like her anger and pain was his to bear too.

it made her feel much less alone in all of it.

“i hate him,” she said when she finished, her voice sharper than a knife’s edge, dripping with green, green venom.

but he was looking at her like he didn’t believe that for a second.

she didn’t even know she was shivering until satoru got up and draped a blanket over her shoulders, gently prying the mug that she had been gripping tightly. he looked down at her so kindly it made her chest tighten, an encouraging smile curling his baby-pink lips upwards like it was the only thing holding all her pieces together.

there was something… changed about him.

even with his fluffy hair, a messy pile of snow and stardust, there was something a little more airy and less burdened about him. his shoulders were more pulled back, not slouched like before, which she hadn’t even really noticed he had been doing until now.

“you got any food?” satoru asked suddenly, striding confidently over to her fridge and opening it.

she frowned. “for breakfast?”

“no, i mean for dinner. we have to have some kind of feast don’t we?”

“really? now you want to be festive?”

satoru lazily stretched his back, the skin of his waist peeking out. “festivity is subjective. besides, we just so happen to be celebrating on a day everyone else is.”

“uh huh, and what are we celebrating exactly?”

“well, us.”

he said it like it was totally obvious.

“tell you what, i’ll go out to the store and get us stuff for tonight,” he said firmly, already putting his coat and beanie on. “please tell me you have pots and pans we can use.”

she deadpanned. “yes.”

“hey, i’m only asking because i’m not the one who goes into a 7-eleven every night for dinner.”

she threw a pillow in his direction, but he was already out the door before it could land anywhere near him. sighing, she rubbed her still-tired eyes and glanced around the apartment. whatever satoru was planning for later, it wouldn’t do to have the place messy. she mopped the floors properly and gave the kitchen a good clean, scrubbing all the pots and pans that had been sitting unused in the cabinets since she moved in.

by the time satoru came back with several white plastic bags of groceries, the apartment was spotless and ready for whatever mess was about to unfold in the kitchen.

“you certainly don’t skimp out,” she remarked, eyeing the bags and their contents as he dumped them out onto the counter.

satoru only laughed, rolling up his sleeves and washing his hands. “i’m rich. so, no.”

“pft! well, thanks for all this.”

together, they started prepping for their feast, deciding to make oden with all the fresh vegetables that satoru had bought. soon enough, a wonderfully savory, wholesome scent filled the apartment. she assembled the table while satoru stirred the pot, putting together the sides, the radio merrily playing christmas tunes on and on. when they finally sat down to eat, when she took the first bite of her stew, she almost cried.

she hadn’t realized just how much she had missed this – taking care of her body, cooking something nutritious and homemade. maybe that was why her apartment didn’t feel like home.

how could it be? she had never even made a home-cooked meal in it.

she decided to remedy that from that moment on.

as the evening wore on, they ended up back on the sofa together. a blanket was draped over their legs, a dip between them filled with all the sweets satoru had brought over. the radio switched between more mellow tunes and cheerful ones, and that same host from last night was on again.

but she wasn’t listening in this time.

her and satoru were completely engrossed in one another, talking about what had drawn them to physics in the first place, and about all the stars and planets they wish they could see one day. she felt something warm kindling in her chest. maybe it was the atoms of herself coming back together, little by little. she wasn’t sure, but it felt like a flicker of something familiar.

it wasn’t happiness, not yet.

but as satoru tore a piece of red bean mochi in half, offering her one part with that stellar grin on his face, she thought it might just get there.

| Φ |

“i hope you had a happy new years- ah! yes, of course, it was your birthday as well! how was it?”

“yeah, alright, thanks. was just a quiet night in for me.”

| Φ |

the rest of the school year passed by in a hazy kaleidoscope of colours.

it certainly wasn’t rosy, but it was satoru and her, and all the colors that made him.

mostly, he was dripping in hues of red.

vibrant and lusciously full of life, satoru exuded a sort of confidence that made her want to grit her teeth. she was jealous of him when he was like this – a glorious star of red that burned bright and hot. she wished she could put up her own veil of red to the world, something gushing with so much vitality and mirth that nobody could ever guess she was green with sadness. but it was all a front, a distraction to hide what he was feeling deep down.

because above all, satoru was blue.

she knew it had everything to do with suguru. he would withdraw from the world, hiding away in his bedroom for days. she'd knock on his door, and satoru would answer with heavy bags under his eyes and a glossy sheen in them. he wouldn’t eat, wouldn’t sleep either – just lie there and stare up at he ceiling like he wanted to float up through the atmosphere and into space.

but the worst was when he was purple.

an infinity that blended his melancholy and beauty. satoru was borderline cruel, even a touch mad, when he was like this. he’d flash everyone a stellar smile, drawing them in while his fangs glinted, enticing them with the sweetest honey they didn’t realize was dangerous until they were trapped in its sticky depths.

she recognized him for what he was in those moments.

something pretty to look at but never, ever to touch.

still, she gradually came to understand all of satoru’s colors the way he understood hers. she learned how to dip a paintbrush in them all and create something different. there were soft, cooler tones for his burning red to sizzle out against, streaks of yellow through his blue to remind him of the light within him.

none of it was perfect.

it was jagged and messy at the best of times, but it was real. eventually, satoru learned to sit there and take the time to paint too, his hands shaking and unsteady, with an indomitable will to fight through it all.

and now, at the beginning of the summer, she knew satoru gojo was healing when he said to her, “come with me.”

she looked up questioningly. “what?”

“come with me,” he repeated casually, not lifting his eyes from his sheet of messily scrawled calculations. “come and spend the summer with me in tokyo.”

tokyo.

that seemingly faraway place where everybody wanted to end up. where a persons merit was deemed worth enough if they had made it there. the place where love ran away to die a death unseen, still but acutely felt, even through all the distance.

it felt forbidden to her.

that it was toji’s place to hide away, and she would ruin it all for him if she went there.

satoru glanced up when her silence stretched on for too long. his eyebrow quirked up unimpressed. “if it’s money you’re worried about, then don’t. you can stay with me at my place. my parents won’t mind.”

“it’s not that,” she mumbled, rubbing a pink sugar packet between her fingers.

he pursed his lips, shutting his book, and got up from his seat. motioning for her to take his place, satoru set about preparing something. she furrowed her brows, perplexed, but trying to focus on his calculations to avoid staring at him.

and then, a steaming mug of green tea appeared – a pool of pale green staring up at her like a ghost.

“drink it,” satoru ordered, but his voice was gentle, like a helping hand. “if i can go back, you can do this.”

she stared at him for a moment longer, her heart ticking faster like the sound of an alarm clock about to ring. she thought of the law of inertia, and how she had remained motionless, stuck in the same place for so long. maybe it was time to move on, to overcome her own resistance and start moving again. a year had passed, after all, and if he could just run away and live his life, then so could she.

and with that, she took a sip.

| Φ |

“i just want to say that i’m very proud of you and your progress over the last few months. you’re doing very well for yourself.”

“ah, hah! well, thankyou.”

| Φ |

satoru gojo was rich.

she already knew that he was. it wasn’t like he bragged about it often, but she could just tell. it was in the little things he did – or didn’t do. he always wore good quality shirts, the kind that weren’t so prone to wrinkles, and they always looked like they had been pressed by someone else who did it for a living. he never even thought to check his receipts for his grocery shop after swiping his card at the till, and she would click her tongue in amazement at not having to worry about such a thing.

but she didn’t realize just how filthy rich he was until she stepped foot into his apartment.

her jaw had actually dropped.

because of course he had a penthouse, and of course it was like something straight out an interior design magazine. with its floor-to-ceiling windows that hugged the whole space, and perfectly balanced blend of modern and traditional minimalism. there was the scent of tasteful freshness around her, something that was actually much like satoru – linen and eucalyptus, with a hint of peppery sweetness.

she couldn’t help but feel a little giddy.

“satoru,” she whispered with glittering awe on her tongue. “tell me something.”

he hummed questioningly, throwing his two duffle bags onto the floor and collapsing with a huff onto the sofa. “what?”

“why the fuck would you move to our shitty university when you live here?”

“oh, this? my family home is much bigger, actually. just wait til you see that.”

“you- you mean this… isn’t?”

satoru barked out a laugh. “no, this is just my own place.”

“pft!”

the sun had fallen below the skyscrapers, and she pressed her head against the cooled glass to watch the bustling world below her. the lights were twinkling madly, winking at her like they were trying to entice her out into the streets with all its colorful neon signs and billboards. her fingers twitched with anticipation, and she squealed in excitement.

“let’s go, lets go!” she exclaimed suddenly, feeling a burst of energy to explore in a way she thought she had lost as a child. “c’mon!”

satoru grinned at her, and pushed himself off the sofa.

and so began a new summer, one made of blue and white instead of green, green, green.

there were plenty of late nights spent wandering the streets, savoring all sorts of vendors and restaurants. the occasional bar hop in shinjuku, stumbling and bumbling like buzzing bees drunk on nectar, weaving their way back to a train station to get home and sleep the heat of the day away, only to do it all over again.

tonight was one of those particular nights.

they had their arms around each other, her leaning on satoru much more heavily than he was on her. it was too late – or rather, far too early – to catch a train back to the penthouse. satoru was loathe to call his driver, because of course he just had access to one on call at all times and didn’t bother to use them.

“this is sooo much more fun anyways!” he slurred, a glossy bottom lip protruded in a pout.

she blew a raspberry at him, her feet aching and legs feeling numb, but whether it was from the alcohol or pure exhaustion, she couldn’t tell. it was all fun, really, a memory she knew she would always look back on. something to make her smile and shake her head at the antics she used to get up to.

oh, how growing older was so eerily strange.

one moment, she was playing hide and seek, scraping her hands and knees on the pavement as she learned how to ride a bike.

the next she was crying in a heap on the bathroom floor as the love of her life blocked her number and left.

poof!

like he had never even existed in the first place.

“poof!” she mumbled, feeling her stomach lurch with bubbling anxiousness.

“heyyy! what’re you thinkin about?”

satoru’s voice startled her, and she hadn’t realized she’d stopped moving or that the weight of him was no longer slowing her down. he was peering at her expectantly, two moons of blue shining through the dark and bathing her in his aura.

but he already knew.

satoru always knew.

he sighed, reaching out a hand to her like salvation. she realized that he was, her saving grace, her cerulean light at the end of that infinite tunnel of vacuum and green ink.

she slid her palm in his, their fingers tangling together and fitting perfectly together in each other’s equation.

“can i take you somewhere?” satoru whispered, staring in drunk awe at their hands stuck together.

“mhm.”

the sky was just starting to change, as the sun gently pressed delicate kisses to it, making it blush in strokes of indigo and pale orange. she didn’t know where they were going, and she didn’t care. her brain was far too tired to comprehend anything. all she knew was that she and satoru were on one of the first trains of the day, the rhythmic hum of the train was soothing, and his arm was around her.

and it felt nice.

when they eventually got off the train, satoru never let go of their hands or his arm around her, steadying her as the walked and walked.

until they finally stopped.

they were in the middle of a street, standing against the flow of people brushing past them on their morning commute. the smell of a kfc just behind them tickled her nose, making her empty stomach grumble in protest.

“satoru, what are we doing here?” she asked, voice heavy with sleepiness.

but he didn’t answer.

in fact, satoru was much too quiet, his grip on her hand acutely missing as he stared straight ahead. she followed his gaze to the bold white and black stripes of a pedestrian crossing a few meters away on the busy road beside them.

her mouth suddenly felt dry.

“it’s a strange thing, isn’t it?” satoru mumbled. “we’re in this plane of existence between innocence and death, and we all just continue on.”

the longer she stared at the crossing, the more she could have sworn she saw deep red splatters flashing on the white, staining the deep black with an unnatural dullness.

she wanted to be sick.

“but that’s all we can do, isn’t it? just move on. try to forget everything when you really just can’t, because there’s nothing you can fucking do to change a thing.”

change – a chemical change.

like when paper burns, or iron turns to old rust, or flesh decays deep down in the earth. things that change and never return to what they once were, no matter how hard you tried. that was just it, really. she was something like a cigarette, set alight and burned for all she was worth, only to be stubbed out on the concrete beneath an unforgiving shoe as soon as the hit was over.

she would never be the same.

who could?

“i’ll never forget suguru,” satoru sighed, like he was resigning himself to his fate. “but that doesn’t mean i don’t want to be free of him.”

be free.

she couldn’t imagine being free of toji.

“satoru,” she said, her voice like a feather floating in the wind. “why did you bring me here?”

“because… to show you that if i can be here, in the one place on earth i never want to be, that starting to let go is possible. that if i can do it, then so can you.”

could she?

could she really be free?

she bit her lip, willed herself not to burst out crying in the middle of a very public street. the music was loud here – quite loud, in fact. and satoro was there in a pristine white shirt, holding a match to her, gently setting her on fire in a beautiful green flame, letting her atoms scatter and roam free wherever they wanted to go.

she nodded slowly.

maybe…

maybe it wasn’t so frightening after all.

| Φ |

“so, how did it go?”

“i just couldn’t fucking do it. i choked up as soon as i heard her voice.”

| Φ |

before she knew it, the summer was already coming to an end.

“maybe i could do my phd, then i’d be able to put ‘doctor’ on all my legal documents. wouldn’t that be cool?”

“seriously? you haven’t had enough of academia yet?”

she and satoru were lounging on his pristine sofa. it was so soft she felt like she was sitting on a cloud, sinking into its fluffy depths, drowning in powdered marshmallows and the crisp scent of fabric freshener. even though the holidays were nearly over, the days were still much too hot to venture outside into – a fierce heat that made her feel like a piece of fish sizzling on a frying pan. instead, they would pig out and binge television shows in the cool comfort of the air conditioning, some the peak of entertainment that would spark passionate discussions.

others not so much.

“ok, this is fuckin stupid,” satoru muttered, prickly annoyance lacing his words like cactus spines. “i’m changing this shit.”

she only hummed, absentmindedly scrolling through her social media feed. it had been far too long for her to try and remember the last time she had been on any kind of social app, but there wasn’t much else to do during the day, and the mood had just struck her to see what sorts of things people she barely knew were up to.

it was pretty much what she expected.

a seemingly endless stream of aesthetic travel and lifestyle photos, silly poses with overly wide smiles. the occasional engagement announcement, compilations of sappy wedding posts, and even the odd pregnancy reveal. how funny it was to watch everyone’s lives moving on through pixels on a screen.

until it decidedly wasn’t.

her thumb froze mid-swipe.

oh.

“oh my god.”

satoru tilted his head towards her, his eyes still fixed on the tv screen. “what?”

it was really him.

toji.

there was no mistake about it. he was standing there with his knuckles wrapped in white bandages, his chest bare and glistening with a thin sheen of sweat, a minuscule smile tugging at his lips as he posed beside shiu kong. the backdrop was clearly a gym – the mirrors behind them reflecting a sleek array of expensive looking equipment.

hard work pays off! for a limited time only, fushiguro is offering a special discount for new clients 💪 dm us to get booked in with the man himself!

she couldn’t breath.

she stared so hard at the photo that her vision blurred, her chest tightening like a snake had coiled itself around her, squeezing for all it was worth. like toji could see her through the screen and was laughing at her and how crippled she was by such a small thing. this had to be a joke. some sick, cosmic joke that the angel’s were snickering about as they dipped their quills back into their ink pots. her pulse thrummed in her ears, blocking out the world and the music and everything.

until it was just her and her phone and that damn photo.

she hated how the first thought she had was how much she missed him.

and how unfairly attractive he still looked.

upon clicking on shiu’s account, she scrolled through post after post documenting the journey of the gym’s grand opening. it was clear that bucketloads of blood and sweat that had gone into the place, with plenty of videos showing the two of them actively contributing to build it. she didn’t need to be an expert to tell that it was a great place to go, and her chest constricted again.

so, he actually did it.

he went and did what he said he was going to do.

and i’m still here.

“hey, what’s up? you get another weird silent call?”

she flinched.

satoru’s voice yanked her back into the present, a curious lilt in his question. his baby blues were fixed on her, the tv remote in his hand swinging lazily back and forth in his hand as he fiddled with it.

she bit her lip, shutting her screen off with a sharp click.

“oh, it’s nothing.”

why didn’t she want to admit it?

oh right, she was supposed to be moving on from all this.

“uh-huh,” satoru deadpanned, his eyes narrowed suspiciously. “what were you looking at?”

there really was no hiding anything from him, was there?

with an exasperated sigh, she unlocked her phone and flipped it over for him to see. satoru squinted at the screen, plucking her phone from her hands for a closer look. a white brow arched in what seemed like a mixture of disgust and recognition as he zoomed in, the sofa creaking softly beneath him as he leaned back into the cushions with a huff.

“well,” he quipped, a strange edge to his voice as he handed back her phone. “you know he’s alive.”

she didn’t say anything, her hands trembling as she set her phone down on the coffee table, farther away than it needed to be, as if it had stung her.

it had.

satoru sighed, and asked much more gently this time, “do you want to talk about it?”

“what’s there to talk about?” she replied far too quickly, the words tasting too much like bile.

the silence stretched on.

somewhere far below, a car honked aggressively, the sound faint and barely audible this high up from the hustle and bustle of tokyo. the beginnings of trailers and clips from shows began to play in the background, but neither of them seemed to be paying attention to it.

“if you ever saw him again, wha–”

“satoru. i don’t want to play that game.”

“it’s not a game if it’s a genuine question.”

“i–fuck! i don’t even know.”

“c’mon, you must have thought about it before.”

she groaned exasperatedly. “satoru.”

“what?”

“can we not talk about this?”

“no, we’re gonna talk about it. what if we bump into him while you’re here?”

“ugh, i just… wouldn’t say anything i guess.”

“seriously?”

“well, what more do you want?”

“you’d have absolutely nothing to say to the guy? you wouldn’t fucking scream at him, hit him? something?”

“no, and why should i? he’s the one that left me, and he doesn’t deserve even one word. he’s clearly moved on, and so am i.”

“right, because you totally looked over it just there.”

her jaw tightened, and she scowled at him.

“fuck off.”

it was quiet for a heartbeat until, “that’s what i would say for a start,” satoru snorted.

she rolled her eyes, rubbed them wearily, and let out a half-hearted laugh. “shut up.”

“that works too if he decides to speak, and then i’d swoop in and deck the guy.”

“are you sure you wanna do that?”

“excuse me, are you implying i couldn’t take him?”

“you definitely couldn’t.”

“uh, yes i could. quite easily, actually.”

he flexed his bicep, tilting his head and nodding approvingly at the taut muscle. she barked out a laugh, despite the churning feeling twisting her stomach with acid.

what would she actually say?

fuck you for leaving me.

what was the point of it all?

you could have at least said goodbye to me. i know i messed up, but i didn’t deserve what you did to me.

or maybe she would she just turn around and run away, just like he had? it was so easy to imagine that she would be brave enough to stand her ground and give him a piece of her mind. but she didn’t think she would. she would always be doomed to dig her roots deeper into the ground, hold her tongue, and silently defend herself against the battering storm.

“let’s not think about that anymore, yeah?” satoru attempted encouragingly, giving her foot a teasing nudge. “out of sight, out of mind, am i right?”

she smiled tightly. “right.”

right?

| Φ |

“you still mean to go through with your plan?”

“yeah. i don’t even know if she’ll be there, but i have to start somewhere, and… i don’t know. it feels like the right place.”

| Φ |

before she knew it, it was the start of winter.

that familiar crisp cold air was settling on her nose and tongue, jolting her tired bones into feeling just a little more alive. it wasn’t snowing, not yet, but it certainly wasn’t far behind. she tucked her hands into the crooks of her elbows, quietly chided herself for forgetting her gloves at home.

as per usual, she was on her way to the cafe.

she had been working a lot more than usual lately. satoru’s final year was significantly busier than his previous years, so he hadn’t been working as much, leaving her and her other colleague’s to bear the brunt of the busy end-of-year season. not that she minded, her brain had been quite preoccupied lately, and actual work was a better distraction than her studies.

she didn’t really understand what or why she was feeling so strange.

it was almost like something bigger than herself. the anticipation of the drop before leaping off a diving board, or the creeping dread that something was coming for you. that things were about to change too quickly for her to even try and keep up.

she hoped it was just all in her head.

the cafe was just around the corner now, its familiar sign flickering and wonderfully colourful against the grey clouds that hung darkly over the afternoon like an omen. she quickened her pace, boots crunching loudly against the pavement, already imagining the comforting blast of warmth that would envelope her as soon as she stepped inside. the windows were fogged over, but she could still make out the warm glow of the lamps and the outline of customers hunched over their drinks.

the doorbell chimed as she walked in, the strong scent of cinnamon swirling through up her nose like an old friend’s greeting. it was predictable and grounding, and the unease that had been chasing her for weeks was left outside to freeze in the cold.

until she walked outside again.

but that was a problem for after her shift.

“oh, thank god you're here!" her manager exclaimed, dashing past her as she shrugged off her coat, a tray of teacups balanced precariously with one hand. "can you handle the to-go's?”

from that moment on, for the next hour, she was thrown into a frazzled mess of oat milk and sickly sweet caramel syrup. her apron was stained within ten minutes, and she kept apologizing profusely for any sort of delay, even if they had only been waiting for a minute or two, or whenever she brushed against a customer's hand with her sticky syrup fingers to return their change.

it was chaos, to say the least.

she felt like a machine on autopilot, firing through order after order, hardly paying attention to anything but the job at hand.

the bell chimed – again.

she tapped the side of the cinnamon shaker against a styrofoam cup, a blinding ray of unexpected sunlight slanting through the windows. the world was suddenly skewed, an equation of pure molten gold weaving together this plane of existence for just one precious moment.

a cup clattered loudly.

huh, the sun must have come out.

a shadow fell across the counter, long and somewhat familiar.

“oh, sorry for the wait! what can–”

she looked up, the words dying painfully in her throat like shards of shattering glass.

and there he was.

the boy with dark hair standing there with his hands in his pockets, just like he used to.

it all felt so frighteningly familiar, like she'd been here before in another lifetime. she would have believed it too, because the moment stretched infinitely, impossibly, dragging on and on. it was him and his green eyes and that perfect golden scar on his lip that warped the world according to his own laws of gravity and time. she'd once traced that scar with her fingers, had once loved it, and brought forth a teardrop of blood from it.

her breath hitched.

the music was frighteningly loud now, as though the angels had been waiting for their beautiful muse to come back to them after all this time. it curled in the space between them, across the counter, beckoning their fingers to reach out and touch each other again.

toji.

she didn't say his name, couldn't. it looped in her mind like the numbers and greek letters she'd pondered over for years, never quite able to solve – maybe not even wanting to. if she did, he might just disappear altogether again. even if a part of her wanted him to, it was unbelievably sickening how her body and soul craved the sight of him.

her fingers twitched uncomfortably.

you can't be real.

no, you're not. none of this is real.

he was equal parts familiar and foreign. his mop of black hair just a touch longer than she remembered it to be, but still in that same messy style that was his. but what struck her the most were his clothes. they weren’t faded or worn, no random holes poking through anywhere. they were all clean and ironed, with a well- structured black coat over it all that looked like had just bought it from a shop and put it on.

he wasn't the same, no. that much was obvious.

but it's still you.

the cinnamon shaker slipped from her fingers, clattering onto the counter, its echo piercing through the void.

she gasped, “oh, s-sorry!”

and then he finally spoke. “s'alright.”

oh, toji.

his voice was rougher, deeper, yet even quieter than it used to be. it struck her chest like a hammer, reverberating throughout her hollowed bones and down the long hallway where the angels scribbled on their scrolls. he was staring at her like he was trying to solve her too, trying to decipher how she was really feeling on the inside.

she hated it.

hated how he was in a position that meant he knew her, even a little bit. hated that he knew everything, and would know that slight change in her face when she was about to smile or about to cry. hated how it took just about everything she had not to run away.

but most of all, she hated how she wanted nothing more than to just go to him.

to reach across the counter and pull him into her. to say how sorry she was and how much she had missed him, even beg him not to leave again.

i don’t want to love you anymore.

i wish, i wish, i wish i never did.

“i didn't think you would still be here,” he admitted, a tone of surprise in his words.

she felt a flash of annoyance.

how dare he acknowledge that she was still in the same place? it was embarrassing – shameful – that he had been able to go off and do what he said he was going to do, and she hadn't. that she was left behind in the dust of everyone else who had moved on.

“i'm doing my masters,” she replied flatly.

toji’s face fell a little at her tone, and he rubbed the back of his neck. “that's great! really. you were always smart. not that you aren't now, obviously.”

she only stared blankly at him. “would you like to order something?”

toji hesitated, his chapped lips parting, but then the doorbell chimed behind him, loud and jarring.

“hey! it's absolutely freezing outside, isn’t it?” satoru's unmistakable drawl lashed through the air like a whip, larger than life.

her head whipped towards him, an immediate wave of relief washing over her before it was replaced by cold, hard dread. toji turned slightly, glancing at the boy with starlight hair who had strolled in like he owned the place. satoru's easy grin landed on her, dazzling her in his red.

until he noticed who was standing in front of her.

his eyes turned to ice, narrowing into daggers like he was ready to slice toji up into pieces. then, deliberately slow, satoru strutted over, plonking himself behind the counter right beside her, casually leaning forward as if he had all the time in the world.

“you need something?” satoru asked dangerously, his words dipped in a deep purple.

toji looked between the two of them, and something in those green eyes of his made her feel uneasy, even a dash of unwarranted guilt. his fists were tight, fingernails digging his palm so hard it made her own hands hurt. without saying another word, he swiveled on his heels and walked back out the door, disappearing into the afternoon that had gone grey again.

“nice meeting you!” satoru called out after him, a heavy hand resting on her shoulder.

but toji was already long gone.

| Φ l

satoru didn’t want to leave her alone.

“he doesn’t know where i live,” she’d hissed as they walked back to her studio together, a brooding hulk of a guard dog beside her. “satoru! you’re acting like a lunatic.”

“shut up, will you?” he snapped, his eyes darting suspiciously at every person who passing by. “he knows where you work.”

“i think that was just a random chance,” she mumbled quietly, her breath coming out in small, hot puffs, not sure why she was even defending toji at all.

but satoru had just ignored her, ushering her through the door of her building like the boy in question was right behind them, shutting it with a particularly loud slam! she almost felt like she was in trouble for something, even though rationally she knew that absolutely none of this was her fault.

she had just never seen satoru so unbelievably angry.

after firmly making sure she had eaten something wholesome, and after much convincing on her part that she definitely wasn’t planning to leave her apartment for the night, satoru finally left her alone. not before giving her a long, hard look that made it clear that if she needed him, she was to call him immediately.

she might have been touched by it if she wasn’t so utterly consumed by thoughts of toji.

why had he come? why now?

why, why, why?

endless questions swirled around her brain, circling like a goldfish swimming around a perfectly clear crystal bowl. she lay there on her bed, the only light coming from a flickering streetlight outside. sleep was completely out of the question for tonight, so she counted the seconds between each rhythmic flicker of light, trying pathetically to distract herself from it all.

just when she might have been able to slip into the darkness of a dreamless sleep, her phone lit up beside her.

buzz! buzz!

she frowned, not recognizing the unfamiliar number.

“hello?”

“hey, uh- it’s me.”

her heart stopped, then stuttered back to life. she sat upright, gripping her phone tighter.

“sorry, you weren’t asleep were you?” toji continued, his tone slightly sheepish.

she blinked. “no.”

“oh, great!” he cleared his throat. “i didn’t think you’d pick up.”

“it’s late.”

there was a pause. “right, yeah. well, i just… i wanted to call you for a while now, but i don’t know. it just didn’t feel right to talk to you over the phone.”

she waited with bated breath.

“about what?”

she knew exactly what.

“i just wanted to say that i’m sorry.”

of course she knew – in the same way that the universe might have known the big bang was coming. that existence was on the brink of becoming itself after an explosion, stretching and rippling outward like a drop of water in an infinite ocean.

there was another pause, followed by a deep breath. “i don’t expect calling you to fix everything that i did, but i wanted to start by telling you that i’m so sorry for everything.”

did the universe know it was going to hurt this much?

“i'm so sorry,” he continued in a fragile whisper. “for the way i ran away and left you like that. and i'm sorry for being such a coward.”

maybe it had been okay with it. that’s just how something grows, isn’t it? a sudden explosion of growing pains to become something better, newer.

“you didn't deserve it.”

but the universe was born silently when it exploded into existence – a voiceless scream as creation erupted into being. she wondered how long it had been quiet for after it was all over.

“you still there?”

“yeah.”

she wondered if she would be silent too.

“well i-uh, i know that you've probably moved on from all this, but i just wanted to try and make things right.”

“mhm.”

he coughed, and cleared his throat. “you know, i went to therapy.”

“you did?”

“yeah. it was… kinda forced on me at the beginning, but i knew that i needed it to start fixing myself. i learned a lot about myself, and about why i did what i did. and i know that i definitely didn’t deserve you back then, but that i also didn't deserve to come back you if i was still the same.”

“and do you think you're... fixed now?”

“yeah, i’m just trying to be better.”

the light outside flickered again. one, two...

“you know... there's nothing you can say that'll make me forget what you did.”

three.

a sharp inhale, followed by a rough, “i know.”

“and you can’t just expect to walk back into my life like nothing happened.”

“i know.”

she turned over, burying her face in her pillow, the phone pressed against her ear.

“but that's not why i called you,” toji murmured. “i’m not trying to get you to forget what happened, because i can't either. but i’ve changed, and i just want to try and make things a little better, and to maybe be... friends, at least.”

“you want to be friends now?”

he paused for a long time.

“if you'd be okay with that, then yeah.”

“look, toji, i- i don't know.”

“i’d understand if you don't want to, believe me. and if you never want to hear or see me again then i’d get that too. and its selfish of me to even ask you this in the first place, but i have to try and keep you in my life because i still need you.”

holy good god.

“and i think about you all the time, every single day for the past two years, because you're it for me. you’re my person, and even if you don't want the same as me, then that's okay. i’d rather have you as a friend than nothing at all.”

what was she even supposed to say to that?

“and even as a friend, i promise not to leave like that again.”

“but what if i don’t want you as a friend? what if i don’t want you as anything to me anymore?”

“then i’ll leave.”

even the angels had stopped writing, their quills frozen mid-number as they peered over their desks, watching the two little humans they had tangled together in a messy scrawl of numbers and letters.

“say something,” toji said, a sad desperation in his voice. “please.”

“you hurt me, toji. do you know how much i hated you for that?”

“believe me, its not more than how much i hated myself for doing it.”

don't say it, don't say it, don't say it.

don’t you dare.

“okay,” she whispered.

“okay?”

her mind buzzed with thoughts and the consequences of allowing toji fushiguro back into her life. she thought of satoru, and how angry he would be, and how her brain screamed with all the words she wanted to hurl at toji about the true extent of how much he had hurt her.

but that didn’t matter, not yet.

not when he was here and promising to stay – to stay and be there for her, to listen to everything she had to say.

there was time for all of that.

and perhaps it was time to be born anew in a different universe.

“yeah, okay, but i can’t just be around you like that again. it doesn’t work that way, and i need time to get used to… you.”

toji’s voice sounded more hopeful, more positive, like the sun had broken through the clouds and was shining down on him again. “y-yeah, i get that! i’ll wait! however long it takes, i’ll wait.”

“okay,” she said quietly, almost as if reassuring herself.

“well it’s-uh late, i guess,” he said, a shaky cheerfulness in his voice that made the ghost of a smile play on her lips. “goodnight, and maybe call you tomorrow?”

“goodnight, toji.”

the line went quiet.

fuck.

but her mind certainly didn’t.

| Φ |

“it really brings me so much joy to have been able to help you, toji.”

“haha, thanks, but god, i just had so much more to say to her, ya know? but i think there’s still a chance, and i have you to thank for it.”

| Φ |

having toji fushiguro back in her life didn’t seem real.

it was slow and awkward, like dipping her toe into the cold sea again after having forgotten what it felt like. of course, he couldn’t stay in town for too long. tokyo and his work were calling him back, and she understood. so, they mainly kept in touch through texting, which was basically an all day affair. every spare moment they had, whether it was in between her making a cup of coffee, during study breaks, or toji in between training sessions. it would be a lie to say she wasn’t clinging tightly to every text, or that her heart didn’t leap every time her phone buzzed.

but it was also easy.

something she could nestle into, like a gentle wind beneath a bird’s wings.

sometime during the quiet nights of spring, they began calling each other to fill the silence.

“hey,” toji would greet, a bashful shyness in his voice, and she could tell that he was smiling.

she’d bite her lip to keep her own smile from forming. “hi.”

he’d ask her about her day, and all about what she was doing – every little mundane detail, as if toji was trying to collect all the parts of her that he’d missed. she told him about about her course, what she had been up to, and even about the summer she spent with satoru. he’d even ask her to remind him of some of the theories and laws she had told him about all those years ago, and she couldn’t tell if it was because he wanted to genuinely learn them again or if he just wanted to keep her on the phone longer.

she asked him about his life too. she learned that it was only a month after he arrived in tokyo that toji bumped into shiu kong in a random pachinko parlor. they had gotten talking, and before toji could count to three, shiu was already drawing up business plans for their doja on the back of a napkin. it was perfect, really. toji had the physical experience, and shiu had the connections – and, most importantly, the money.

“you know, i don’t think i’ll ever get used to just having money like this,” toji admitted, and she wanted to cry.

one day, after clearly skirting around the topic for some time, toji finally asked her, “so, uh, is satoru your…” he smacked his lips together. “boyfriend?”

“pft! no.”

his relief had been quite palpable.

“what about you?” she returned, chewing the inside of her cheek and tasting acrid metal. “have you been seeing anybody in tokyo?”

“no,” toji replied gently, like it was so silly she even asked in the first place. “not one.”

she knew her pathetic relief was most definitely palpable.

although, it wasn’t always so easy.

more often than not, just when they thought they had slipped into a sense of familiarity, the harsh reminders of the past came knocking. both of them would test the waters, perhaps asking a question that was too deep, too painful – usually about how they had coped in those early days of being apart.

it was just too hard for either of them to hear the answers. toji didn’t exactly enjoy hearing just how much she had hated him, or how utterly crippled she was for the first couple of months after he left. she could tell that it tore him up on the inside, and a part of her liked it. he deserved to feel every ounce of guilt he was capable of, and then some.

“you want to know what it felt like for me, do you?” she hissed, so much venom gushing from her bite that it even surprised her. “well, i’ll fucking tell you then.”

and she did, in great detail.

toji would snap back too, it was only human of him to.

“what, you think i had an easy time trying to fix myself?” he’d say, his voice quaking and breaking apart her resolve. “i didn’t. i was fucking miserable all the fucking time, and everytime i looked in the mirror i had my scar reminding me of my biggest fuck-up to date.”

those conversations usually ended up with her abruptly hanging up the phone and crying herself to sleep.

but she would always wake up to a message from toji, and they were always so incredibly gentle. he’d tell her how he just wanted them both to shed the weight of all their pain off their shoulders, and for her not to worry about how he felt heari all those things. that he could take it all – the pain, everything.

and that he still wasnt going anywhere.

it really struck her in those moments just how much he had changed.

still, there was something holding her back from falling back into him again.

and she wasn’t sure if it was because of satoru, who was less than impressed by it all.

“he called you, didn’t he?” he asked the day after toji called the first time, twirling a sugar packet between his fingers like he didn’t care what her answer was.

she gave him a look, saying nothing, and licked her dry lips.

he let out a long sigh, rubbing a hand over his face. “so…what? are you two back together now?”

“no,” she admitted quietly, feeling like a child about to be scolded. “but i’ve given him a chance.”

satoru’s eyes flashed a bright cerulean, like a star burning the brightest blue it ever could, before his gaze hardened.

finally, he grunted, “i get it.”

she almost spilled the latte she had been preparing.

he quirked a brow at her incredulous look and muttered, “i can’t sit here and pretend i wouldn’t do the same for suguru if i was able to.”

but before her smile could look too relieved, satoru added rather sharply, “but that doesn’t mean i like this.”

and that was that.

he never once asked how they were getting on or what they talked about. whenever her phone buzzed with a notification, he stared at it like he wanted to burn holes into it, but he said nothing – only a tight grimace appeared on his face, and that told her exactly how he felt about toji fushiguro.

and now, it was the end of her very last semester in the world of academics.

it was really dawning on her this time that her goodbyes would be final. that these last couple of months would be her last at the cafe and at the studio apartment she had eventually learned to love. on satoru’s insistence, she had decided to move on and get a proper job after graduating. he had told her he knew some contacts in tokyo who could hook them both up with decent jobs within the industry, and who was she to say no to that?

besides, it was nice to know that she wouldn’t be alone in this big, bad world.

she slipped through the door of the cafe, wiping the damp from her shoes on the entrance mat. there weren’t many students in studying at this time, the busier hours actually came later, at the start of the all-nighters. the students must have all heard that it was a quiet cafe at night, and now everyone came at the same time. the smell of sweet, buttery pastries made her tummy grumble, and she put a hand over her abdomen, as if that would quiet it down.

it did, because sitting right at the booth by the counter, was toji.

with satoru.

both their expressions were unreadable, but toji was hunched forward, nodding solemnly to whatever it was satoru was saying. her best friend had a towel draped over his taut shoulder, his starlight hair a mess, like he’d run his fingers through it one too many times.

she hesitated at the door.

what is going on?

satoru noticed her first, and his sentence trailed off like fading music. his gaze held hers firmly, fiercely. she felt that if she looked away, the world would crumble beneath her feet, and she would surely die. then, toji turned too, and the wind was knocked right out of her.

the cafe suddenly felt too small, not nearly big enough for all three of them and the weight of their pasts. satoru moved first, beckoning her over with his hand. her feet moved of their own accord, like she was a piece of metal drawn towards a magnet, helpless in trying to resist his pull.

“well,” satoru said lightly, placing the towel onto the counter. “i was just leaving.”

her throat tightened. “satoru.”

she didn’t know why the thought of being alone with toji felt more terrifying than being with both of them together, but it did. but the look that he gave her stopped her cold. it wasn’t harsh, not in the slightest, but it was mesmerizing – a thousand and one blue stars were exploding in his eyes. it made her heart hurt, her head swim with all the colors that made satoru gojo who he was. and then the stars softened into something warm and comforting, and she knew he was trying to tell her something without words.

he glanced at toji.

then back to her, giving her a barely perceptible nod.

it’s okay.

you can trust him.

she huffed a breath, the relief hitting her all at once. satoru turned back to toji, giving him a brief nod, and then he was out of the door.

a folded sheet of paper lay in front of toji, his large hand placed over it like he was afraid it might flutter away. she stood behind the counter now, a shy smile tugging at her lips as she tied her apron.

“i wanted to give this back to you,” toji said before she could say anything, a dusting of pretty pink on his cheeks as he slid the paper towards her. “i’m sorry for ripping your book.”

she unfolded the familiar paper, noting how the creases were soft and a little worn, and skimmed over the words.

oh my.

it was the page satoru had told her was missing from her book, the one about the theory of relativity, and right there in the corner was the equation for quantum entanglement written in blue ink.

“you once told me that when two particles belong together, they’ll always be connected no matter the distance between them. i’ve never forgotten it, not once this whole time.”

and then his hand was over hers, and the world and her heart was on fire.

“you still believe it?” she asked, her voice trembling, as she stared down at his thumb brushing her knuckles with a tenderness she had forgotten.

“yeah, because everything that i do, and everything that i am, is you.”

she didn’t know what toji fushiguro and satoru gojo had said to each other that day.

and perhaps she never would.

but as she poured toji a fresh batch of green tea into a big mug the way she used to, it didn’t really matter at all, did it?

| Φ |

“take care now, and i wish you all the best.”

“goodbye! and really, thankyou. for everything.”

| Φ |

today was a profoundly bittersweet occasion.

“satoru! i can’t believe this is actually happening.”

“well, you might want to start soon.”

it was her graduation day.

again.

there was some parts of it that felt unnervingly familiar, setting her teeth a slightly on edge at the reminders of the past. her kimono was laid neatly on her bed, exactly as it had been the first time. she was sat cross-legged in front of a mirror doing her makeup exactly the same way as she had on that fateful day.

but this time, it already felt better than it did the last time.

she wasn’t paralyzed with worry over the disappearance of a certain dark haired boy. she wasn’t sitting here working herself into a nervous fit over her future. no, she was here, in a new home with her best friend in the whole world. the one who had held her chin and tilted her head for her to look back up towards the stars. the one who had helped steady her shaking bones, his arms around her as he had called back the scattered atoms of her broken soul.

she looked at him fondly, far too fondly, and her angel of the stars looked back at her, alarmingly perplexed, his cheeks flushed in a bright strawberry red. “what?” he mumbled shyly.

he only got a giggle from her, her knees bouncing off the floor with a rush of excitement. she grinned as she she delicately swiped her mascara over her lashes, and satoru shook his head in confusion. he sat down carefully at the edge of her bed, smoothing out any little folds that had formed in her kimono. it was satoru’s graduation gift to her, actually – the kimono. they had picked out the fabric together, spending hours hiking through ridiculously expensive textiles that she insisted was too much, before settling on a luxuriously silky material with green and blue sakura flowers fluttering down the length of the fabric.

“you should have a piece of me on that stage,” he’d said, pointing to the blue petals, then to the green. “and i guess he deserves to be there too.”

it was then easy for her to decide that satoru gojo must be an angel.

she glanced at him again. “are you going to go and get ready, or what?”

“oh, psht! that wont take me long, don’t worry.”

he was currently in a plain black t-shirt and jeans, hair extra fluffy and untamable, and looked absolutely nowhere near ready to attend a graduation ceremony in less than an hour and a half.

“you better not, or i’ll actually kill you.”

satoru only rolled his eyes at that. “yeah yeah, sure. so you can give toji my ticket? no chance.”

while there had been a fragile peace between the two, and satoru didn’t grimace everytime she mentioned toji, he certainly still wasn’t as fond of the dark haired boy as she would have liked by this point.

“speaking of,” satoru continued with an air of nonchalance. “what is the guy doing today without a ticket?”

it had already been decided some time ago that satoru would be the one to have the spare ticket to her graduation. by the time toji had started getting closer to her, it had been too late to change it, and maybe it was also the faint lingering trauma from what had happened at the last one. she was hesitant to give it to him, and it would be a lie to say that toji wasnt disappointed.

though he had tried his best to hide it, she could see right through him.

“oh, he said he would try and sneak in the back to watch. if not, i’ll just meet him at the cafe later tonight.”

her best friend only hummed, watching with fascinated interested, his head tilted as she put her makeup on.

“sneaking in, huh? doesn’t really seem like his style.”

she shrugged her shoulders, blending an extra touch of concealer with her fingers. “he really wants to try and be there for me this time, you know?”

“as he should. i was sorta worried about you both for a while.”

“huh, you? worried about toji?”

“yeah, you’re right. it’s more of a very bland interest.”

she gave him a hard look.

“okay, okay! honestly though, i felt like the only thing stopping him from really getting to you was me. and that after we had that conversation, he would just dive straight back into what you guys had without a second thought.”

she glanced at satoru through the mirror. “well, neither of you want to tell me what you said to each other.”

“mind your business!”

“pft!”

“anyways, i guess it was more that i was worried about something happening and it tearing you apart again. i can’t watch that happen, not after you’ve just put yourself back together.”

satoru sighed, his knee bouncing rapidly. “and, well… i suppose i can only really ask you about how it's going.”

her hands suddenly felt stiff, and she set down her brush. “it’s not… easy, sometimes. we’ve talked about everything that happened, and its painful, but it also just feels good. there’s a part of me that feels more stitched together than i did before. we’re not perfect yet, but we’re both trying, and it’s nice.”

she added more softly. “we laugh more than we used to. a lot now, actually.”

the blue nebula in his eyes sparkled. “yeah?”

“haha, yeah.”

satoru hummed thoughtfully, “you really think its different this time?”

“yeah, i do, satoru.”

“you know, i’ve never told you this, but you say my name the way suguru used to.”

a shaky, lopsided smile played on her lips, her eyes glossing over. “he must have really loved you then.”

satoru’s pearly lashes fluttered, as if he was startled by the weight of her words, and another bashful blush spread across his cheeks, his lips forming a glossy pout.

“like i do,” she added, more teasingly this time. “in case that wasnt obvious enough already.”

“right, okay,” satoru huffed, rubbing the back of his neck as he turned his head away from her. “don’t get all mushy on me now, miss graduate.”

he got up and patted down his jeans, his fingers slipping into his left pocket to feel for his invitation. “i guess i’ll see you after it’s over.”

she squealed excitedly. “okay! see you later!”

| Φ |

the air outside the auditorium was positively electric.

huh, i must have missed out on this feeling the last time.

there were plenty of nervous, jittery smiles and hand shakes as the waiting room buzzed with static energy. she mingled briefly with some of her classmates, musing with them at how far they had come and all the challenges they had overcome. some of them even talked about what their plans were for the future, a few jaws dropping when she quietly admitted where she would be working in tokyo. soon enough, they were all being ushered in to take their seats on the stage.

the reality of the moment was really sinking in as she took her seat. as she smoothed out her kimono, her eyes scanned the seemingly endless rows, which were filling fast with family members and close friends.

she frowned.

satoru’s unmistakable starlight hair was nowhere to be seen.

he must be running late. hopefully he gets here before it starts.

the lights dimmed, and the doors at the back of the auditorium shut with a decisive thud.

i’m really going to kill him.

her heart panged with disappointment.

and then she saw him.

toji fushiguro.

the boy with dark hair who used to never have much to say, and was perfectly happy with not being liked by anybody – except her. the boy with forests in his eyes and a scar on his lip that he didn’t let anybody touch – except her.

the one who hadn’t been there the last time and almost seemed out of place now.

but he was here – for her.

because she was the unexpected variable, the singular exception that had been thrown into his routine equation just to shake the foundations of his existence. and maybe there would be other inexplicable formulas – there probably would – but that didn’t matter. she knew the angels had entangled them together, and there was nothing more to do or say about it. because no matter what had happened, or what would happen, they belonged to each other.

there was a constant pull for each other souls through the broken skin of a golden scar.

satoru must have given him his ticket.

toji was grinning at her, so proud and perfect, standing up and clapping for her like she was the only person in the room as she accepted her certificate.

the music of the angels played on in her mind, bright and clear, for one last time.

and her equation was finally solved.

| Φ |

©storiesoflilies 2024, all rights reserved. please do not plagiarize, translate, or repost any of my work on other sites! i only post on ao3 and tumblr.

[lillithsalvatore]

million dollar man

pairing: royal!jacaerys velaryon x fem!reader

summary: the price of loving a million dollar man, a prince

warning: modern royal au!, mention of cheating, angst, minor dni, cursing, asshole jace (?), cried. like and reblog are appreciated!! my 1st imagine, please be nice!!

---

"Did you fuck her, Jace? Answer me!" you demanded your soon-to-be-husband, your voice trembling with anger as you stared at Jace, eyes burning with rage. In your hand was a newspaper from a well-known publication, which you held up in front of him. A news about him with his 'childhood bestfriend'

When Jace finally confessed, nearly shouting, "Once, just once, and I fucking regreted it" your heart tightened. His admission felt like a powerful blow to the trust and pride you had invested in him. Your anger intensified, but beneath it all, a deep sadness began to take hold of your mind.

"Once?" You gave a bitter smile. "Even once is fucking enough to destroy everything we had, Jace."

Jace looked at you with regretful eyes, but that only made you feel more exhausted. "Do you know? I trusted you more than I trusted myself. And you betrayed that trust for a moment of weakness."

"Y/n…" Jace began, trying to approach you, but you raised your hand to stop him.

"Don't!" you choked out, but your voice remained firm. "Don't make this worse Jace”

You took a deep breath, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill over. "I loved you sincerely, but love cannot continue when trust has been shattered."

Finally, you turned away, heading toward the door,

"I hope you never make anyone else feel the way I did."

Jace stood there, frozen, feeling the pain in every word you spoke. He realized that you were not just angry about the betrayal, but also about feeling disregarded, pushed aside in a relationship where you had poured all your heart and soul.

"Y/n, I'm sorry, —" Jace said, his voice trembling, but you couldn't bear to hear any more. Apologies at this point only deepened the pain.

"Don't apologize, Jace," you replied, your voice breaking with sobs. "Sorry doesn't change anything. You chose her over me, It's always been her, Jace."

You could feel Jace's hand still holding yours, but now, that warmth no longer provided the comfort it once did. Instead, it only reminded you of the times he wasn't there for you, when he chose to protect someone else over you.

“Please don’t do this, please let me fix it” He begged

"I tried so hard, Jace. I gave you everything I had, but you chose her, even if you didn't realize it," you said, your voice now filled with nothing but exhaustion and despair.

Jace didn't know what to do, what to say to fix his mistake. He could feel everything between you falling apart, piece by piece, with no way to put it back together.

"Y/n, I—" Jace started, but you interrupted him, pulling your hand out of his grasp.

"I can't stay here anymore, Jace. I can't keep going like this. I guess that's the price of loving a million dollar man."

"And I giving this ring back to you, I hope you'll find someone who deserve it" You turned away, moving towards the door, trying to leave this suffocating space before your heart completely shattered.

Before opening the door, you looked back at Jace one last time, hoping he would understand what you couldn't put into words: that you had loved him deeply, but you couldn't stay with someone who no longer belonged to you.

And then, you walked out of the apartment. As the door closed behind you, you felt a profound sadness but also a sense of relief, as if a great burden had been lifted. The tears had dried up, leaving a void in your heart, but it was a necessary emptiness, allowing you to move forward, to find yourself again and rebuild your life from the ruins.

And though the pain was immense, you knew you had done the right thing. You chose yourself

Jace might realize his mistake, but it was too late. The love and trust you had given him were no longer intact. Now, you had to seek happiness for yourself, a happiness unbound by emotional scars.

And so, you moved on, looking toward the future, knowing you deserved a true love, a love that would never betray you.

[always-just-red]

Hey, a fluff scenario for cuddling with Rafayel? Thank you 🐡✨

This one really got away from me ahaha, whoops. There's also a moment where my fine art degree really leaps out, so look forward to that, everyone. My first time writing for Raf - thank you anon!!

Perspective

Rafayel x Reader 🎨

Summary: You've spent two hours preparing a meal for Rafayel, and he has absolutely no intention of sitting down to it.

Genre: fluff fluff FLUFF!

Warnings/Additional tags: established relationship, cuddling, kisses, lots of intimacy tbh (soft, not spicy!)

| Word count: 2k | Masterlist | Opt-in to my taglist here!

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Love and Deepspace. All work is my own, so please don't repost or plagiarise!

Thirty minutes. You and Thomas had spent thirty minutes on the phone trying to figure out where your boyfriend actually was. Half an hour of he’s not with you? and no, I thought he was with you!— back and forth, like a metronome, and it wasn’t exactly the first time, either.

You’re seasoned investigators at this point: called constantly out of retirement for one last job you swear you’re too old for, and yet you know is never going to really be the last. You’ve already got matching t-shirts printed for the tortured agent’s next birthday: ‘Special Unit: Find Rafayel.’ (He won’t find it half as funny as you do.)

Neither of you had heard from the artist since Tuesday, and— it being Friday— he was either in his studio, painting, or definitely dead. It fell within your jurisdiction to find out, so you’d driven here two hours ago, texting Thomas upon arriving:

He's alive!! 🥳🥳🥳

You’re less excited about it now.

Stood at Rafayel’s kitchen island, you lay out the last of the buffet you’ve prepared to try to entice him away from his art. It’s worked in the past: has seen him sniff the air and follow his stomach to whatever you were cooking, like a stubborn stray cat.

“C’mon, Raf,” you call out, because he’s not taking the bait. “Food’s getting cold.”

“Not hungry!”

Your fists ball around the cutlery you’re setting down on the marble; he’s not eaten for three days. You glance up at him across the open space of his home, taking a deep breath through your nose as you watch him scrawl away at his painting. Somewhere in your mind, Thomas is speaking. This is what you signed up for, remember?

Reluctantly, you cross between the rooms, folding your arms as you come up behind Rafayel. “Raf,” you insist again, “come and sit down. Please? You need to eat something.”

“I’m fiiiiiine.” His paintbrush drags viridian over the lower third of his piece.

“You’re not fine,” you huff, and he doesn’t respond. “Rafayel.”

“Rafayel?” he mimics with a chuckle. “You’re mad.”

He’s ‘Rafayel’ in only two types of circumstance: when he’s making you really, really happy, or he’s making you consider the career-leap between bodyguard and assassin. It’s an extraordinarily thin line, and he just loves walking the tightrope.

“I’m not mad, just worried. Can’t you come eat with me? Your painting isn’t going anywhere.”

“It’s not,” he agrees, smoothing out a stroke of paint, “but what about my inspiration?”

“That’ll be waiting for you, too.”

“You think?” His lips curve as he pensively pokes at them with the wooden end of his brush. “I guess you did spend a lot of time cooking, huh? And if you’re really that worried, then…” He spins around with wide eyes. An epiphany. “Feed it to me?”

You stare back, unmoved by the puppy-like expression. He looks cute, yeah, but you’re not falling for it again. This is exactly how he looked earlier, when you’d convinced him to at least accept a glass of water. You’d almost drowned him in your subsequent efforts to actually get it down his throat.

Rafayel mixes three colours on his palette as you relive the ordeal. Like the once-white of his shirt, it’s awash with vibrant greens and blues, some fresh, some days-old. He pauses when he’s done, but you can tell he’s itching to get back to the canvas. “Give me, like… half an hour?” he estimates. The number’s been plucked from thin air. “The food’s gonna be delicious, even if it’s cold. You made it!”

“Raf, I—”

“And how can I even enjoy it if I’m racing to get back here? I wanna savour it, y’know? And anyway…” he trails off, his attention drawn by something above.

“Yeah?” you prompt, glancing upwards. There’s nothing there.

His gaze snaps back. “Sorry, the ceiling was doing something weird. But yeah, anyway, it’s not like you have to— I mean, it’s not like I’m going to— wait. What were we talking about again?”

Not much surprises you these days, but your mouth is still agape. Enough is enough. “Put the paintbrush down. You’re done.”

He nonchalantly returns to the painting. “I’m really not, though.”

You narrow your eyes. Reassess. “You were right about the ceiling.”

“Yeah?” He looks up.

You snatch the paintbrush. “Ha!”

He blinks blankly at you and your eagerly-clutched trophy, unfazed by the moment of triumph. “Cute trick,” he shrugs. He runs a finger across the palette and applies the new colour to the painting with a quick sweep. “What’s next, Miss Bodyguard? You gonna cut off my ha— ow, ow, ow! Hey! Take it easy!”

You’re pinching his ear, dragging him wordlessly to the kitchen, because you're out of things to say.

“Fine. Fine!” he groans as he tries to keep up with you. You release him and he straightens, his face pink, but not as pink as his ear. “You win! Let’s just get this over with, yeah?”

You stop dead in your tracks, then turn with a look so cold he couldn’t melt it with all of his fire.

“I mean— ahaha,” he laughs nervously, rubbing his neck. “It smells amazing, cutie. You’re amazing. I can’t wait.”

…

Rafayel sits back on his stool, still staring at his painting. The mood is different from earlier. There’s no more restlessness or impatience; he isn’t in a rush. He’s humming a soft song you’re almost certain you’ve heard before, but you can’t quite place the melody. It’s pretty, though: the sort of tune one might recall from a childhood music box, or maybe even a dream.

There’s a clink as you stack two finished plates. Then another. And another.

“Don’t,” Rafayel says quietly, catching your hand before you can collect the plate nearest to him. “I’ll do it later— promise. Sit with me?”

You were never going to say no, but his hands are on your hips before you can say yes, and he’s turning you gently— pulling you up onto his lap. You smile as his arms wrap around you, keeping you from slipping, and he’s warm as you relax back against him.

“What do you think?” he asks, staring out over your shoulder.

Your gaze follows his to the painting, still waiting for him. “It’s okay.”

“Oh yeah?” You can feel him chuckle before it reaches your ears.

“Yeah,” you confirm with a smile, shifting to face him as much as you can. “Kinda pales in comparison to my favourite masterpiece. This one,” you poke two fingers to his chest. “Right… about—” they walk higher, “—here!”

You boop his nose and he immediately scoffs, his face going red. “Sheesh,” he mumbles, unable to meet your eyes. “That was lame.”

“You’re blushing.”

“Am not!”

He squirms as you laugh and try to touch his cheeks; they’re going to feel hot, and he’s a sore loser. His hands don’t manage to capture yours, so they settle for finding your hips again, swivelling you around until you’re trapped by his embrace. You’re both one misjudged move away from toppling to the floor, so you let him keep his victory. What’s left of his dignity, too.  

Your laughter rescinds like a tide, but the quiet is far from empty.

“C’mon,” Rafayel tries again. He nuzzles into the crook of your neck, nudging your head, urging you to look forward. His hair is feather-soft on your skin, and he peppers chaste kisses along the line of your jaw. “Tell me. What do you see?”  

You hum contentedly. “A painting.” You’re not thinking about it at all; your eyes are closed.

“And?”

“A plant. A sofa. Some curtains,” you recall.

“You know what I meant,” he grins against you.

You lean back with a sigh, no longer supporting your own weight, but sinking into him with trust and begrudging compliance. It’s not bad, as surrenders go. He gives you a squeeze of encouragement and your head rolls back, stopping at his shoulder. His breath is skirting over your cheek, just barely.

You open your eyes and really look at the painting.

“It’s beautiful, Raf,” you murmur. It is; it was always going to be. “Everything you do is beautiful.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he chuckles, “I know.” But he wants more. “Does it make you think of something, maybe? Anything?”

There’s no right or specific answer. This isn’t remotely your field of expertise, and you’re oceans apart sometimes, so he has to outstretch a hand. Two viewpoints. Two sides of a coin; you never should have seen each-other.

Your life is hunting monsters, and his is finding beauty in a world where they exist. It’s not what you see, it’s how you see it. Crimson to him is a sunset; to you it’s blood.  

Something in you aches as your eyes roam over his latest work. He won’t tell you what it’s meant to be, not really: that’s a private understanding between him and the canvas, his heart and every stroke of paint. Does it make you think of something? Though the marks are fixed, they’re somehow fluid. The emerald tones are marred by shadows, as though something’s lurking beneath the surface, but there are traces of white, too. Light: shimmering.

“Reflections,” you finally answer. “Scattered to anonymity by a now turbulent lake. They belonged to something else, once, but they’ve taken a new shape— a restless and ever-changing identity— and no-one knows what it is, let alone what it was.”

With a satisfied smile, you close your eyes. That ought to keep him quiet for a minute.

Sure enough, Rafayel is silent. You don’t have to see his crystalline eyes to know they’re set on the painting, soaking it in with a new perspective. His favourite perspective: yours.

You have never been strangers to each-other. Two sides of a coin are still the same coin.

With a light laugh of surprise, he plants a kiss on your shoulder. “Thanks.”

“For what?”

“For taking care of me.” He’s nuzzling into you again. “I know I can be—”

“A pain in the ass?”

He laughs louder. “I was gonna say eccentric.”

“Oh…” You draw air through your teeth. “Yeah. That’s what I meant.”

Your voice is humourless, your face plain. It lasts all of two seconds, and then the charade is falling to pieces; he’s nibbling at your ear, your neck, and it tickles mercilessly. You giggle, but you don’t try to escape. The punishment fits the crime, and who are you to deny him his justice?

You’re quickly running out of breath, so Rafayel ceases his assault, letting you get it back. “Can I look at you now?” you ask.

He clicks his tongue. “I’ll allow it.”

You shift and he lifts you a little— helping you twist around to face him. He smiles fondly as he links his hands behind you, stopping you from falling as you lean back to enjoy the view. It’s the best kind of smile: one that reaches his eyes and makes them sparkle, like the water in the painting, but infinitely more pretty.

You want to feel that smile on your lips, so you lean in and kiss him.

It’s tender and perfect and when you’re done, you snuggle closer, wrapping your arms around him and nestling like you’ll be staying there for a while. You can hear his heart, and though a part of it is in his painting, the rest is with you. Always with you.

“Shouldn’t you get back to your work?” you ask as you think of it, smiling into his shirt. He won’t— not tonight.

“Nah,” he says, running his fingers through your hair. “It can wait.”

[princecharmingwinks]

Sterek Fic Rec - 2024

Guess who's backkkkk??? Ok so I know that I am late but only by like 4 days? So not too bad. Anyway! Welcome to Prince's 2024 Fic Rec List! I am now aiming to do a list every year (and more if we are lucky but let's not promise that hehe). As always here are my top 10 fics I read and a special bonus mention !

Perfect Star That Hid by thebigoblin (1/1 | 1K | Teen)

He turns his hand— It’s not bare, anymore. His wrist — it has a name. His soulmate’s name. He stares. And stares and stares because what the hell. This has to be a joke, right?

Last Christmas (I gave you my heart) by jadore_hale (1/1 | 4K | Teen)

“W-what is this?” Derek couldn’t even begin to get his mind around this current situation. “My Christmas gift to you, nephew.” Peter pushed the guy towards him, and Derek hastened to catch him before he fell face first on the floor. “I’d like you to meet your soul mate.” *** Derek's uncle Peter decides to get a little more creative this Christmas by finding Derek's soulmate and stuffing him in a box with a pretty bow on top.

Stiles Stilinski, Magical PI by suzvoy (1/1 | 21K | Mature)

Stiles is a Private Investigator, only not really. He's also magical, but only close up. One thing he's really good at is lusting over people from afar, which is why it's a problem when Laura Hale hires him to help her brother.

Wanted and Wounded by RoxyRosee (3/3 | 12K | Explicit)

Derek can't seem to get off. It's been days with no luck, and he's constantly on edge. But then pack night rolls around, and when Stiles falls into him as he goes to sit down on the couch, Derek is suddenly coming, right where he sits. Turns out, Stiles is his mate. And among a whole slew of embarrassing side effects to this whole "mate" thing is the fact that Derek will never again be able to have an orgasm without Stiles by his side. So yeah, Derek's life kind of sucks right now.

Welcome to the Jingle by Jmeelee (1/1 | 1K | Mature)

Derek could admit—only to himself, of course, never out loud—that he was a little desperate to make new holiday traditions with his (officially all adults now thank god) pack. But his ideas had run more along the lines of a cozy take-out dinner at his new apartment, an ugly sweater or white elephant party, or maybe volunteering at the local soup kitchen. It had not involved spending Christmas Eve at Jungle.

Hey Dad, Derek Hale Is In My Room. Bring Your Gun. by fairytalesandfolklore (1/1 | 767 | Teen)

Being the Sheriff's kid is hard enough. Having a seemingly over-protective father who's more concerned about your bad influence than your ex-murder-suspect werewolf boyfriend is so much worse.

"The point is, I'm an adult," he amends, heaving a weary sigh as he attempts to salvage whatever is left of his dignity. "I can make my own decisions, and I choose Derek. He makes me happy. He's a good guy. He treats me well. He looks out for me, keeps me safe. He's responsible and respectful and a complete gentleman, and I really think that if you just got to know him a little better, you'd really—" The Sheriff holds up a hand, effectively cutting Stiles off mid-ramble. "I like Derek just fine," he says, and the smile that spreads across his face is warm and genuine. "You do?" Stiles falters, completely thrown. "Wait, so then why—" The Sheriff's fond smile turns to one of wry amusement. "It's you I don't trust, Stiles," he says around a hearty chuckle. "I've raised you for 18 years, I know exactly what kind of mischief you're capable of. Wouldn't want you dragging that nice, respectable boy into any trouble."

The Hoodie by PersePhonesDreams (1/1 | 1K | General)

Stiles didn’t mean to keep Derek’s hoodie—really, he didn’t. But the oversized, ridiculously soft thing quickly became his favorite comfort item, a piece of Derek he couldn’t quite let go of. It’s not like Derek would notice anyway... right? When Derek unexpectedly shows up at Stiles’ window one quiet night, Stiles’ not-so-secret attachment to the hoodie is exposed, leading to a conversation that changes everything. Cue awkward confessions, teasing smiles, and the realization that maybe Derek doesn’t mind Stiles keeping more than just his hoodie.

Over the Hedge(witch) by rororowyourboat (1/1 | 7K | Teen)

Derek moves into a new house with Laura and he is flustered by the hot gardener next door who is always just slightly dirty.

And When I Wake You're There I'm Saved by suchfun (1/1 | 14K | Teen)

"Derek," Stiles says, firm. His hand is warm on Derek's shoulder. "I'll be okay." "You didn't leave me," Derek argues. "How can you expect me to leave you?" Stiles rolls his eyes. "Oh my god, it'll be fine. Even if I am captured, I'm just a boring human. They wanted you for your Lycan blood." Derek crosses his arms. Mainly so he doesn't wrap his hands around Stiles' throat in an attempt to throttle some sense into him. "That's fine. But this isn't a time when being a boring human is an asset. This is a time when being a boring human results in a shot to the head." "Derek," Stiles says again. He steps closer, so Derek is surrounded in his scent, his chemosignals—namely unwavering, resolute determination, distinctively sharp and entirely unbreakable—clouding Derek's mind. "You'll come back for me." He sounds so sure, and he can tell the exact moment Derek gives in. Because Derek somehow always gives in to Stiles. "I'll come back for you," he confirms. "And you better not be dead." Stiles grins, eyes sparkling with far too much humour for someone who potentially just sacrificed himself for a surly Lycan and bunch of strangers. "You do say the sweetest things."

Remember What's Lost by AMatchInWater (1/1 | 7K | Explicit)

Wild Hunt AU, Stiles gets taken and Derek instantly knows something is wrong with his memory, but just doesn't know what until Lydia calls him, begging for his help to get Stiles back because she thinks they have the strongest connection. When Derek saves Stiles he stops at nothing to finally get what's his.

princecharmingwinks special mention (this fic has a heck of a lot of emotions and when Derek fell to his knees, my heart broke. you gotta read it to find out why! don't worry I will never read or rec unhappy endings)

Horizons into Battlegrounds by AClosedFicIsNeverRead (1/1 | 15K | Explicit)

Derek has always kept his distance from Stiles, refusing to act on his instinctive desire for the pale, doe-eyed human. But at what cost? When circumstances reveal the horrors that Stiles has suffered due to Derek's self-imposed distance, will the Alpha be able to make it right before it's too late? ______________________________________________________ “Who are you to the pack?” the hunter asked. “I’m nobody.” Stiles answered plainly. And a harsh chill ran through Derek’s body. His breath caught in his throat because… because Stiles’ heart… it had remained steady. Stiles… actually believed that. Believed that he was ‘nobody.’ How could Stiles believe that?

That is all for 2024 my friends! Please remember to give kudos and leave comments for all our amazing Sterek writers. I know I'd be lost without you all. Thank you!

[lacydollette]

Lol, this is from my own current personal angst in my life but I was thinking it can be used for an angsty Rafe x Reader. I have very low self esteem, I don't think I look pretty so I have a hard time accepting that a guy could be interest in me or find me appealing, especially cuz guys have called ''mid''. Right now I'm talking to THE sweetest guy. THE most greenest flag of all. Super respectful, mature and kind. I had a freakout and pushed him away, wanted to stop talking. He got super upset, send me a drunk text basically being like ''I'm so attracted to u and your everything I've ever dreamt of. I just wanna make you happy and make you smile. Your so special to me. I keep saying that your beautiful, amazing and gorgeous but you won't hear it. Please don't let your insecurites get in the way of us. I fkn miss you'' I mean...hey feel free to take whatever inspiration you want from that, change it, build on it, whatever you want! We just want a sappy head over heels Rafe who is heartbroken being pushed away (but with a happy ending)

a/n tysm for sharing this with me! and please don’t let your doubts get in the way of your happiness. you are BEAUTIFUL and you MATTER ❤️‍🩹 i hope u like this little piece.

warnings rafe cameron x fem!reader, reader with low self esteem, situationship, angst, fluff, rafe being a sweetheart

Rafe couldn’t really tell when it started, but he could feel it in your forced smiles and short responses. He tried to convince himself it was nothing, but the ache in his chest told him otherwise. Every attempt to figure out what he had done wrong was met with your dismissive shrug and a short, “I’m fine.”

But what Rafe didn’t know about was the chaos in your mind. You liked him—really liked him—but your insecurities were keeping you from letting yourself fall completely. You couldn’t ignore the way girls seemed to flirt with Rafe at parties, the way people whispered that you weren’t pretty or cool enough, to be with someone like him. It didn’t matter how many times he told you that you were beautiful—the doubt in your mind drowned out his words. So, you began to pull away, convinced it was only a matter of time before he realized you weren’t what he wanted.

And that’s why Rafe ended up going to this party alone, although it should have been a night that you two spend together. You had promised to go, only to back out at the last minute with a stupid excuse about not feeling well. Rafe knew you were lying. Obviously he didn’t want to go without you, but after Topper wouldn’t stop begging him, he gave in.

He spent the first hour trying to lose himself in the crowd, nursing a beer and pretending to laugh at Topper’s jokes, but it was useless. Every girl who tried to flirt with him only reminded him of you, and every drink made the knot in his chest tighten. Eventually, he escaped out into the yard, needing space to think—or maybe just to breathe.

The cool night air sobered him slightly, but not enough to stop him from pulling out his phone. His fingers hovered over your contact before he finally hit call. It rang three times before you picked up.

“Rafe?” You said softly, voice trembling slightly. You winced at how vulnerable you sounded.

“hi, baby.” he said, his voice breaking slightly before going right in. “What’s going on with you? Please, just tell me. Did I do something? Did I hurt you somehow? Because if I did, fuck I swear to God, I didn’t mean to.”

Your throat tightened, guilt twisting in your stomach. He sounded so desperate, so unlike the confident, self-assured Rafe you knew. You didn't know what to say, how to explain something you couldn't even fully understand yourself.

“Talk to me, y/n,” he pleaded. “I can’t do this anymore. I can’t keep guessing what’s wrong. I care about you too much to lose you like this.” His voice cracked, and he raked a hand through his hair, his frustration spilling over. “I’m completely crazy about you. I don’t care about anyone else. You’re it for me. You’re the only one I want.”

Your heart shattered at his words. He cared about you, really cared about you. But how could he? How could someone like Rafe Cameron, with his perfect smile and effortless charm, care about someone like you?

"Rafe..." you whispered, unsure of what to say. “No,” he interrupted. “You have no idea how much you mean to me. I think about you all the time—when I wake up, when I go to sleep. You’re all I want, y/n. And if there’s even a part of you that feels the same way—then please, stop pushing me away.”

The silence that followed was unbearable. Rafe leaned against a tree, his heart pounding so loudly it drowned out everything else. Then he heard you breathe out, followed by muffled sobs, which you tried so hard to suppress by pressing your palm over your mouth. You wanted to believe him, wanted to let his words sink in and erase all your doubts. But the fear was still there.

“I didn’t think I was enough for you,” you finally whispered, voice trembling. “You could have anyone, Rafe. And people keep saying I don’t deserve you, and maybe they’re right.”

“Are you kidding me?” he said, his voice rising as he couldn’t believe that you’d actually think that. “Baby, you’re more than enough. You’re everything. Don’t let what other people say get in your head. They don’t know you. They don’t know us.”

Your sniffle came through the line, and he could picture you wiping your tears, head bowed like it always was when you were upset. “I just… I didn’t want to hold you back.”

“You’re not holding me back,” he replied softly. “You’re the only thing keeping me sane.” He paused. “Please, just let me in. Let me prove to you how much you mean to me.”

The sincerity in his voice was undeniable, and you believed him. Believed that he was serious about you two. “Okay.” You said. Relief washed over him, and he exhaled shakily. “Okay,” he repeated, his lips curving into a smile. “I’m coming to you right now.”

Your eyes widened, “No, Rafe, you don’t have to—”

“I want to,” he said firmly. “Stay where you are. I’m coming to you. We’ll figure this out together.” And with that, he ended the call, his heart pounding with determination. He didn’t care what anyone else thought. You were his, and he wasn’t going to let you go.