#summer popping off w the content

[sunlessea]

in truth, he doesn't think the clarification on divinity's part even matters. it is incredibly selfish, of course, to think as much  :  however somber the facts of it, that is what he, isidorios, the elegiast, works so diligently to uphold.  "maybe it would've been for the best i was damned. my life wasn't worth remembering."  he realizes only after he says it, then, how terribly macabre that must be to hear. he closes his lips, eyes narrowing 'gainst the tears that sting them. he hadn't meant for it to sound that way.  "the truth is that i just didn't want to feel alone anymore. i don't know if i was really searching for deliverance or an excuse not to go through with it."  he recovers, albeit quietly, with no lack of tremble 'gainst his voice.  "t'would only be fitting that, in the end, i was the one who didn't notice you. i came to you praying for kindness when i killed myself, and in doing so blinded myself each time you attempted to reach out to me. i'm a fucking idiot."  they stare so very intently at his sleeve, head shifting to rest their cheek 'gainst his chest, now. they can hear his heartbeat. he smiles, solemnly. oh, but he is so very jealous of him, then.

he sighs, but knows there is no use trying to steady himself. so he doesn't. instead, he stays like this, allows his weight to fall into the god who yet steadies him, and oh, the irony of it all. he does fall silent, however, letting him speak rather than cutting in. he isn't sure what he'd expected  ...  mayhaps he had been waited for excuses, or lies, or further revelation. in that regard, he supposes he is to be disappointed, though he believes he finds comfort in it, the same he does the fingers that card through his hair, so messy from his run here, near untied from its ribbon. his expression softens, unsure, but attentive, and his fingers at last begin to loosen their grip 'pon the fabric of his suit. for the best is it  :  they'd begun to ache quite terribly.  "it wasn't for the sake of my comfort that i let you lie to me, or even accused you of being malkavian. i knew you weren't. we can smell other vampyr, douce colombe  ...  i was protecting you. i thought—... i thought you were kine. human."  it's embarrassing now, acknowledging it. but how was he supposed to know he had thought a god of the glory to be mortal man? at the time, the protection had felt warranted. now he feels stupid.

he does not veer into further discussion of it, however. the masquerade, for once, is so blissfully far from his mind. he can feel him looking at him, instinct that makes a self conscious chill rush 'long his spine. but he dutifully, stubbornly, refuses to look up at him, now boring a hole into his sleeve. he swallows, hard, but no amount of emotional preparation, joke that it is now, could have prepared him for the confession he imparts 'pon him now. fitting should it be he jolts himself up without intent to do so, eyes wide even as the elegiast's hands travel to their face. it is humiliating, the way they sputter, lips parting in blatant disbelief  :  already, his own voice is screaming in his mind that he must have misheard him!  "i—what—what—what do you mean you've never—?! a—are you making fu—"  he stops himself before he says it, the exclamation and situation far too familiar for his own taste  ...  but were it that his heart could thrum! so awkward are his hands in the space created between them now, not quite rested 'pon his chest any longer, but still held up in the air, and oh, they tremble. the very concept he could be anyone's first love, in that moment, it near enough to shatter him, and he is certain it shows in how emotionally he wilts.

however, he cannot bring himself to look away again. his hands are warm, even 'neath the gloves he wears, so lifeless is their own body.  "i feel as if i'm hearing a confession i don't deserve,"  he breathes, voice cracking as it hits higher than intended, and in the end, he is meant to bite 'pon his lip to keep from sobbing.  "i've not offered you anything to be gifted your heart so, i— dove, i am not a creature meant for such soft yearnings. holy or no, you are so much more than the tainted love—"  i have to give you. such emotions, choked in his throat, are not new. it stands to reason, perhaps, he had always thought so, and no divine revelation had changed that. but still he looks 'pon him as he always had, even with tears in his eyes  :  adoringly, afraid, shy, but longing, for something he does not think he should have. and when he releases him, then, although certainly confused, he is thankful for the opportunity to look elsewhere, take a moment to catch his gentle breaths.

he does not stop him from his fretting, not sure what in the world he could be searching for. it gives him a second, however brief, to rest his hand over his dead heart once more, furrow his brows 'gainst the feelings that war within him. he wholeheartedly believes what he says  :  he is not enough, not good enough, for someone like this. he knows what they are, an unholy amalgamation of a monster that had not lived in centuries, had not experienced emotion aside from reflection for just as long, and yet. he swallows, presses his lips thin against the ache in his chest, and glances to him as he grows more frantic. and yet, he loves him. it is not a holy love, not an innocent one. it cannot be, when sourced from a kindred, an insane malkavian. but he does, in a way he cannot rightly remember having ever felt, in spite of their kind's afflictions.

"you..."  he is forced out of his reverie, attention turning back to who, for all intents and purposes  ...  is his beloved. then, to the box he holds in his hands.  "a  ...  gift?"  he doesn't react at first, as he so oft tends not to, when people give him things. he's said it before  ...  how he dislikes receiving gifts, when he is in a position not to return a favor. but he doesn't scold him, only stares at it for a moment prior to reaching for it, when beckoned to do so. he holds it, tries to wipe his tears 'gainst the lace of his top by pressing his cheek into his shoulder. for all the good it does. he feels knots in his stomach, anxiety in his chest, but there's embarrassment throughout  :  he'd fall into himself, if he could. crawl away and disappear, if only because he doesn't know what to do when he's the center of his attention like this.  "don't look at me like that,"  he comments, shyly, but rather than lament it, he simply  ...  opens the gift. lucky is he, in all honesty, that he does not drop it. shock catches him the moment he sees what it is.

oh.

oh.

"this—"  bewildered is he, and so very thankful, in that moment, to be kindred. his legs, he thinks, would have given up 'neath the weight of the emotion that floods him, had he not been. it is so rightfully intense, it fools him, for far more than it should, into making him think that he is feeling it, in that moment.  "you  ...  you remembered—"  oh, how could he not, how oft they had lamented it, such is his job. but they tear their gaze away from the beauty of the flute that lay perfectly in that box then, stare at him now as if they are seeing him for the first time.

"this isn't fair..."  their voice breaks, half sob, half laugh, but they have to grip the box tightly, scared are they that they are going to end up falling. so literally, so metaphorically.  "how? how am i meant to stand against you? how am i meant to stand here and fight that i am a loveless creature, weather such gestures of blatant romanticism and pretend i have not myself dreamt of such things? i love you and it isn't fair! god, kine, kindred, is not even what ails me, do you understand?! colombe d'ivoire, i don't know anymore from where the reflection of my emotions originate! i don't know if i have ever felt this way, and i—!"  they do not know what to do with it. it scares them.  "you knew what i was, from the very beginning, despite omitting your own identity. how am i meant to stand here and tell you, then, that i am not meant to be yours when you had already decided? i wanted to be saved, knowing full well that whomsoever answered my prayers would be beyond what i deserved and yet—"  oh, he is falling apart. looking back to the flute, he takes it into his hand then, delicately, as he so rarely does.  "this is beautiful. you are beautiful and i deserve neither—and yet! and yet..."  he is dreadfully close to sniffling, and it disgusts him. so pathetic, then, is the giggle that he lets out, broken.  "une créature dépourvue de dieu, tombant amoureuse d'un dieu. je t'aime. je t'aime si profondément que je ne sais pas quoi faire. que voudrais-tu, colombe d'ivoire, me faire faire? savoir ce que je suis, qui je suis. tu as quand même choisi de m'avoir, peu importe, n'est-ce pas?"

he expects his solemn demeanor is likely not what is appropriate for such intimate confession, but truth, as he does expect they are both aware : is that he already knew. they were not the first to pray to him in hopes of not being forgotten, and they would also not be the first he would have spared, had they ... no, he won't think of that. " in part. " he clarifies, instead, tries in increasingly desperate earnest, to keep the sorrow that swims alongside his love from settling anywhere other than his heart. " i remember, simply. those the world does not, or rather does not wish to. both, and then more than that. i preserve their memory, their lives, so that they will never be forgotten. to my understanding, the world has taken it 'pon themselves to think it is loss, sacrifice, death that i revere. it is not— i think ... " he pulls his jaw tight, eyes narrowing as he looks 'pon them. perhaps it is a sad sort of existence, to some, but to himself ... he offers them the smallest, most sympathetic of smiles. " i think life is a terribly precious thing. and that every one person deserves to be remembered, to have their story told. to know, at the very least, someone is always looking out for them. " the way he speaks ... when he does, it feels as if it is directed far more personally. a promise of sorts, rather than a long-winded explanation of his own eternal life's work.

no part of him could have anticipated the reaction he would be met with, meanwhile : he could have scried, true, but it would not have been fair to him. to himself, as he was, and to his trust ... he had put his faith in him both man and divine, wicked would it have been to have stripped him of deciding his own fate. he'd anticipated a strong emotion, at the most, but that was hardly more than common sense; what, specifically, his disciple then could have felt ... remained a mystery. a talking point caught on birdsong, used to tease the ivory dove then over tea, but no more than rumor and intrigue, for no god had expected the dove to willfully spring from its roost, to spread its wings and discover more than what he witnessed nestled safe within his own confines. but no one was more shocked than the ivory dove, himself : both for the warmth that swelled in his heart, and the way his lover practically clings to him, weeping, wondering.

" omitted, yes, it was a necessary measure in the moment. i always intended to tell you, when the time was right. the rest ... " from cradling their chin to combing through their hair, it'd almost seem as if he were coddling were his expression not as equally tender as the tone of his voice. though the syllables scratch, ache, there is no denying the sweet lilt hanging off every word. " truthfully, the only lie i ever told was that of being kindred. and even that was not original intent, i hadn't the faintest idea what you asked, back when, but it seemed to excite you ... please understand, it has been quite some time since i've been participant in broader society, i had assumed the sense of familiarity would then comfort you, which is what i wished to do. " they may not meet his gaze, but that does not stop him from seeking it, his own kept half-lidded. his heart aches the same it does whenever he retells a tragedy, but it is not tragic to love, to admit to what little he deceived. but more than that, he thinks, he feels quite terrible sorry : their life has been filled with tragedies, both from what they had shared, and what he had seen. " i have lived and died a hundred thousand lives, mon cher. carried the memories through times where they would have otherwise been left forgotten. i do not know why i have, but i do know i was the same in each. the weight a little heavier, perhaps, more than a single quill can write in one night, but my heart has never changed. what i expressed ... what i feel, it is true. in those hundred thousand lives, never had i loved, nor thought to. and then i met you, and i was undone. "

he thinks there is a part of him fearful he is yet being too forward, touching him as if he might break—up both hands have traveled, space returned, to cradle his face in his palms, hold it where he speaks to him with an almost desperate urgency. " summer, mon amour, if there were but means to show you the inner workings of my heart, allow you witness to all it holds, i would show you just how deeply i love you, i would— " he stops himself rather abruptly, gloved hands trailing free from where he holds their head upright, a sort of slow dawning realization falling across his own features as his voice draws to whisper and then nothing at all. if i could show you ... " i can show you! ah— bear with me a moment, please, just a moment, i was saving this for—! "

the moment memory returns to him he pulls completely away from him, and instead, rustles with the inner pockets of his pristine ivory coat. he looks ... frantic, mostly, but also quite excited. whatever it was, it was something quite important indeed. he's rather lucky to not be all feathered still, for with all his ruffling the room would be filled with them flying 'round their heads. " ah, here it is! " it feels like an eternity of looking through pockets that should, by all accounts, not be able to hold the size of the box he'd just pulled out of it—there's a solid minute, at least, when he first holds out the long box with both hands, where there is a brilliant, wide grin to match the light dancing behind his eyes before he gets too shy and it softens instead, as embarrassment slowly, but surely, overcomes him. " a ... gift. please take it. "

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

I DREAM, NOW, OF A NORMAL LIFE WITH YOU ; SUGURU GETO

synopsis; suguru isn’t a lightweight. this is your first time actually seeing him drunk — though maybe it shouldn’t come as a surprise that he’d be the sappy kind.

word count; 9.4k (..... i got carried away ok)

contents; suguru geto/reader, gn!reader (shoko calls u "girl" but in a "girl help" way not a gendered way), written w a no curses au in mind, sugu is a sappy emotional drunk i said what i said, sickening amounts of fluff, depictions of intoxication, reader is averse to alcohol, sugu wants to marry u so bad it makes him look silly, lots of emotions & lots of love <33

a/n; this fic has been ROTTING in my drafts for the longest time but its super precious to me and now i finally get to post it!! @softgirlgonehaywire & @hayakawalove ily ty for being interested in sappy!sugu this is a treat for u <33

the bar isn’t all that far off from your apartment.

it’s a short distance, really. walk straight ahead, until you reach the record store that suguru likes to frequent, and then take a right; a minute or two uphill, and then you’ll be able to see the blue of the sea. once you’re there, all that’s left is to look for mellow golden lighting and descend a set of stairs.

which is what you’re currently doing, popsicle in hand, loose clothes and comfortable shoes on as you wallow in the mellow summer evening. everything is blue — the dark shade of the sky, and your ice pop, pastel and sweet, tasting of pure youth. the hoodie you threw on is a rich cobalt, suguru’s in name but yours in spirit. he only wears it when you complain that it doesn’t smell like him anymore.

humming a jolly tune, you take a sharp turn, allowing the summer sensations to curl around your subconscious. blissed out and content. 

you were so, so bored — stuck at home with no one to keep you company, no one to mumble snarky commentary about the show playing on tv, no one to run their fingers through your hair while your head rests in their lap. pure torture, really, being faced with the consequences of your own actions. after you stupidly told suguru you’d be okay on your own.

he even asked you twice, just to be sure, even told you that he’d prefer you to join him on his night out. and again, you declined; because it’s been so long since he had some time alone with shoko and satoru, and you were feeling a little tired anyways. 

so he gave in. heading out, with a promise to bring back a tub of your favorite ice cream, leaving you with the apartment to yourself. did you come to regret your little white lie? maybe. possibly.

but everything worked out in the end.

a pleasant breeze caresses your skin, brushing against the apple of your cheek, and you watch as peach blossoms dance in a faraway park. cicadas cling to every tree in sight, buzzing a pleasant tune, mingling with the giddy giggles of high school students enjoying their summer vacation. it’s been raining for a couple of days; you can still smell it in the air, feel it in the low tinge of humidity clinging to your skin, still hear suguru’s insistence that you bring an umbrella with you to work — just in case.

but today, the skies were clear, and it’s late, not too humid but not too chilly. and the stars are out, glimmering in that fuzzy sea of mellow cerulean, leaking out like little marbles cast into space. falling down, down, down, close enough for you to see. from here, it looks as if they’re waving. you resist the urge to wave back.

peace. bliss. a nostalgia so vibrant you could drown in it, feel it lick at your ankles like soft sea foam.

eager to scratch a certain itch in your brain, attention span zipping from one street vendor to the pop music blasting from a couple streets away, you take your phone out from your pocket. absently scrolling through your messages, until you get to the ones shoko sent you just ten minutes ago. the ones that brought you out here, into a summer evening soon to slip into nightfall, ones that have you walking to the bar you chose not to join them at.

messages that still have you pushing back a bout of giggles, chewing lazily on your ramune ice pop with a giddy smile.

sho 🚬: come get ur man sho 🚬: he’s drunk. sho 🚬: like DRUNK drunk 

you: …… um.  you: what happened to hi? hello?? good evening???

sho 🚬: no time for that. look sho 🚬: [ image ] sho 🚬: he looks so goofy lol

unable to resist the temptation, you press the pad of your finger against the screen — opening the image attachment, just to drink in the sight once again. what you see is a certain man, slumped over in his seat, cheek smooshed against the wooden table in front of him. messy hair, no longer tied into a bun, cascading down his shoulders and back. from the little you can see of his face, his skin is flushed a light pink, and his eyes are closed, fingers still curled around an empty beer jug. 

like a sleepy puppy.

a coo tiptoes on your tongue, but you bite down on your lip in an effort to stop it, just grinning at your screen with pure adoration in your lovesick eyes. 

he’s drunk, alright. an unfamiliar sight, but not at all unwelcome. because he’s cute, terribly so, so cute that it hurts, even when he’s obviously wasted. it’s almost funny — you know their drinking habits. shoko holds her liquor so well that it’s a little horrifying, and satoru can get wasted if he has more than a sip of it. and suguru?

suguru never gets drunk. he barely even drinks. out of consideration for satoru, maybe, or you. probably both. that’s just how he is; you thought he hated fish for years, because he was always so eager to give you the best bites of the sushi rolls you ordered. turns out he was just indulging you.

so, to be frank — the idea of him suddenly being drunk is a little bit of a shocker. but it’s also kind of exciting, in a ridiculous way. new, fun, just what you need when you’re bored out of your mind.

(or maybe you’re just happy to have an excuse to go see him.)

you: NOOOO  you: MY BABY 😭😭😭 you: what did u guys DO to him???

sho 🚬: satoru and him made a bet 😐 you know how they are sho 🚬: he drank like a divorced mother of four ive never seen something so beautiful

you: …. you: have i told you that you’re both terrible

sho 🚬: u love us <33 sho 🚬: anyway he’s been asking me where u are for the past ten minutes pls come i can’t stand him sho 🚬: he’s crying.

you: HUH???????? you: WHY????????????????

sho 🚬: dude i dont know sho 🚬: please come get him he’s being so sappy that satoru’s abt to throw up

you: ???? okok 😭 you: im omw ig??

sho 🚬: girl hurry he just told me he genuinely appreciates my presence in his life 😐

an exhale — laced with deep amusement — drops from your lips and spills into the summer air. it tastes like a memory from long ago.

slipping your phone back into your pocket, you raise your gaze, searching for a glimmer of goldish light. soaking up the scent of the ocean, sparkling on the border of your peripheral. salty and sweet.

no matter how hard you try, all you can think of is that certain someone, waiting for you to pick him up. your mind keeps drifting back to the way his eyes crinkle when he laughs, the way his hair falls over his face when he leans down, the sound he makes when he stretches in the morning.

you want to see him. badly. you want him near, want to feel the familiar warmth of his presence, want to see him smile and laugh and sigh and raise his eyebrow at your antics. 

so there isn’t any time to waste. you’re walking towards that familiar set of stairs before you know it, shoes hitting the asphalt with a mantra of satisfying thuds. 

and when you step in through the opened door, you’re immediately engulfed by a sense of overflowing comfort. mellow, warm lights, the soft buzzing of static from an old radio, low citypop beats trailing through the air. the bartender by the counter gives you a curt nod in greeting, before motioning towards a certain table. it’s over in the corner, covered in beer jugs and fancy glasses, with three beauties seated around it.

satoru notices you first.

a bright grin finds its way onto his face, and he waves you over giddily, happily. barely contained excitement in the motion. shoko’s gaze follows his, flitting over to meet yours — and you think she mouths an oh, thank god, before taking another sip from her glass. she brings a hand up in greeting when you come closer, and you can’t see her smile, but there’s a crinkle to her eyes; a warmth in them that you’d never miss.

”hey, guys.”

”yo!” satoru chirps, beaming in a way that’s so distinctly him it makes you soften. he looks so comfortable in his seat, with a cocktail you know is non-alcoholic and probably too sweet for anyone but him to stomach. giggling to himself, leaning over to poke suguru’s cheek, with a teasing declaration of your chaperone is here! 

and there he is. 

the man you came here for, still slumped over in his seat, unresponsive. not for long. as the lilt of your voice reaches his ears, his eyes flutter open, in a bout of recognition — even in the drunken state he’s in. an immediate sensation of familiarity creeps into his veins, rousing him from his cozy, half-asleep stupor. 

he doesn’t even grumble over the way satoru keeps poking at his cheek, interest and attention focused solely on a certain someone. you, your presence. 

and when your eyes meet his, he lights up.

it’s precious, you think, how his eyes widen, blooming with genuine affection, so endearing you could kiss him right then and there. his face is flushed, and his hair is tousled, and the warm lighting of the bar paints him in a golden hue. so perfect for him, your star in the sky. 

a smile spreads across his lips, big and happy and warm, and you can’t help but mirror it. 

(gosh, he’s cute.)

with a dizzy kind of eagerness, suguru sits up, palms flush against the table to support his weight. he stumbles out of his seat, paying no heed to satoru’s amused huff of careful! or the rattling of fragile glass.

it only takes a few uncoordinated steps for him to reach you, where you haphazardly lean against the wall, watching him amusedly. that delighted smile never leaves his lips, as his arms go to curl around your waist, big and heavy, his jaw finding its rightful place on the curve of your shoulder. 

”baby,” he drawls, fond and affectionate. breathing you in. ”sweetheart. my angel.”

a flustered puff of laughter slips from your lips, stumbling a little under his weight. his voice is syrupy sweet, overflowing with love and adoration, soft in a way that has your knees buckling. a little raspy. murmured right into your ear, sending pleasant shivers down your spine. 

he’s too sweet for you to handle, really, even sweeter than satoru’s overpriced cocktail. and he smells the same as always; a blend between coffee grounds, cigarette smoke and rain, one that never fails to soothe you. even when it’s tangled up with a vague but vivid stench of alcohol, courtesy of the drinking he’s been doing until now. 

you crinkle your nose, but don’t let go of him, nuzzling your cheek against the side of his head. words buzzing with warmth. ”hey, sugu.”

suguru only squeezes you tighter, content to have you in his arms. finally, his world makes sense again. all he can do is bask in your voice, warmth, scent — he’s just so enamored by it all. almost in a trance, heartstrings dancing along to the beat of your presence, your very existence, that appears to him as something almost angelic. soft and familiar, something that feels right at home when it’s tucked into his embrace. where he can keep it safe.

”missed you…” he murmurs, sleepy, smearing an open mouthed kiss against the crook of your neck. ”i love you s’much…”

a chuckle. ”i love you too,” you echo, running a steady hand over his back. your voice is laced with something teasing, but awfully fond. ”you really are drunk, aren’t you?”

”mm…” he only hums, cheek pressed flush against your soft skin. ”’m sorry…” he mumbles, stifling a yawn. he sounds a little guilty, and it makes you want to coo. pull his cheek a little.

instead, you laugh. amusement vowen into the bubbly noise. ”it’s fine, sugu. c’mon — let’s go home, alright?”

at that, satoru visibly reacts, placing his glass on the table with a soft clink before getting up to stretch. he grabs suguru’s discarded jacket, letting it hang off his arm as he walks over to the two of you.

”i’ll help you carry him,” he smiles, always so dependable. so ready to be of service. maybe a little too eager to carry suguru around like a sack of potatoes. 

a smile blooms on your face, and satoru gives you a playful wink. shoko just leans back in her seat, stretching idly. it feels like home with them there.

”i’ll stay here,” she hums, a faint grin tugging at her lips. ”he’s your problem now.”

”got it.” you meet her lidded eyes, sharing an amused look as satoru tries to coax suguru away from you, pulling at his cheek while he whines and clings to the fabric of your clothing.

finally, he relents, and you look back at the table with a grin. ”see you later, sho’.”

a smile is the only response you get, but it’s enough. it’s her, the same as always, still sipping from a glass of expensive whiskey and raising her hand in a silent see you. relaxed and cool, and so very lovely. 

with one arm over satoru’s shoulder and the other clinging to your hoodie, suguru stirs.

”shoko…” he groans, craning his head to look back at her, even as satoru makes a move to leave. ”don’t drink too much. and watch out for strangers…” 

he trails off, blinking drowsily, a protective tone to his voice. worried. awfully like him. neither you nor satoru can resist the chuckle you indulge in, but shoko just rolls her hazel eyes.

”i don’t need to hear that from you,” she scoffs, tinged with amusement and what you’re almost certain is embarrassment. there’s a fondness to her snark, one you’d never miss. 

(shoko will always be shoko. you know that she appreciates suguru’s concern, even if she doesn’t want to show it.)

”alright, c’mon,” satoru quips, slapping suguru’s back with a grin. ”there, there, big guy. let’s get you home, hm?”

just as you suspected, he doesn’t let you help, doing all the heavy lifting on his own. not breaking a single sweat, flaunting his strength as he hoists suguru up the steps — while you do nothing but follow, a light jacket hanging off your arm. 

cold midnight air embraces you, slathering your cheeks with the essence of summer as your shoes meet the asphalt. satoru smiles, a low exhale escaping him, dusting off his hands. ”there we go.”

suguru stumbles towards you, no longer caged in, slumping against your shoulder with a satisfied sigh. blinking slowly, as you link arms, his muddled senses adjusting to the outside world. a pleasantly blue sky, a sun long set, and a string of lamp posts to light up the street ahead of you. artificial fireflies, watching over the town you love so dearly.

you part your lips, and a soft exhale slips out, dripping with fondness. ”thanks, satoru,” you smile, meeting his gaze.

”don’t mention it,” he waves you off, but you know he appreciates it; always eager to be praised. ”can you bring him back by yourself?”

”yeah, we’ll be fine. it’s close, anyway. don’t worry.”

a hum buzzes in his throat, and his cobalt gaze drifts upwards, to bask in the starry sky. a moment passes, and then he’s looking back at you and suguru; a soft and earnest smile playing at his lips. so sincere you want to reach out, cup his cheek, make sure he knows how loved he is.

”i’ll go back to shoko, then,” he chirps. bubbly and graceful, giddy and playful. always so lovely. ”gotta make sure she stays out of trouble.”

a chuckle. you mirror his smile. ”of course.”

and with that, your precious best friend makes a move to return to the bar, taking a decisive step away from you. before he can get too far, though, a certain hand reaches out to hold onto his sleeve — keeping him still.

satoru turns around. blinking once, then twice, in confusion; faced with none other than suguru, still slumped against you. a little out of it, sleepy and disoriented, yawning quietly, but his eyes are as clear as ever. caring and sentimental. 

his gaze cuts to the bone of things. it’s something you’ve grown used to.

”thanks, satoru,” he murmurs, letting go of said man’s shirt. the words that spill from his lips are straightforward, a little tactless, but overflowing with earnest appreciation. ”you’re my best friend.”

a moment passes. the stars burn in silence.

satoru blinks.

then he sighs, with what you know is nothing more than feigned annoyance. masking his embarrassment, the same way shoko did, the same way suguru always does. your repressed, beloved little losers. 

”yeah, yeah. i got it,” he pats suguru’s shoulder, once, twice. not looking at him. ”you’re such a sap, you know that? geez.”

a grin crawls up to rest on your lips, fresh mischief blooming in your eyes. ”not gonna call him your best friend back?” you tease, a soft tilt of your head.

satoru gives you a glare, playful, one you can’t physically see from behind his shades but still somehow sense. ”don’t add fuel to the fire,” he grins, with a halfhearted flick to your forehead.

before you can bicker further, suguru yawns, loudly, closing his eyes and nuzzling into you. you share an amused look with satoru, until he shakes his head fondly.

”take care of him, alright?”

”i will. you guys have fun!”

and at last, satoru turns on his heel, coupled with a smile and a lazy wave. but suguru calls out to him once more, unwilling to part ways without saying his piece. so sentimental, so loving it comes to him like breathing.

”bye-bye, satoru,” he slurs, voice loud enough for the entire street to hear, tired and honest. raising his arm in a lazy wave. ”i love you!”

”go home already!” satoru shouts, descending down the steps with a flush to his cheeks that you’ll tease him for later. his soft laughter is carried away by the breeze, sweet and saccharine.

(satoru will always be satoru. you know that he loves suguru back, even if he doesn’t want to say it out loud.)

with a faint chuckle, melting into the summer air, you tug on suguru’s arm. ”alright,” you chirp, looking up at him. ”let’s go!”

he seems a little more awake now, at least, trying to match your steps. meanwhile, you do what you can to support his weight; he’s stumbling a bit, but you don’t mind. if anything, his weight is a comfort, your arms linked together like a lucky charm. a safe harbour.

suguru is acting kind of like a big puppy, gazing at you with hearts in his eyes. a little meek, clinging to you, trailing after you pliantly. he’s a little dizzy, still, and he needs you to get back home in one piece. it makes you puff out your chest, stand up straighter. makes you feel protective of your 6’2 boyfriend, all toned muscle and broad shoulders, the personification of scary dog privilege. but he needs you right now.

a soft bout of laughter spills into the air, as you try to ignore his heavy stare. it’s impossible, though — so you turn your gaze to meet his own, and he practically glows under the sound of your giggles, that cheeky smile you’re wearing. ”you okay, suguru?”

his eyes soften. silently, he runs a thumb over the knots of your knuckle, smoothing down your skin, thick fingers intertwined with yours. 

he looks deep into your eyes, and a soft hum of affirmation buzzes in his throat. 

”i’m just so happy,” he grins, with a sincerity that has your heart doing flips inside your ribcage. it flutters, flutters, flutters, in the wake of his unbridled joy. it buzzes like it wants to break out.

suguru has this dreamy look on his face, one you can do nothing but admire, painted over with fluorescent moonlight and pure summer bliss. one that reminds you a little of high school rooftops, midnight road trips, what it means to be in love.

you nudge him, softly, with the arm that’s tangled up in his own. tilting your head, teasing words on the tip of your tongue. ”you know, i never took you for a sappy drunk.”

suguru's only response is a cute little mmrn, steps heavy as he leans on you for support. trying his best to carry himself, not wanting to inconvenience you, but it’s just a little tough. especially when he feels this soft, this grateful — this blessed.

a giddy, dreamy smile tugs at his lips. his amber gaze travels up, towards the little pale dots of star clusters all across the night sky, gleaming like milk poured over rich coffee. then he exhales; a soft, blissful little sound. ”i’m so lucky.”

a moment passes, silently. in the distance, cicadas buzz. with a patient smile, you admire him, the reflection of starlight in his eyes. suguru has this forlorn look, etched into his expression, like he’s seeing something that isn’t quite there.

”i have satoru and shoko…” he mumbles, just loud enough for you to hear. as if he’s tasting the words on his tongue, as if he can’t quite believe them himself. that’s how lucky he feels, sometimes.

a nod. ”they love you a bunch, you know?”

(they do. they’re both horrible at saying it out loud, but you know they do. you know that they love suguru, just as much as he loves them, even if none of them are good at putting it into words. perhaps they don’t really even need to, in the first place.)

suguru mirrors the soft nod of your head, bangs falling over his eyes as he does. ”and i love them, too.” his smile grows. ”they’re my best friends.”

absently, you reach a hand out, brushing away the strands of hair obscuring his vision. and suguru stirs, his gaze shifting until it falls on you. like a moth to a flame. there’s something indescribable in his eyes, soft and heavy and tender and true.

”— and i have you.”

a stutter of your heartbeat, a jolt throughout your chest. his stare almost burns, but you can’t avert your gaze — suguru looks positively lovesick. admiring you with a dreamy gaze, as if he can’t believe you’re real. 

he reaches a hand out; cradling your face with one big palm, the rough pads of his fingers smoothing down your skin so very gently. smearing his fondness from your jaw to your cheekbone, so loving your breath hitches in the back of your throat. 

a soft, content sigh spills into the air, like a prayer that doesn’t need any words. his smile is serene.

”my angel.” 

as the words fall, that peaceful smile of his changes shape, shifting into a big, giddy grin. it lights up his whole face. a chuckle leaves his lips, content and delighted. ”i’m the luckiest guy in the world.”

and for a moment, you fear that your heart will stop beating entirely. frozen, listening to the lullaby of your heartbeat resounding in your ears. 

suguru has always been frighteningly good at flustering you — but isn’t this a little unfair? you clear your throat, hoping to regain some composure. it’s tough, though. your words could never measure up to his, could never flow as freely, but they’re honest. wholly and thoroughly. and maybe that’s enough. 

”we’re the luckiest in the world, too, then,” you echo, smiling, words barely above a whisper. willing yourself to meet his gaze. ”since we have you.”

suguru looks into your eyes. there’s starlight inside them, he thinks, shining brightly, gleaming in the dark. with the hazy filter of intoxication clouding his mind, it’s all he can think. you’re his northern star, his lighthouse. his one and only saving grace.

(you’re so, so pretty.)

a pause. after a silent moment, spent etching your features into his retinas, suguru tilts his head. his expression is unreadable.

— he boops your nose.

you blink. once, twice, caught entirely off guard; and suguru giggles. soft, giddy little breaths falling from his lips like marbles, strewn over the sand of a warm beach. his eyes are crinkled at the edges, and his smile is sweet, meeting your surprised gaze with a honeyed coo. ”you’re so cute, baby.”

silence. you look up at him. 

then you sigh, exasperated, more flustered than you’d like to admit. god. okay, he’s really out of it. for some reason, you still thought you could get a good one-liner in, but of course he had to ruin that by being a little tease.

you grab onto his bicep. gaze fixed straight ahead, giving it a tug. your steps are more decisive now, and suguru follows you happily. ”alright, alright. c’mon,” you beckon, slightly gruff. ”we’re almost there.”

when you finally reach the familiar front door of your apartment, you exhale a deep sigh, laced with pure relief. limbs tired from dragging suguru up the stairs, mind muddled and sleepy and senses practically engulfed by a man still clinging to you like his life depends on it.

after fumbling with your keys and hearing the click of the lock, you take a victorious step over the threshold, and a familiar scent greets you. soothing, comforting, a blend between fresh laundry and leftover curry and blooming hydrangeas. filling your senses with a fervent kind of bliss. of course, suguru’s does the same; intimately intertwined with the scent of home. that everlasting, never-changing blend. 

with him clinging to you like this, it’s almost suffocating — but you truly don’t mind. suguru’s warm, and sweet, and being close to him like this makes you feel at peace. his hands rest on your hips, his jaw on your shoulder, and he adamantly refuses to let go of you for even a second. it’d be annoying if he wasn’t so cute, if he wasn’t suguru geto, if you weren’t so horrendously weak for him.

what you don’t know is that suguru has an agenda. one that isn’t just i want to hug the love of my life, although partially that as well. suguru has a plan, one he’s been absentmindedly dreaming of for the past five minutes; he’s a man on a mission.

but he’s patient. always has been, always for you. so he waits, and waits, for you to hang his jacket up, for you to kick your shoes off your feet. and when you’re finally, finally finished, suguru leans in to kiss you.

— you block his mouth with the palm of your hand.

a moment passes. silent, almost tense. in his stupor, suguru’s mind can’t quite seem to comprehend the situation before him; he doesn’t understand why he isn’t pressing a kiss to your lips, right now, why he’s kissing the skin of your palm. he doesn’t understand why you look so troubled, a faint guilt simmering in your eyes. he just doesn’t understand.

all he can do is blink, dumbly, surprised. a question written on his features clear as day. 

”well, it’s just…” you sputter, sheepishly. avoiding his gaze, a little guilty. ”you know. since you’ve been drinking, and all…”

and it hurts, you think. it hurts a lot more than it should. it hurts to reject him, hurts to see the way he deflates at your clarification. like a big kicked puppy. like you just threatened to throw him out into the street.

suguru removes your hand, gently, holding it in his own as he speaks. those amber eyes are downcast, and a soft pout rests on his lips. the sight alone feels like a dagger to your chest.

”but…” he frowns, voice awfully meek. he looks so sad. ”i wanna kiss you…”

a soft sigh leaves your lips, before you can think to hold it in. oh, he’s being so unfair. guilt clings to your mind, an itch you yearn to scratch, and all you want is to kiss his pout away. but you really, really don’t want to kiss his alcohol-soaked lips.

so you settle for the second best option.

”’m sorry, sugu,” you coo, reaching a hand out to cradle his cheek. he leans into your touch, still pouting, and you tug a little at his bottom lip. wasting no time in closing the narrow distance between you.

the kisses you press against his skin are soft. peppering kisses all across his face; ghosting your lips along his jaw, trailing towards his cheekbones, and settling on his forehead. tiny little pecks, wherever you can reach. your voice is soft, muffled into his skin between butterfly kisses. ”tomorrow, okay?” 

and suguru seems to brighten up a little, melting under the contact, exhaling in pure bliss. he fervently returns the treatment, planting open mouthed kisses all over your face, respecting your wishes and avoiding your lips. they’re a little sloppy, but you don’t mind.

it does make you a little flustered, though. with his palms cradling your face, engulfing you, there’s nothing you can do except drown in his affection, the love he showers you with. it tickles — and suguru’s smile only grows, at the sound of your soft giggles. his cheeks are starting to hurt.

the state he’s in is just a little bit hazy. despite his initial dejection, he no longer minds that he can’t feel your lips against his, disappointment warded off by your smile and laughter alone. he thinks you’re so, so cute, and all he wants is to kiss you forever. 

but you have other plans.

and before you know it, you’re both curled up in bed, limbs all tangled up beneath the blankets, bodies pressed together as suguru cages you in. he squeezes you tightly, hugging you close, practically melting into you. usually, it’d be so easy to fall asleep like this. with suguru cradling you, covering your body with his own, warm and safe. he’s like a furnace. 

but right now, it’s a little tough. you’re kept awake by open mouthed, ticklish kisses pressed against your skin, supplied by the love of your life. it’s sweet, but he’s being far too distracting — as soon as your consciousness begins to fade into the fuzzy realm of sleep, he leaves a sloppy kiss against your collarbone, and you’re jolted awake once more. 

”suguuu,” you whine, dragging his name out with childish inclination. ”we need to sleep…”  

”sorry,” he only murmurs, muffled into your skin. he doesn’t stop, though, planting a wet smooch on your cheek, and then another. you squirm a little in his hold, and he emits a shaky breath. ”jus’ love you so much…”

suguru knows that he needs to stop. he knows that both of you need to sleep, that you need to rest up. that he needs to recover from the intoxicated state he’s fully aware that he’s in — but he just can’t seem to follow through with it. every cell in his body burns with a certain desire, a need to shower you in love, and it’s unendurable. with every kiss, every giggle he manages to pull from your lips, suguru’s heart fills up just a little more. 

your presence surrounds him, like a weighted blanket, and he clings to it with a desperation he never knew before you. 

in the midst of his feverish consciousness, you’re all his muddled mind can think about. the way you fit together with him like a puzzle piece, like he was formed in the shape of someone meant to hold you. like you were formed in the shape of his embrace. with you pressed up against him, limbs tangled with his, everything feels so right.

but it’s so overwhelming. 

you’re so, so close, so close he’s practically engulfed by your scent, your touch, everything that makes his heart burn with devotion. it’s beating so viscerally in his ribcage, stirring the protective instinct inside him; he just wants you to stay close, by his side, wants to keep you safe and happy. wants to make you feel loved. 

suguru’s heart feels wet and raw and bare, fully exposed for you to see. beating just for you.

with the alcohol inside his veins, and the nostalgia of the summer evening on his mind, everything weighs on him just a little too heavily. everything feels just a little too much. every sensation, every emotion, every sappy thought. all of it together is almost too much for him to handle.

all he can think of is you. how lucky he is, to have met you, to have gotten to know you. how much you’ve changed him, changed him for the better, how much of him is directly tied to your existence.

suguru never truly appreciated his name until you came into his life. it was always no more than a simple fact, a gift from his parents that he hadn’t asked for. something natural, that he didn’t question, didn’t think about. 

but you say his name with such warmth.

he wants to hear you say it, over and over again, forever. suguru — in that sweet, lovely voice of yours. better yet, just sugu, a cutesy, silly nickname he could never bring himself to actually hate. he just wants to hear you call out to him, with that warmth of yours, the one that never fails to soothe him. no matter how tired he is, how stressed. how much everything else weighs down on him. 

at the end of the day, he’s simply your sugu. and that’s all he ever really wants to be.

with a hazy filter clouding his senses, coaxing him into closing his eyes, suguru should give in. he should fall asleep, let you fall asleep. but he can’t bring himself to stop thinking about it; he just loves you so wholly. who you are, what you do. as an equal, an individual, a little galaxy tucked into a body made of flesh and blood. no matter what you’re doing, no matter where you are. 

and right now, you’re here, with him. curled up in bed, in your shared apartment, inhaling the same air, exhaling at the same time. by his side, when you could be anywhere else in the world.

his heart is yours. that’s all suguru can bring himself to think, the only coherent thought he can cling to and echo in his head. his heart is yours. forever and ever. 

he makes no attempt to stop the tears from pooling in his eyes, even as he feels them cling to his lashes, even as his breathing clogs up in the back of his throat. they’re proof of his devotion, his carefully nurtured love. growing over the years, into something almost sacred, a kind of faith. something so fervent he wouldn’t dare deny himself of feeling it.

he can’t hold in a faint sniffle, either, just barely audible. one that breaks your heart in two. it aches, aches, aches. suguru is gazing at you with glassy eyes, a sight you aren’t used to seeing — but he also looks so genuinely glad. his tears aren’t ones of sadness. you know, because you know him. 

”aw, honey…” you coo, the pads of your fingers reaching out to cradle his cheek. despite your efforts, your voice wavers when you speak, little more than a whisper. ”don’t cry... you’ll make me cry, too.”

suguru places his larger palm over yours, choking on another sniffle. the sight renders you completely helpless — you want so desperately to stop his tears from falling, but a part of you is too touched to speak. too mesmerized by how beautiful he is, translucent tears illuminated by softly flickering moonrays, lashes glimmering like shooting stars.

all you can do is smooth a thumb right under his eye, wiping away a stray tear with enough tenderness to stitch his heart back together. suguru emits a shaky breath.

”’m sorry,” he sniffles, closing his eyes. nuzzling into the crook of your neck. ”i’m just so happy… love you so much… you mean so, so much to me, i…”

an exhale, a little breathless, tears soaking through the material of the shirt you’re wearing. his shirt. that realization makes him cry even more, a shuddering breath that shatters like glass when it drops from his tongue. 

and then, in a voice so quiet you barely hear it, a soft whisper worth a million words:

”i don’t know what i’d do without you.”

and it hurts. your heart aches so sincerely, thorns curling around your ribcage, because suguru is crying, and he’s telling you all this. with such an honest intonation that you don’t dare doubt him, even for a second. heavy thumps of blood rush through your veins; he’s still clinging to you, sniffling into your neck, and you’re so in love with him that you almost can’t comprehend it.

all you can do is press a kiss to his shoulder, chaste and tender, and hug him just a little tighter. echoing his words, in earnest, desperately trying to keep your voice from breaking apart. ”i love you, too. more than anything.” a sigh, full of wonder. little butterfly kisses scattered across the expanse of his neck. ”you mean the world to me. honestly.”

with a smile against his skin, you hope so tenderly that the soft kisses will comfort him, will stop the tears from falling. 

”my sweet boy,” you murmur, lovingly, because he is. the sweetest boy you’ll ever know. suguru shudders when you press your lips against his jaw. ”i’m so, so lucky.”

with the combined efforts of your kisses, the alcohol slumbering inside his veins, and the tears running down his cheeks, suguru begins to feel awfully tired. sinking into sleep’s embrace, like a sailor lost at sea. comforted by the glimmer of a lighthouse, just out of reach.

everything feels right. he’s safe, and happy, and in love. so hopelessly, blissfully in love.

the exhaustion creeps up on him, tidal waves embracing a shore, beckoning him into closing his weary eyes. a yawn leaves his lips, and he shifts a little in your hold. you’re smoothing down the back of his head, almost protectively, and sleep is only a flicker away for the both of you. with the last of his strength, suguru snuggles just a little further into you, nose pressed up against your neck, close enough that he feels the flutter of your heartbeat. 

”wanna be with you forever,” he murmurs, sleepily, stifling another bout of yawns. his smile is sweet and dreamy. ”gonna marry you one day…”

a moment passes.

for a second, you think your heart does actually cease beating entirely.

swallowing a gulp, you allow yourself the luxury of an inhale — and fresh air fills your lungs. grounding. all you can hear is the rapid beating of your own heart, heavy thumps reverberating in your ears. warmth flows through your entire body.

marry.

the word is spoken so casually, so sincerely, as if he’s said it countless times before. as if he’s repeated it, over and over again in his mind, just to get used to the idea. as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. marriage. something so foreign, so scary, enough to send shivers down every narrow of your skeleton. such a large step to take. 

(but suguru says it with such tenderness.)

”… okay,” you whisper, at last. breathless. ”i’ll be waiting, then.”

there’s nothing else to say. you don’t know if suguru is even conscious enough to hear you, let alone understand the full weight of your words, of his own words. but you don’t mind. 

a soft smile lingers on your lips, as you stroke his hair, mind hazy and limbs heavy. nuzzling your cheek against the side of his head, full of affection. dripping from your hands down to the column on his throat, through his windpipe, down to his heart.

”goodnight, sugu.” you press a kiss to his messy hair, tender and chaste. ”i love you.”

an incoherent mutter leaves his lips, in response, one you can’t quite make out — but you don’t need to. because you already know what it means, in the same way you know that the sky is blue.

(an echo buried deep within his subconscious, voiced without effort, as easy as breathing.

i love you, too.)

the sizzling of a pan and the whirring of a coffee machine form a beautiful morning symphony, bouncing off the walls of your kitchen. to your ears, and your still sleepy brain, it’s a soothing sound — coaxing soft little melodic hums from the depths of your throat.

with such a tantalizing aroma in the air, a blend between espresso and pancake batter, you can’t help but buzz with a mellow, groggy kind of joy.

honestly, you're beginning to understand suguru’s fondness for the morning hours. waking up to his soft snores and content expression was more than enough to give you the energy you needed to get out of bed; all sleepy and relaxed and pretty, with hazy morning sunrays kissing up his bare skin, caressing his messy bedhead. 

a rare sight, awfully precious. a part of you wanted to stay in bed and admire him all morning, but the thought of taking care of him coaxed you into leaving. it’s the least you could do, really — after seeing him so sincere, so open and vulnerable. 

hopefully, his headache won’t be too brutal when he wakes up. you left some hangover pills on the nightstand, courtesy of shoko’s advice: just get him ibuprofen and coffee. works like a charm. are you a little worried about her nonchalance? maybe. but you trust her judgement. they’re a handful, but you love them — even when they’re drunk or hungover. 

which is why you’re standing in the kitchen, engulfed by the morning sunlight, in front of a sizzling pan. trying your very best not to burn the pancakes you’re making, patiently waiting for the coffee to be done. 

in your blissful stupor, caught up with thoughts of suguru and breakfast and forevers, you don’t notice another presence coming up behind you.

two arms wrap around your waist, and a jaw attaches itself to the curve of your shoulder. you startle, a little, jolting at the contact — but then you recognize that telltale scent, the familiar weight of his arms, and immediately melt into the embrace.

suguru breathes out a raspy chuckle, amused at your surprise. 

a sigh slips from your lips, content. ”good morning,” you hum, placing the palm of your hand on his forearm. suguru shifts a little, getting more comfortable as he leans against you. tenderly, not too much weight. he’s delicate like that.

”g’morning,” he rasps, leftover sleep clinging to the syllables. the usual smoothness of his voice is coupled with a deep, rough kind of tilt, one that always accompanies it in the morning. your heartbeat picks up, silently.

suguru smiles. dreamy, giddy, because you just looked so pretty, in the morning light, hair still a tad messy. humming happily, swaying slightly side to side. so irresistible. he’s beginning to understand why you love sleeping in so much; getting to wrap his arms around you like this, instead of the other way around, doesn’t feel bad at all.

he squeezes you just a little tighter, hoping it’ll convey his gratitude. there are holes in his memory, last night no more than a blurry sequence of still images, but some bits and pieces remain intact. he remembers getting drunk in a way he hasn’t since he made that bet with satoru back in high school — and he remembers that you were there to take care of him.

a smile tugs at his lips. a little giddy, butterflies erupting in his chest. he’s so damn lucky.

”thanks for taking care of me yesterday, sweetheart.”

a hum. you smile, sheepishly, patting his arm. ”don’t need to thank me for that. how do you feel?”

suguru smiles. you feel it, against your skin, a chaste kiss on your neck. ”better.”

the low purring of the coffee machine has stopped, but the sizzling of the pan remains. from beyond the opened windows, you can hear the chirping of cicadas, melodic and serene. singing a summery tune. both of you soak in the preciousness of the moment, the fragile silence, before suguru breaks it.

”everything from last night is kinda fuzzy,” he admits, clearing his throat. just a tad sheepish. you simply hum, a low noise of acknowledgement, and he continues. ”i don’t really remember anything… ’m sorry, baby. i hope i didn’t make you uncomfortable.”

your lips curl up into a tiny smile. such a sweetheart — always worrying about you. always so caring and attentive. eager to reassure him, you smooth over the skin of his arm with your thumb. ”not at all.”

then you’re taking a couple steps back, moving from the stove, and suguru follows. you turn yourself around to meet his gaze, his arms still attached to your waist, a comforting weight.

a grin blooms on your lips, a little teasing, and a flicker of mischief shines in your eyes. ”you were cute, you know.”

suguru blinks, before emitting a low chuckle. a raspy little thing. ”was i?” he drawls, as you brush his bangs away from his face. 

”mhm,” you chirp, eyes crinkled as they meet his own. you just can’t help but want to tease him, a little bit. just a smidge. ”kept going on and on about how much you love us.”

hands moving to cup his face, you squeeze his cheeks softly. and suguru lets you, too tired to resist, only giving you a lazy raise of his brow. there’s a sense of amusement in his eyes, and something in you knows he likes the attention. your teasing words buzz with endearment, akin to a purr. ”my sweet lil’ sugu.”

all he does is lean into your touch, allowing himself to melt into the tenderness of the physical contact. even as you pull at his cheek, earning you a very gentle pinch to your side. but he lets you have your fun. you’re warm, and sweet, and he’s so in love with you he’d probably let you tug his body around however you please.

still, your words leave him just slightly perplexed. he’s still smiling with half-lidded eyes when he asks you to elaborate, basking in the feeling of your thumb smoothing over his cheekbone. ”us?”

your grin widens, by a tad, something deeply amused glimmering in the depths of your iris. ”yep,” you answer, popping the p. for some reason, suguru dreads the teasing edge to your voice. ”me, and shoko, and satoru.”

a moment passes. he stiffens, for a second or two, mind processing the words. then he groans, softly, squeezing his eyes shut.

it makes you laugh, soft and amused, and he can’t help but smile along. despite the dreadful realization you present him with. no wonder he was met with so many notifications when he tapped at the screen of his phone — he didn’t read through any of them, but now he’s apprehensive to do so at all. shoko and satoru can be so goddamn obnoxious when they feel as if they have blackmail on him.

he can see it now, in his mind’s eye; shoko nagging him to run her errands, satoru reminding him of his words every time they have a slight disagreement. 

(grab me a coffee. three shots of espresso, one cube of sugar. got it?)

slacker.

(we both know i’m right. don’t be so stubborn, suguru! it’s okay to be wrong sometimes.)

asshole.

(c’mon. you said you loved me, right?

so mean. and here i thought you loved me!)

idiots.

(he does love them. more than anything. even when they’re being absolutely insufferable.)

suguru just sighs, deep and fatigued, already anticipating his doom. ”they’re never gonna let me live it down, are they?”

a giggle slips from your lips, and his heart flutters helplessly. ”probably not. my condolences.”

another sigh. it only makes your smile widen. there’s something awfully delighted, in your eyes, as you cradle his face in your hands. ”well, i thought you were very sweet!”

”yeah, yeah…” he mutters, vaguely amused. placing one of his large palms over your hand, where it rests on his cheek. ”i won’t be doing that again anytime soon.”

a chuckles bubbles up from within your throat. ”aww,” you pout, giving way to a teasing grin. ”that’s a shame. i wanted to hear you talk about how much you love me again.”

suguru blinks. 

then he smiles. a very particular smile, characteristic, one you’ve come to associate solely with him. resting somewhere in the intersection between a soft grin and a teasing smirk. a flicker of mischief shines in his eyes, and you realize your mistake.

you can tease suguru all you want; but he'll always turn the tables on you, at the end of the day.

”oh?” he chuckles, fondly, thumb smoothing over the lines of your hand. his eyes gleam, looking straight into yours, shining with something mildly devilish. ”i don’t need to get drunk to tell you that, baby.”

in a smooth motion, one you can’t help but silently envy, suguru intertwines his fingers with yours and brings your hand to his lips. he never once breaks eye contact, gaze heavy as he basks in your flustered expression, planting a soft kiss against your knuckle. reverent.

”i love you. more than anything,” he purrs, lips still lingering on your skin. warm enough to burn. ”you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

a pause. heat crawls up your spine, and a flush rises to your cheeks. you couldn’t stop it if you tried.

”my everything,” he continues, intent on flustering you as much as humanly possible. voice low and smooth, honeyed and deep, and worst of all; terribly earnest. lips trailing over your knuckles, against every knot, so soft that you barely feel it. ”my entire world.”

”okay, okay!” you sputter, an embarrassed hue to your cheeks, your gaze landing on the windowpane to your right. his stare is just too heavy, too deeply in love. overwhelming. ”point taken. nevermind.”

suguru laughs, genuine and full. warm and amused, deep and real, and you catch yourself thinking that you don’t want to go a single day without hearing it. even if it’s at your own expense.

a coo rests on his the tip of his tongue, but he bites it back, opting to lean forward instead. he trails the pads of his fingers along your jaw, touch like a butterfly, lifting your chin up ever so slightly. then he closes the distance between you. 

in your throat, your breath hitches.

— but he doesn’t kiss you. suguru stops right in front of your lips, so close you can feel his breath on your skin, taking a moment to simply look into your eyes. and despite how flustered the close proximity makes you, you can’t bring yourself to look away. heart fluttering madly, a string of staccatos against your parted ribs.

a tilt of his head. amber eyes gleaming, crinkled and fond. ”can i kiss you, now?” he asks, grinning softly. hand smoothing down your hip, big and warm, teasing. ”i made sure to brush away all the alcohol. or do you still not want to?”

you pause. 

”hey, what happened to not remembering anything?” you pout, narrowing your eyes. the corner of suguru’s bottom lip twitches upwards.

but he only shrugs, feigning nonchalance, a playful glint in his eyes. ”guess i was just that disappointed.”

a giggle flows from your lips. he drinks it in, gazing at you with pure contentment.

”alright, alright... c’mere,” you coo, smile honeyed and sweet. tracing your fingertips along his jaw, brushing a silky strand of hair behind his ear. you take in the sight of him, meeting his lovesick gaze. he squeezes at your hips softly, a little impatient — so you finally lean in.

suguru’s lips are warm, when they meet yours. they taste like sunlight, devoid of any alcoholic flavour, just like he so kindly assured you of. and it’s a little amusing, the thought of him in front of the bathroom sink — desperately scrubbing his teeth, just to get his kissing privileges back. such a dork. 

he’s your dork, though.

suguru sighs into the kiss, smiling giddily, satisfied at last. a sound you can’t help but mirror. he deepens it, ever so slightly, fingers squeezing gently at the plush of your waist. a hum of approval buzzes in your throat, and his smile only grows.

when he pulls away, that smile is all you can see, along with the ever so slight flush to his cheeks. a hint of peach dusting his skin, framed by the sunrays caressing his jaw, highlighting his handsome features. breathtaking. 

before you have a chance to protest, he’s leaning in again, to press one more chaste kiss to your lips. your heartbeat picks up.

everything finally feels just right.

the warmth of the sizzling pan, the fragrance of freshly made coffee and now-burnt pancakes. the light of the morning sun, scattered across the open space of your apartment, splotches of life painting everything in a heavenly glow. the love in the air, all soft and light and comfortable.

domestic bliss. with suguru, who never seems to change, no matter how many years go by. if you could live in this moment for the rest of your life, forever and ever, you’re sure you’d die happy.

and wow, is that a heavy word. forever. 

(but suguru makes it feel so very, very light.)

forever feels a lot more real, like this. cradled in the midst of a drowsy morning, bumping elbows with the man you love most, after getting to take care of him in his most vulnerable state. accepting every part of him, and having him accept you just as fervently. 

just this moment alone is worth far more than you could ever comprehend. 

suguru, with his warm hands, his familiar embrace. your shared laughter, bouncing off the walls of the kitchen as you try in vain to save your scorched pancakes. and his smile, his fervent devotion, coaxing him into eating them even though they’re burnt at the edges and don’t taste even a quarter as good as his. because you made them, for him, and that makes them taste sweeter than anything.

you stare at him, from across the table, admiring the sight you’ve grown so used to; suguru, with his slightly tousled hair, mug in hand and smile painted on his handsome face. drowned in sunlight, pink petals flitting in through the opened window. you don’t want a single day to ever pass without you seeing this. what does that mean, exactly? you think you know. 

it means forever.

(forever, forever, forever. what a pretty word.)

marriage. you think of it, again, let it linger in the depths of your skull, bounce around until you grow just a little more used to it. and it’s a scary thought, for sure. a terrifying thought, even, something so foreign that it makes you nervous. but you truly wouldn’t mind doing this forever — not one bit. not if it’s with him.

and, unbeknownst to you, maybe that promise of forever isn’t all that far off.

maybe it’s only a couple rooms away, hidden within the depths of a certain drawer, until suguru finally gets the courage to bring it out. and maybe, just maybe — that day isn’t all that far off, either.

(suguru smiles at you, from across the table. he thinks you look ethereal, sipping from your morning coffee, blinking tiredly. so sweet and angelic.

all he can think of is forever.)

[hwaslayer]

vivrant thing (jwy) | three.

—SPOTIFY PLAYLIST / SERIES MASTERLIST

—SUMMARY: after getting into a little accident, wooyoung decides to do his sister a favor by pretending to be your date at the company summer party. as soon as the night ends, wooyoung would go back to his usual routine of hanging out with his boys, keeping his distance from committed relationships and being a typical brother to jiwoo. except, the favor comes with more than what wooyoung expects and he finds you occupying his mind more than usual. 

—PAIRING: jung wooyoung x f. reader

—GENRE: (18+ - minors dni) bestfriend’s brother au | fluff, angst, smut

—WORD COUNT: 6.6k

—CHAPTER CONTENT / WARNINGS: cussing, implied sexual content/mature language, dinner w/ yeosang!, feelings are laid out oof, alcohol consumption & slight intoxication, a bit more of jiwoo vs. wooyoung, use of pet names (princess, love, baby girl, baby), lots and lots of kissing, making out, mentions of marking, some dry humping, unprotected sex, slow sweet sex??, wooyoung pulls out 🫢

So, you agree to the dinner with Yeosang but you don't expect how terrible it ends up playing out.

At first, it starts off well.

It felt like dinner wouldn't be so bad, and you enjoyed seeing Yeosang being his usual self from the car ride up to the restaurant. When he pulls into a spot in the parking lot and helps you out of the car, there is a bit of a difference in Yeosang's attitude. He slides his hand into yours as he leads the way into the restaurant and as much as you adore your bestfriend, it feels incredibly unnatural. 

It surely doesn't feel like Wooyoung's, but you shouldn't be thinking about that right now.

He continues to loosely hold your hand until the host brings you to a table near the back end of the restaurant. You didn't think tonight's dinner would be so fancy, but you were in your business casual attire straight out of work; it ended up working out well in the end. You scoot into the booth, with Yeosang on the other side. He immediately orders a bottle of white wine, which isn't really to your liking as you've learned, but you'll make do with what you have— especially to get through this dinner.

You order appetizers along with your main courses, indulging in good conversation with Yeosang as he tells you work updates and how he's being dragged to this really important meeting over the weekend with the board of directors by his team lead. 

It's all good. It's all fun and casual, until it isn't.

Meanwhile, Jiwoo stops by her brother's apartment to drop off some sushi from his favorite Japanese restaurant. It's her way of saying 'thank you' without actually having to say it out loud.

"What now?" Wooyoung swings his door open to see his sister standing there with a bag of food.

"Hi to you, too." She drops it on his kitchen counter. "Bought you food from Sushi Kashiwa." 

"Aw, just say it." He pretends to pout while she gives him a disgusted look and unties the bag.

"No. Besides, I bought myself some food and am gonna enjoy it right here." She lays out the containers and grabs her own. "My friends decided to leave me out of a very important dinner tonight."

"What are you talking about?" He pops open the lid to his sushi container and wastes no time digging in.

"Y/N went to dinner with Yeosang. I guess to talk about stuff going on between them, I don't know." Wooyoung pauses mid-chew, the statement hitting him right in his gut. He's not sure why he's sad— maybe he's right after all. Maybe this just ended up being a temporary one night thing that would eventually wash away.

Sucks it doesn't necessarily feel that way for Wooyoung.

He can't assume, though. Hopefully, you're talking to Yeosang and giving him the honest 'i think we should just stay friends' talk instead of the 'let's just see where this goes' talk. He'd appreciate the universe if it could give him this one thing; he'll stop running his parents' last nerve and will never look at a booty ever again.

Maybe.

"Oh." Is all Wooyoung says before stuffing another piece into his mouth. "Why would you even be there, Jiwoo? That doesn't concern you."

"Anything with my friends concerns me."

"Let them talk it out without your loud, nosey ass interrupting." She rolls her eyes, scrolling through her phone as she also continues to eat.

"I haven't gotten any new texts from her. I wonder if it's going well. Maybe they're gonna explore this after all."

"Who says?" Wooyoung responds a little too quickly, a little too sharply, for his liking. His sister doesn't seem to catch on, though. That's great.

"I dunno, beats me. I'm just taking all angles into consideration."

"Stop projecting. She seemed to be pretty set on her decision at the party."

"You never know." She says in a sing-song tone that irks Wooyoung a little more than usual this evening. "You're right, though. She is set on her decision. I just hope he takes it well." She sets her phone aside. "Anyway. How'd you like the party?"

"Gotta admit, it was fun."

"You really looked like Y/N's date. I had a few people ask me if you two were dating."

"Uh, I mean I was her date? And why would they ask when I already told them yes?" He jokes, just to push his sister's buttons.

"No way." Jiwoo continues to eat away at her food, texting Hongjoong in the midst of it. "Y/N is too good for you."

"No one is too good for anyone. Don't speak on shit you don't know."

"I know her!"

"And I know her, too!"

"I know her the best." Wooyoung rolls his eyes.

"Still doesn't mean you know everything about her."

"Ew, why are you getting so defensive tonight?" He shakes his head, feeling the irritation within him grow the more Jiwoo presses it. He knows he isn't the best man to walk this Earth, but he also knows he'd be good to you. Good for you. He's been thinking about it a lot and he hates that he is— none of this makes sense to him, but he knows he'd be good.

"Don't you have to go see Hongjoong?"

"Once he's off, yeah." Jiwoo sips on her water. "What're you doing tonight? Getting into more shit with Choi San?"

"No, he's actually visiting his parents."

"Hm." She hums. "No booty call coming over?"

"No. Even if there was, you would not be getting that information." She scoffs.

"Grow up, Wooyoung."

"Grow up, Wooyoung." He mocks her. "Says the one who made the wild claim based off of nothing."

"You're so annoying." She tosses her sushi container into his trash before washing her cup of water. Despite their usual bickering, Jiwoo stays for a bit longer until Hongjoong texts her and lets her know he's finally off of work after putting in some overtime. Jiwoo helps tidy up Wooyoung's space before she's waving goodbye [aka flipping him off] and slamming his door shut. Wooyoung plops back onto his couch with the remainder of his food resting on the coffee table, scrolling through his phone. He goes through your texts, wondering if he should say anything or keep silent. He smiles to himself when he sees the pictures you've passed along from the photographer. He sees you've posted the picture with him on your Instagram and it tugs at his heart because not only do you rarely use Instagram, but you took that opportunity to post your pictures from the party— including the one where you've got your hand resting on his chest while he has an arm around you. He was happy to see you happy and comfortable. Having fun. 

You glowed. 

He'll never forget it.

—OLD TEXTS

you: hi! they uploaded the pics from the party!

you: *sends a group of pics at once*

wooyoung: yo goddamn!? we look good!

wooyoung: you look so pretty. 😍

you: 😀 stop !!

wooyoung: i'm so serious, good LORD. 😮‍💨

you: i'm blocking you.....

wooyoung: woah now, hey i'm kiddddding....

wooyoung: not really! but don't block me! i just can't help it!

you: you're too much 😂

wooyoung: can i post these?

you: go for it!

wooyoung: thank you ☺️

He sighs as he reaches the end of the thread.

He won't say anything. He'll let this unfold as it should, but it doesn't mean he can't be sad about it. Cause he sure as hell is and he's a bit anxious. Hopefully, you'll tell Yeosang the truth. Hopefully, you won't force yourself into anything you don't want or feel uncomfortable with.

As for you, the dinner really takes its turn for the worse after you and Yeosang eat away at your main meals, a pregnant silence falling between you two after a good hour of just talking and yapping away about life. You already knew it was coming at this point, you were just hoping you'd buy a little more time [as if you could put it off even more]. 

"So." He says awkwardly to cut the silence.

"Mhm?"

"Did you really enjoy the party?"

"I did. Did you?"

"Yeah. I just—" He looks at you with his head cocked to the side. "I was just surprised seeing you with Wooyoung." You pause before poking at your pasta and taking a small bite. 

"Oh yeah, it was relatively last minute."

"Jiwoo's plan?"

"Why do you say that? Do you genuinely think Wooyoung wouldn't go with me?" You ask, a little offended at the way he sounds cause even though it was clearly planned and arranged, the insinuation from Yeosang doesn't hurt any less. 

"No, not like that— I'm sorry, it came out of nowhere and caught me off guard. That's all." You cock a brow up. 

"It just happened that way. Wooyoung wanted to go and I wanted to go in the end." Is all you respond with, chugging your second glass of wine before pouring yourself more. You really don't like the taste of this white wine either, but you'll take it cause it's better than sitting here without an ounce of alcohol to push you through. Give you more courage to finish the evening on a decent note, to be honest. "I had a really fun time, regardless."

"I saw." He pauses. "I wish you would've at least told me instead of showing up like that." 

"I'm sorry."

"I think it's time for me to be honest and stop watching from the sidelines because I.. really like you, Y/N." His shoulders droop just as he sets his fork and knife down neatly onto the plate. You take the last bite of your meal before sipping on more wine to wash it down.

"I should have told you, but I didn't want to hurt you. Even if I did tell you, it wouldn't have changed anything."

"It wouldn't? Why wouldn't it have changed anything? I thought we might've had a chance." He's confused. He looks like he was expecting a completely different outcome, and that might've been your fault for not telling him right away. But, the moment is here now and you know you can't push it off any longer.

"No. I just.. I just can't, Yeo. I'm sorry." You barely get yourself to respond out of fear. You knew Yeosang wasn't the type to react— if anything, he'd be the most understanding. Though, it doesn't change the fact that you were still scared. You felt bad. You didn't want to hurt him, and you wanted to avoid this confrontation as much as possible even though you knew you needed to face it sooner than later. "I truthfully think we're good with where we're at, and I don't think we should mess that up. I love the way we are as good friends, bestfriends, and that's how I've always seen us." You can see the disappointment growing on his face every second, but he's trying hard to keep it under wraps while he briefly waves the waitress down for the check.

"C-can I ask? You can be honest." You silently nod. "Is it Wooyoung?" You shake your head.

"It was never about Wooyoung. Just us. Well, me. You're amazing, and you deserve the best. You deserve someone who is sure about you and who will reciprocate those feelings to no end. I'm sorry that I can't be that person, but at the same time, I know I can be your friend just like I always have been. That's what I can give you, and I hope you understand." You tell him softly. "I'm sorry." You repeat, feeling the tears brimming your bottom lids. "I should've opened up earlier. I really hope this doesn't change things between us."

"It won't, but I hope you understand it'll take me some time to move past it. I'm sorry for assuming or for— yeah." He shakes his thoughts away.

"Take all the time you need." He gives you a tiny, toothless smile.

"Anyway." Yeosang signs off on the receipt before tucking his card back into his wallet and standing. "Let's get you home."

"Okay." You shimmy out of the booth to head out of the restaurant. This time, Yeosang doesn't hold your hand. In fact, he trails behind you, keeping at a safe distance. You can immediately see the change— how stiff and awkward he's become. You don't blame him for it; he's hurting and you know he needs his space more than anything. 

You can't wait to get home.

The ride is fucking awful. It's the most quiet you've seen Yeosang. The most closed-off and serious he's ever been towards you. His hand is clutching the wheel tightly, but the music is comforting enough to fill the void. You continue to look out of the passenger's window, keeping to yourself until Yeosang asks about your plans for the rest of the weekend. There isn't much going on for you, so that conversation dies quickly. Luckily for you, Yeosang is about to pull up to your street. He stops the car by your building, shifting the gear to park before helping you out of the car. You give him a small, sympathetic smile before pulling him into a hug— giving his back a gentle rub.

"Sleep well, alright? I'll see you next week."

"You too." With that, he walks off, waiting until you at least unlock and crack your door open. When you get a whiff of your candle that you lit up earlier in the morning, you realize you don't really wanna stay home right now; to sulk, to drown in your thoughts alone, to have to listen to the loudness in a quiet space. So, you shut the door again, head back down the steps and walk to the convenience store nearby. You grab a bottle of yogurt soju, along with your favorite chips and strawberry cheesecake ice cream bar— plopping yourself down onto one of the tables right outside the store. You're quick to crack open the bottle and drink away, also eating away at the chips since you didn't feel incredibly satisfied with the dinner earlier. It might've just been all the emotions and tension in the air, but anywho, the chips and the soju taste better than ever. Sooner or later, you find yourself tipsier, cheeks lit on fire, hands clammy; barely hitting the halfway point with the soju bottle. You lazily scroll through your phone as you begin to eat away at the ice cream bar, revisiting those party pictures.

You wonder what Wooyoung is doing, but you shouldn't be thinking about that right now.

"Ugh." You whine and pout to yourself, pulling up your texts to see if Jiwoo can come to your rescue. You opted for listing Jiwoo and Wooyoung as Jung 1 and Jung 2 to keep it easy and simple; except, it obviously doesn't work well in this case when you accidentally pull up the text with Jung 2 instead of Jung 1 while you wipe away at the tears that suddenly begin to stream down your cheeks.

you: oof .... that dinner was kinda awful i feel terrible

you: kinda?! not even kinda it WAS awfullll

you: i'm sitting outside of our fav convenience store by my olace

you: eating strawberry cheesecake ice cfream!!

you: jiwooooooo

you: jung 1!!!!

Wooyoung furrows his brows at the constant dinging of his phone, unsure of who the hell could be blowing up his phone right now. He even sits for a minute, wondering if there's anybody he's pissed off in the last few days [besides his sister].

"Hm." He hums when he comes up with nothing, nobody. He picks up the phone and scrolls through the previews, chuckling to himself when he sees your name pop up on the screen. Clearly by accident.

you: jiwoo jung 1 pls help come to my rescue it was not good! idk if yeo n i will be friens still ☹️☹️☹️

wooyoung: sorry to break it to you sweetheart, but this is jung 2. 😙

wooyoung: also i won't hold it against you that i've been slotted as number 2 when i should be number 1 esp after the party. 🫤 but it's cool or whatever......

You squint at the brightness of your phone, slowly eating away at your strawberry cheesecake ice cream bar. You almost drop the damn thing when you realize you've actually been blowing up the wrong phone, horrified it had to be Wooyoung, too.

He must think you're a gem, truly.

He does, though. In a very good, non-sarcastic way.

you: omggg i'm so sorry wooyoung jung 2 ☹️

you: i mean jung 1 technically

wooyoung: lol no worries, don't be sorry. you okay?

you: yes but no?

wooyoung: stay put.

You cock a brow up in confusion, wondering if Wooyoung was telling you to stay put because he was on his way or because he just needed you to get yourself together. You listen anyway, sitting on the little chair outside of the convenience store, silently eating away at your ice cream with your phone lit on your lap. You completely forget about texting Jiwoo amidst all of this, assuming she's busy anyway. The wind is slowly picking up, cooling the tip of your nose and surface of your cheeks— settling the heat from the soju.  You shiver and run a hand down your arm, hoping the wind slows in between its waves. You continue to mindlessly scroll through your phone, even picking up your game of Wordle for the day. Just as you get lost in thought, a car parks in a spot in between your building and the convenience store. You look up as you bite into the last of your ice cream bar, hearing the muffled bass from the music in the car. Wooyoung steps out in a grey hoodie and matching sweats, a black beanie on his head. He approaches you with a small smile with his hands dug deep into his pockets, crouching to your level as he continues to look at you.

"W-Wooyoung." You hiccup as you sit on the bench, setting your trash down next to you. Wooyoung gives you a small smile, thumb wiping away at your tears.

"Wanna tell me why you've been out here eating ice cream alone?" He eyes your snacks of choice. "And.. a half bottle of soju and chips? I thought you had dinner with Yeosang."

"I did, and it was terrible and sad." You sniff. "Well, not the food. I just couldn't enjoy it as much. I even tried to drink that bitter white wine he ordered just to get me through."

"And you're drinking soju now? Really must have been that bad."

"Bad bad." You pout and he laughs.

"I'm sorry." He gives your thigh a gentle squeeze before patting it. "Come on, let's get you home." He stands, holding out his hand. You gladly take it in yours, his thumb swiping over your knuckles in an attempt to try and warm it up. He grabs the soju and the chips in his other, leading the way to your building. He quietly heads up the steps, stepping aside and letting go of your hand to let you open your door. When you step back into the warmth of your studio, you instantly kick off your shoes and slip into your slippers—lighting up your candle to bring more heat into the room.

"I'm gonna set your chips and soju aside." Wooyoung says, tightly tying your chips close so it doesn't get stale before setting your bottle of soju aside in the fridge.

"Thank you." You set your bag down and let out a sigh.

"Glad I was able to get you home safely." He chuckles a bit, jingling his keys in his hand. You don't want Wooyoung to leave, especially after he made the effort to get dressed and come to your rescue.

"Wooyoung?" He cocks a brow up when you turn to face him. "Can you stay?" He takes a moment before he nods, unsure how he could turn you down with you looking up at him that way. 

So innocently. So delicately. Eyes yearning for company you can be comforted with, need to be comforted with.

"Yeah, of course. As long as you're okay with me poking around and making some food." You giggle and nod.

"Go for it." You grab your pajamas. "I'm gonna take a quick shower. Feel free to get comfortable and flip through the channels." You turn on the TV for him before shutting yourself within the bathroom walls to shower and get comfy for the evening. 

As you shower and get ready for bed that evening, you hear Wooyoung humming and singing a Blackstreet song to himself in your kitchen. After brushing your teeth, you finish up the last of your skincare routine before heading back outside.

"Finally." Wooyoung turns over his shoulder and quickly scans you from head to toe. "I was getting lonely."

"I didn't even take that long."

"It was long. You and Jiwoo take the longest showers known to man." He frowns a bit, making you giggle to yourself. You plop on your couch, now in your oversized crewneck and pajama pants. You're no longer tipsy, probably a little too sober for your liking especially knowing Wooyoung is in your studio. You do find his company comforting, though. You feel bad he had to come and rescue you, but you'd rather be here than anywhere else after that dinner with Yeosang. You tuck your legs to your chest, flipping through the tv channels only to land on Kiki's Delivery Service. It's already 20 minutes in, but it doesn't bother you knowing the movie so well. Wooyoung is still going through your stash of food, pulling out a bowl of jajangmyeon. While he waits for the hot water to properly cook the noodles, he dices up some pickled radish and some cucumbers, and quickly boils two eggs to perfection. When the noodles are done, he sets everything into the bowl neatly before grabbing a cold water bottle and plopping onto the couch next to you.

"What'd you do today?" You look at him just as he starts digging into the bowl.

"Work. Then Jiwoo came earlier in the night with some food from my favorite Japanese spot."

"Sushi Kashiwa?"

"Aw, you know?" Wooyoung smirks.

"Because Jiwoo has mentioned it one too many times." You chuckle. "That's cute, though."

"She only did it cause she was waiting for Hongjoong to get out of work. And to kiss my ass about the party."

"And because she loves you." He fake shivers.

"Ew. Please don't say that again." He looks at you and you snort. "Want a bite? I made it for us to share in case you were still hungry." He edges his chopsticks your way, watching as you shake your head in response.

"I'm good. Thank you though, Woo."

"Suit yourself, princess. I whipped up a good one." You laugh, settling into the couch as you continue to watch the movie. Wooyoung catches you slipping your sleeves over your palms in his peripherals and although he's pretty warm and cozy in your studio, you must still feel cold. He hurriedly slurps up the remaining of the noodles before gulping the entirety of his water bottle down. He lets out a noise that makes you laugh, kicking his head back in satisfaction. "Damn, that was good."

"Glad you enjoyed." You poke his arm and he smiles. "Is this movie okay with you?"

"Yeah, of course. Can never go wrong with Studio Ghibli movies. Unless, you're down to watch something scary?"

"Never." 

"Why not? I'm here."

"But, whatever scary movie we'll watch, it'll live in my head for the next few days and you won't be here."

"I could be, you just have to call me and I'll come. Like tonight."

"Wooyoung." You pout. "Today's was an accident."

"So, you didn't want me to come? That's funny, cause I didn't see another text from you after I told you to stay put, baby girl." He smirks and you shake your head shyly.

"I'm sorry." You continue to fiddle with your sleeves.

"Don't be. I'm just teasing, I wanted to come."

"Thank you. I needed it." You finally manage to let out as you look at him and scooch a little closer. He gives you a tiny smile before shifting his attention back to the TV, the both of you engaging in small talk about the characters here and there.

At some point, Wooyoung subtly inches in and closes off any gaps, quietly slipping his arm behind you. You silently chuckle to yourself when you see him playing it off, acting as if he hadn't done anything to get closer to you. But, the whole thing feels.. nice. It feels safe. It feels warm. Wooyoung really isn't expecting anything out of this— he is testing the waters to see how comfortable you'd be with him, but that's truly it. That's the intention. Just to make you feel comfortable and better after tonight's dinner. He definitely wasn't expecting you to lean your head against him, snuggling up to him as closely as possible. 

"You okay? Comfortable?" He asks softly. You look up at him and nod, settling back into your position on him.

"Mhm. You're warm." He laughs a bit when he hears that, keeping you close. As the movie continues with the both of you watching silently, you find yourself shifting in your position; arm fully coming around Wooyoung's torso. He doesn't mind one bit. As a matter of fact, he loves that you've gotten comfortable enough to do so.

He drops his arm down from the edge of the couch, holding you from behind as the movie continues to play. He gently rubs at your side before his hand falls to your hips. You feel Wooyoung's hand gently squeeze at it before sneaking right underneath your sweater. You freeze, but more so because you're surprised by his touch— not because you don't want him to be right where he is.

"Are you feeling better?"

"I don't know. I just feel bad." You say, eyes still on the TV ahead while you slowly began to relax in his hold.

"You were honest with him, right?" Wooyoung asks as a simple way to poke for more information and get you to open up about dinner. "Wanna tell me how the dinner went?" He traces faint, soft circles on your bare side.

"I was, and I guess that's why I feel bad. It started off fine. We went to the restaurant and we were talking as we always do. Random topics, jokes, going on about life updates. It went downhill when we got our food. It was quiet for a little bit and I knew he was thinking about what to say or how to say it." You pause. "He asked if I enjoyed the party. I said yes, then he asked if it was Jiwoo's plan." Wooyoung cocks a brow.

"What'd you say?"

"I got kinda defensive." You sigh, leaving out the whole moment of you asking Yeo if he thought Wooyoung wouldn't genuinely go to a party with you. "But anyway, I said you wanted to go.. and so did I. And I had a fun time with you."

"Atta girl." He laughs a bit. "And then?"

"He apologized and said he just wished I told him instead of surprisingly showing up. Then.. he laid it out. Said he had feelings for me and couldn't watch on the sidelines anymore. He felt like there could've been a chance, which was probably my fault for keeping that door open for too long." You sit up and face him, Wooyoung's arm still lazily holding you from behind. "I told him that even if I told him about the party beforehand, it wouldn't have changed anything because I couldn't. I liked us the way we were and that we were good as bestfriends. He deserved someone who was sure of him and who could reciprocate his feelings wholeheartedly."

"Then, you didn't do anything wrong, Y/N." You shrug before subconsciously grabbing a piece of lint on Wooyoung's hoodie and flicking it off. 

"He asked something else."

"Which was?"

"He asked if this was about you, a-and I said no." You avoid eye contact and lick your lips out of nervousness. 

"I see." Wooyoung smiles a bit before shifting up in his seat to get closer to you. He leans his cheek onto the palm of his hand, his arm that was behind you is now on the back of the couch— elbow resting on the edge. "Why can't you look at me?" He smirks teasingly.

"I am." You look at him for a minute before shifting your eyes elsewhere in the living room. 

"Was it really not about me, hm?" He hums, brushing the hair away from your face and tucking it behind your ear. "You can tell me, love." He tries to pull you closer by the hand, and you let him.

"Can I?" His eyes quickly shift to the way you play around with his fingers.

"Course."

"Maybe it was."

"Just maybe?" He looks at your lips. "You think that's why you feel bad?" Brief pause. "That you might actually have feelings for me and you couldn't tell him that part?"

"Maybe." You repeat, his lips only inches away from yours. "Isn't that kinda silly?"

"No? I still don't think you did anything wrong, Y/N."

"Really, Woo?" There you go asking him so sweetly again. It's at this point when Wooyoung feels like he can no longer contain himself because you're giving him the answer he had been looking for; straight on a silver platter. 

"Mhm. As far as I know, you were honest when it came to him. What's between us is our business and not his." He says, his tone just barely above a whisper. You don't really know what comes over you, maybe you did have a little bit of liquid courage still running through your veins especially cause what happens next catches you slightly off-guard. You're so sure about your feelings for him, but unsure about Wooyoung's and how he even feels. This could all be a game that he plays, something he does with other women even if he says it isn't.

Guess it doesn't matter much right now. Can't, anyways.

Within the next second, you find yourself initiating the first kiss with Wooyoung; a kiss that feels long overdue. You lean forward and press your lips against his own soft, plump lips, quickly pulling back to get ready and apologize—

But, he doesn't let you. 

He chases after you.

He cups your cheeks and brings you back, thumb gently caressing the surface of your cheek. You haven't kissed someone like this in awhile, but with Wooyoung, it feels.. right. 

Everything about Wooyoung feels right and natural.

He tries to take it slow with you, even when you crawl onto his lap and wrap your arms around him. The kiss becomes more heated, lips bruising from the rising intensity, hunger. Wooyoung slowly slips his tongue in, and hearing a small whimper from you in response only has him gripping your hips harder.

He quickly learns he likes kissing you.

"Been waiting to do this." He says against your lips.

"Have you?" You ask, your tone filled with lust as you continue to peck him with small, repeated kisses.

"Just didn't wanna scare you away."

"You wouldn't have."

"Have to be extra careful with you, baby. You aren't just anybody." The pet name rolls off his tongue so easily that it makes your head tilt back as the desire builds. He continues to hold you close as you slowly roll your hips against him, Wooyoung now kissing your jaw before gently sucking and licking on the surface of your neck;

The column, your throat.

You feel him come to the base and suck a little harder, and you're hoping it doesn't leave much of a mark. If it does, it doesn't fucking matter to you right now— nothing does. Because all you want is for Wooyoung to devour you. To give you everything, to ruin you so good.

"Is this okay? I don't wanna do anything you're not comfortable with—"

"Keep going, Wooyoung. Please." You cut him off. It takes a second for Wooyoung to register your pleading, that 'please' being the one thing that flips his switch. It's not only a want, but a heavy craving. He's got some sort of eagerness to show you just what you've been missing.

"Hold onto me." He says, lifting you with ease as he carries you over to your bed and plops you onto the mattress. He slowly crawls over you, his warm, large hands now cascading up your sweatshirt. Your breathing hitches when he reaches just above your rib cage, and Wooyoung stops when he feels your body tense in his grip. "You sure you're okay?" He presses a kiss to your forehead, down to your nose, your lips. He looks you in the eye with slight concern, afraid of scaring you. The last thing he wants you to think is that he's purely using you for other reasons— when it's definitely more than that.

Wooyoung wants to show you, in case he's bad at voicing his feelings. Cause he can be, clearly. But, he could at least show you and take care of you properly.

"I am."

"You trust me, yeah?" You swallow the lump in your throat as you nod, continuing to keep contact with Wooyoung. "I'll take care of you as long as you let me."

"I want you to." This time, Wooyoung dips forward to lock you into another deep, fervent kiss. His hands are finally roaming further up; Wooyoung letting out a low groan when he finds out you're braless. His thumb swipes over your hardened nipple, tongues fighting for dominance while your hands are tangled in the ends of his hair. You toss his beanie off just as he starts to tug your crewneck over your head and you follow suit with his hoodie. He nibbles on your jaw just before sucking harshly on the skin of your neck. His hand travels down and slips into your pajama pants, fingers delicately rubbing at your clothed pussy that sends a million jolts down your spine. You twitch in response, and Wooyoung can't help but chuckle against your neck.

"So reactive." He teases.

"It's been awhile, Woo."

"And? That's fine, baby. Told you I'd take good care of you." He raises himself slightly to watch your reaction in real-time. "Does that feel good?" He asks, close to a whisper. 

"Yes." You bite your bottom lip and shut your eyes, sighing in satisfaction.

"God. Can feel how wet you are already." Wooyoung feels himself getting painfully hard against your thigh, imagining how tight you are. He doesn't wanna waste another moment, and he thinks he'll lose it if he isn't inside of you within the next few seconds. "Let's take this off, hm?" He hums, hands already tugging your panties and pajama pants down. "Do you have a condom?"

"Don't need it. I'm on the pill." 

"You're sure? I'm clean, but I'll do whatever you're okay with. Just say the word." He asks again to be extra sure.

"I am, I'm sure." You nod eagerly. The pill was mainly to help regulate your heavy, irregular periods, but you'd say you do appreciate it a little more now for this particular reason.

"You're so hot, jesus fucking christ." Wooyoung doesn't say anything else before he's keenly kissing you again, hastily getting out of his sweats. 

Sooner or later, the rest of Wooyoung's clothes are joining yours on the floor; Wooyoung not wasting any seconds reattaching his lips to yours after slipping them off. 

Wooyoung pauses when he sees you fixed on his length— eyes hazy and full of desire. It's giving Wooyoung the biggest fucking ego boost, but that's not important. He strokes himself a few times before lining up with your entrance. He slowly eases himself in, the both of you letting out lewd moans as you both adjust to the feeling. You're tightly wrapped around him and Wooyoung has to keep his composure as he buries himself deep to the hilt. Wooyoung keeps his pace slow and steady; forehead pressed against yours as he thrusts into you. It's nothing rushed, everything about it is slow— so tender, so careful. 

So safe.

"Wooyoung." You moan his name and his brain short-circuits every time you say it the way you do. On top of that, your little whimpers are doing a number on him, but he's trying to keep it together for awhile longer. 

"Doing so well for me, love." He gently bites your chin just as he slightly picks up his pace. He hovers a bit, lips coming back up to meet you in a sweet kiss. He holds it for a minute longer, tongue swiping over your lips as he rolls his hips into you. 

It's intimate. 

It's deep. 

It's raw. 

It's nothing he'd do to his booty calls, no. Everything about those moments are forced and rushed, the end goal having to nut as quickly as possible and get them the hell out of his space.

With you, he's loving every second. He wants to relish in the way your walls feel around him, wants to relish in the way your fingers thread through his hair, wants to relish in the way you kiss him so slowly, so passionately. Like every kiss holds the answers to the universe and you're afraid you'll miss a single detail.

He rests his nose, lips, against your cheek just as he releases a shaky breath, still taking his time as he works his way with you. He comes down to your neck and leaves feathery pecks against the surface while his body is pressed flushed against yours. He turns his head and you've fully wrapped your arms around him. The pace is perfect, with Wooyoung working his hips in circular motions just to hit you in all the right places. He praises you as you continue to moan for him, pretty little mewls slipping from your lips while he tells you how captivating, how angelic, you are for him.

How perfect you are for him.

You find your hips have a mind of their own, working to match Wooyoung's movements. You feel the pleasure building quick at your core, and you know it won't take long from there.

"Wooyoung— just like that, please—oh my god." You sob. While he continues to expertly thrust into you and keep you close, the friction against him causes the coil within you to snap harshly, nails digging deep into Wooyoung's shoulders while he thrusts harder, a bit rougher, to meet his high. 

"F-fuck, baby. I'm about to—" He moans a little louder when he feels you clench a few times around him from the aftershock, quickly pulling out and releasing onto your pussy and abdomen. "Shit—fuck." He pants, finally coming back down from euphoria to see how mesmerizing you look splayed out beneath him; white ribbons of cum painted on your skin. He's completely enamored by you. "Mm'sorry babygirl, let's get you cleaned up." You giggle and shake your head.

"Please, it's fine. Stop looking, you're making me shy again."

"Don't be. You look beautiful." He laughs, slipping on his boxers. "Let me clean you up." He runs to your bathroom to grab some wipes, doing a light jog to clean you up well. You grab your panties and your crewneck after he's done— throwing them on and snuggling under your covers. You fully expect Wooyoung to get dressed and leave [which would suck], but he doesn't. You quietly watch as he shuts off your TV and the lights, going to the bathroom for a quick wash up. Afterwards, he immediately slips underneath your covers right next to you, pulling you onto his chest.

"You're staying?"

"Why wouldn't I?" He chuckles. "C'mere." He pulls you closer. "Sleepy?"

"Incredibly." He smiles.

"I put in some work, huh?"

"Wooyoung." You pout, lightly smacking his chest.

"I'm just joking." He subtly bites his lip. "Can I have one more kiss before we sleep?" You lean up and peck him on the lips a few times, with Wooyoung holding the last kiss before pulling away. "Goodnight, pretty girl."

"Goodnight." You mumble, falling asleep within seconds as you cuddle snuggly against him. Because with Wooyoung, it feels.. right.

Everything about Wooyoung feels right and natural.

—TAGLIST: @asjkdk @interweab @woojirang @svintsandghosts @cheolliehugs @persphonesorchid @mxnsxngie @jycas @cowboydk @heyitsmetonid @ldysmfrst @intaksfav @wooyoungsbrat @hyukssunflower @yunhoswrldddd

[averagewriter-inthedark]

His Reason to Fanboy 🦸‍♀️ | Mickey ‘Fanboy’ Garcia imagine

TGM Masterlist

Characters & Pairings: Mickey 'Fanboy' Garcia x MovieStar!reader (romantic) Dagger squad (platonic), Marvel actors (platonic)

Content Warnings: fluff, slight profanity, pop culture references, timeline events not completely in order | Female!reader (she/her) | wc: about 7k

Requested 📨 yes/no for Anonymous (tagging @eternalsams though cause I know how much you love Mickey <3)

Premise: Little was known about the private life of energetic WSO Mikey 'Fanboy' Garcia to his fellow Top Gun alum. He was a walking encyclopedia when it came to all thing's superheroes and Hollywood's biggest stars. So it's the biggest surprise of their lives when the face behind his call sign Fanboy is revealed after years of wondering who claimed his heart when he was just a teenager.

Note: gosh writing this reminded me how much i love writing famous!reader x dagger pairings. this was so fun and long awaited so big apologies to the person who requested this last summer 🥰🥹. I hope it was worth the wait and I did it justice!! 🫶🏼

----------

If there is one thing the Dagger squad knows about their energetic WSO, Mickey Garcia, it’s that he lives up to his callsign Fanboy. Everyday they bear witness to his knowledge of all things superheroes and who’s dating who in Hollywood. The man’s apartment--or dorm on base depending on where he is--gives away all his interests and pop culture loves. Anyone who becomes friends with Mickey would have no trouble finding a birthday gift. There'd be endless ideas. 

Each room of his home had its own theme. Go to the bathroom and you’re hit with his love for Star Wars. Doctor Who memorabilia coats his kitchen. Then his living room looks straight out of Avengers tower. Throughout the apartment there’s knick knacks from attending a multitude of conventions, including a wall dedicated to signed pictures and movie posters. 

“Damn, Garcia,” Hangman whistles, roaming the vast collection. “You sure are a collector.” The WSO laughs, waltzing to his fridge to collect a case of beers for the squad. 

“My pride and joy.”

“I can see that,” Jake stops in front of a glass case filled to the brim with Funko Pops and figurines. One striking detail was the majority being characters of a certain actress hot in the Hollywood scene. “I see you also got a crush on Y/n L/n.” 

The name sent a large smile on Mickey’s face, filling his chest with warmth and butterflies, though his friends were too occupied to notice. “You can say that.” 

“C’mon, Mickey!” Y/n shouted at him from the sidewalk, waving a hand frantically toward the movie theater. “We’re gonna miss it!” It was a packed house, Mickey weaving through a horde of people after his mother dropped him off, promising to pick the two teenagers once the film ended. Listed in bold letters on the showings were “Spider-Man 2”, along with several others but they didn’t matter to them. They were there for the newest Spider-Man, having anticipated it all year.

Y/n stood with a cross body bag filled with candy, holding up the tickets. “You’re lucky I already got our seats.” Mickey fell into step as she led them inside, rolling his eyes playfully.

“At the very least we’d miss the previews, Y/n.” He held the door open, “not the end of the world.” 

“Speak for yourself,” she teased, thanking him in the process. Together they beelined for the concessions. With a soda and popcorn bucket in their hands the teens made it to their seats right as the lights dimmed. Y/n visibly excited during the trailers for National Treasure, Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, and Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. Then when it came time for the movie to start, she barely touched the popcorn. Leaving Mickey to enjoy it for himself. They shared candy and gasps during intense scenes. 

When the film ended the teens made their way out immersed in a debrief, “Harry is going to be a problem in the next one,” Y/n predicted with confidence, “Now that he knows Peter is Spider-Man, he’s gonna go after him to avenge his father.” The girl threw her hands up, “Which wasn’t even his fault!” 

Mickey laughed, popping a few leftover skittles in his mouth, “I’m kinda sad about Octavius. He had a change of heart in the end.” 

“Yeah,” she agreed with a sigh. They walked in the direction of the Dairy Queen next to the theater. Craving some ice cream while they waited for Mickey’s mom. “I hope one day I can be in one.” Mickey peered at her, frowning at her tone which was a mix of longing and sadness.

“A superhero movie?” 

“Any movie really,” she chuckled, pushing her hands in the pockets of her denim jacket. “A superhero one would be amazing--just because I love them so much.” Since they became friends at eight years old and their shared interest in comics, Y/n and Mickey watched pretty much every superhero movie to exist. Only when they turned 10 did their parents allow them to go to the theaters on opening weekend with supervision. It was the past year they were able to go alone now that they were fifteen and in high school.

Living in California, on the outskirts of Los Angeles, Y/n had always had a desire to go into acting. Begging her family to take her to auditions. Which was difficult considering they had full time jobs. Y/n’s mother a paralegal and her father a mechanic. When Y/n turned 10 her parents agreed to take her to commercial auditions on weekends. She landed several jobs, including ones for well known brands like Coca-Cola, Cheerios, and Motarola to promote their new phone. Children's toys, and hotel marketing. Recently came guest roles on popular tv-shows, like That’s So Raven, House, and voice acting on Danny Phantom. She had her agent to thank for that. 

But she was itching for that big break.

“You’ll make it, Y/n,” Mickey put his arm around her shoulder, the girl leaning in. “You’re the most ambitious, hard-driven, working person I’ve ever met. You’ve got family and friends who support you. An agent who cares about you.” If there was one thing he was right about it was her support team. Y/n’s agent Tanya had been with Y/n for two years and worked endlessly to secure her projects. The two were introduced in 2002 shortly after Y/n had a small role of a young vampire in Queen of the Damned. Her first feature debut, but it was so small she wasn’t listed on the credits. 

Tanya believed in Y/n more than anyone else. She was the reason Y/n appeared on more tv-shows than commercials within the last two years. While getting movie roles proved difficult, Tanya was determined and had Y/n pumping out auditions left and right. 

Mickey squeezed her shoulder gently, adding a friendly kiss to her cheek that made her heart flutter. “It’ll happen.You just have to be patient.” 

If only the two had made a bet that day. Mickey never lost faith in Y/n’s potential. And when they finally entered a relationship junior year after years of mutual pining it only heightened. They both attended University of Southern California, Y/n pursuing acting while Mickey studied aeronautical engineering. While finishing high school, Y/n auditioned consistently for L.A productions, accumulating credits on Constantine (which had her loss for words getting to work with Keanu Reeves), Ugly Betty, Bring It On: All or Nothing, and her personal favorite, X-Men: The Last Stand. Then in 2006 she had credits on Transformers, Knocked-Up, and Freedom Writers which were released in 2007. Those roles would benefit her in the years to come for the connections she made with co-stars. 

Her building resume those years resulted in Y/n getting that big break she dreamed off. One crisp January day in 2007, having just wrapped on a guest appearance on Suite Life of Zack & Cody, Y/n received a call from Tanya. Changing the trajectory of her career forever. 

“I’ve got you an audition to play Robert Downey Jr.’s daughter in this new Iron Man production.”

Y/n literally spit out her soda, choking as she tried to say, “I’m sorry, did you say Iron Man.” Of course she heard correctly, but Y/n being the massive comic fan she had to be sure. 

“Yes,” Tanya chuckled, Y/n could hear her typing away on her laptop. “I’m emailing you the scene--you’ll read for Jon Favreau, Kevin Feige and the casting director. There’s a chance Robert might be there for you two to do a chemistry read.” 

Y/n rushed to her laptop, nearly running into the wall of her dorm when she cut the corner too fast. The *ding* of the email coming through sounded, Y/n sliding into her chair at a rapid speed to open the document and print it out. 

“So you’ll do it?” Tanya’s voice reminded the girl she was still on the phone. 

“Where do I meet you?”

Now if Y/n were being honest, she wasn’t too confident of her chances of getting the role. It was the inaugural film of this highly anticipated Marvel franchise. Not to mention an L.A set so who knows how many up and coming actors are fighting for a spot. Y/n knew her odds were slim. But she was going to give the best damn performance ever. 

She planned to tell Mickey about the audition once she knew the outcome. As much as she loved and trusted him and his faith in her, Y/n didn’t want to disappoint him. Not that she ever could, Mickey adored her and supported everything she did. But since he loved superheroes as much as her, this was important to him as well.

The audition process was a long and painful process. Following the initial reading, Y/n had been called back four more times as the team narrowed down their choices. They did several scenes, particularly the ones with Robert since the character would be on screen with him the most. Each time Y/n read with Robert it was nerveracking, but she handled it well and really put her acting capabilities to the test. The man complimented her after every session to which she was grateful for. It boosted her confidence. Even if she didn’t get the role, Y/n was thankful for the experience and hoped to work with Robert in the future. 

After a grueling month-long process, Y/n received the call she’d been waiting for. From Kevin Feige himself. “We want you to be our Jordyn Stark.” It took everything in Y/n to hold back her screams of joy. Releasing them the second they ended the call. She nearly woke up the entire dorm hall, thankfully no cops were called. 

Mickey was over the moon when she told him the news. Jumping from his side of the booth to pull her up into a massive hug. Kissing all over her face, “Oh my God this is amazing!! You’re gonna be a superhero--I knew you could do it! Holy shit!” They looked like little kids in a candy store, bouncing up and down in a fit of excitement.

Proud of his girlfriend, Mickey dragged her to the nearest comic store. Purchasing a comic that featured her character and figurine. “Will you do me the honor,” he held up a sharpie, grinning at the look of joy on her face, “of signing this for me. I want to be the first person to have THE Jordyn Stark aka THE Iron Lady,” he winked, and finished, “aka THE Y/n L/n’s autograph.” 

Tears formed in her eyes. Both from the overwhelming amount of happiness and because of Mickey’s whole show. People passing by gave confused looks, unaware the girl was about to become the face of a whole generation. 

Iron Man’s release sparked a new era in Hollywood. Marvel Studios got the green light to begin plans for a whole phase of projects in the universe. Reception to Y/n’s performance of Jordyn Stark was well received. Fans and critics praised her, fellow actors committing she was the scene stealer. 

Rosario Dawson, a massive comic book fan, stated in an interview when asked if she saw Iron Man, “Are you kidding? I saw it three times in theaters--I was blown away! And the girl who played Tony’s daughter, I believe Y/n is her name, oh my gosh she was amazing,” the woman talked with her hands, “Every scene she was in had me either laughing, on the edge of my seat, or simply going ‘wow, this girl is talented’. She matched Robert’s energy on screen so you’d think they are a father-daughter duo in real life.” 

Samuel L. Jackson, who would go on to be Y/n’s co-star in future Marvel films and Hollywood projects, said, “Look I don’t say this lightly, but that girl is gonna go places. And to think this is her first big supporting role in a motion picture!” He smiled brightly, “what a talent.”

Y/n was full of excitement, not hesitating to sign her name on the dotted line for a multi-picture contract--but not before her agent and lawyer read over it. The success she garnered from Iron Man occurred rather quickly. In the following year Y/n found herself attending award shows for the first time. Winning Best Supporting Actress in an Action Movie, Best Scene Stealer, Best Duo with Robert Downey Jr. and Best Breakthrough Actress at the MTV Movie Awards. She also won her category for the Kids Choice and Teen Choice Awards. 

Before long her agent was blowing up her phone. Iron-Man 2, 3 and The Avengers were already accounted for and Y/n wanted to lengthy her filmography to prevent being typecast. Obviously she loved Superhero/Action movies, but she desired to be a versatile actress. Countless auditions, but Y/n soon became a staple name in the early 2010s with performances in Tron: Legacy, Black Swan, Insidious, Grown Ups, Contagion, teaming up again with RDJ and Jude Law in Sherlock Holmes. Then in 2012-2014 Y/n added Men In Black 3, The Twilight Saga: Breaking Dawn, Enemy, The Hunger Games: Mockinjay and Interstellar to her list. Working with amazing directors and popular franchises pushed her into international stardom. Plus making lifetime collaborations. 

Oh, and can’t forget being nominated for Best Supporting Actress at the Oscars and Golden Globes. Winning the latter and making Y/n one of Hollywood's most desired acts. Now whenever she appears in a project, the Golden Globe Winner precedes her name.

And Mickey was there every step of the way. He was living his dream of working in aviation, completing OTS and flight school to become a weapons-specialist officer in the Navy. The backseater to the pilot, but just as important. Y/n was beyond proud. Thinking of all those times Mickey randomly gave plane facts or begged her to go to the air show in high school. Anytime she traveled and saw a figurine of a plane he was missing from his collection she got it. Luckily the Navy kept him on the west coast. Making it easier to see each other during her days away from set. He loved his job. And Y/n loved him. 

Maintaining a relationship while in high-demand careers was no easy task. Especially when one’s a movie star and the other goes on classified missions for the government. Add on the fact they wanted to keep their private life a secret to prevent media scrutiny. Y/n worried in the beginning Mickey would view it negatively. Not posting about him on social media or bringing him to premiers and award shows. Like he was some dirty secret. But Mickey, the wonderful man he is, never was bothered. In fact he liked the idea. 

They talked consistently, sometimes everyday unless they were occupied with work. Y/n kept him updated on every audition. Sharing the excitement with him each role she landed and comforted by his voice when rejected. And while he didn’t go to the premieres, Mickey was at every opening weekend for her movies. Dragging his friends along each time. It’s no surprise he earned the callsign Fanboy for his endless passion for movies. Specifically the superhero ones. While drunk the first weekend in flight school he gave the entire lore of the current MCU projects. To anyone he would just be labeled a superfan. Unaware of the true reason behind his love for the MCU. 

The mid-to-late 2010s did not disappoint. Y/n’s contract for the MCU extended as Jordyn Stark became a prominent figure in the franchise. And with her strong chemistry and bonds, Y/n collaborated with several of her Marvel co-stars in projects outside of the MCU. Jeremy Renner in Arrival, working with Denis Villenueve again starring in his Enemy and Sicario. Brie Larson in Room, Tom Hiddleston in Crimson Peak. Both of whom, with Samuel L. Jackson, starred in Kong: Skull Island with Y/n. She worked with Tessa Tompson in Annihilation--who would go on to cite inspiration from Y/n’s performance in MIB when she joined the franchise in 2019. Then after working with him in Men in Black 3, Y/n teamed up alongside Josh Brolin in Sicario, Deadpool 2, and eventually parts 1 & 2 of Denis’ adaptation of Dune. 

“Oh she’s one of my favorite people to work with,” Josh said during the press tour for Endgame after the interviewer mentioned all the times the two collaborated. “I had first seen her in Freedom Writers back in 2007 and thought she was just spectacular. Then of course in Iron Man, what can I say,” he shrugged while beaming, “It’s because of her and Downey that we have the MCU in the first place. They really set it in motion and to capture that feeling of, ‘this is going to be something’ so early on is incredible.” Josh crossed his legs, grinning wide as he added, “I love working with Y/n, I’ll say yes to any project if she’s attached and I’m excited for this next thing we got going with Denis after this.”

Besides movies Y/n continued to land jobs on shows whenever she was back in L.A. Tanya, her agent with an iron fist, booked her guest appearances on The Good Place, Black Mirror, Hannible, and The Americans. Her gig on Daredevil stirred major discourse in the Marvel community. Especially after it was announced years later the MCU would be buying the rights to the Netflix Marvel productions. In 2017 she had a recurring role as part-time companion to the 12th Doctor on Doctor Who. Becoming a fan favorite, the actress was constantly asked by fans and reporters if she had plans to return for the upcoming 60th Anniversary special. Y/n enjoyed her time in England and met up with several friends. Christopher Nolen, in fact, had called her up with the offer of a role in his upcoming work, Tenet. 

How could she pass that up?

2019 from the start was going to be an interesting year for the actress. At the height of her career Y/n felt the train was non-stopping. Traveling around the world. Press tours and interviews. Finding time to decompress was a task in itself. In between projects Y/n visited Mickey at his base in Northern California. Just like old times they’d go to the movies together. Only in disguise to hide from fans and the paparazzi. Sometimes they’d see her movies--usually at Mickey’s request, but Y/n always felt weird watching herself on screen. She’d think after over fifteen years in the industry she’d be used to it, but nevertheless she’d tend to think, ‘I could’ve done that better,’ with every scene. 

By September of that year Y/n was gearing up for a major project with longtime friend and collaborator, Denis Villenueve. Endgame had taken over the globe, concluding 10 years of buildup between characters and storylines. Tears upon tears were shed at the premiere. Unsure of what Marvel had planned for Jordyn Stark, Y/n prepared for the next chapter in her career. On top of Endgame she’d been in Greta Gerwig’s Little Women and the rom-com, Isn’t It Romantic. She’d signed on for a three-picture deal with Deadpool, but now he was also going to join the MCU, so the future of her character was in question. Ryan, however, assured her she’d remain in the universe, already texting plans of potential dialogue and jokes. 

Then there were countless interviews and promos.

“Hi, I’m Y/n L/n!” her excited tone was directed to the camera, sitting criss crossed on a pastel purple fabric that lifted into the backdrop. “And I’m here with Buzzfeed to answer some questions sent in from Twitter and play with puppies.” She rubbed her hands together, “Bring them in!”

Dream come true if she were being honest. Surrounded by tiny four-legged creatures that caused her heart to sour. Answering the questions was actually the difficult part, pulling the slips of paper from the bowl and reading aloud, ‘What has been your favorite role to play?’

“This is probably obvious,” her laugh was light and genuine, “but it has to be the one, the only, the absolute icon herself, Miss. Jordyn M. Stark.” Y/n visibly awed as a beagle pup climbed into her lap. “Anyone who knew me growing up--.” she instantly thinks of Mickey, smile widening, “knows my love for superheroes and comics in general. I was always at the movies opening weekend, sometimes even opening night, to watch the newest release. Getting to play Jordyn Stark has been an absolute dream come true. Not only has it fulfilled a longtime aspiration of wanting to play a superhero, but it’s opened the door to so many opportunities,” she points out the obvious, “she put me on the map. It’s crazy to think it’s been over a decade since I brought Jordyn to life on the big screen and until Marvel lets me know what’s next for her, it’s a bittersweet end to an amazing chapter in my life.”

‘What’s been the most challenging part of your career?’

Y/n thinks for a moment, petting the husky pup biting her shoelaces, “I think having to migrate from what my life was like before booking Jordyn--which is ironic considering that’s what every actor's goal is. To get that big break that shoots them into stardom if you say…” her hands move to emphasize her point. “Going from a freshman in college working a part-time job at a hotel and getting tiny gigs on L.A productions,” she lifts her left hand up, then her right, “to the train never reaching its stop…it was a big shift. I definitely was the type of actor calling up co-stars with questions like, ‘is it always like this?’” she ends it with a chuckle, “I think I managed it well, but I still think about it from time to time.”

‘Favorite actor/actresses to work with?’

She doesn’t hesitate, “Downey of course, that’s my ride or die. His name on my phone is literally, ‘Work Father/Iron Dad’.” She laughs with the crew, “And Josh Brolin--love that man so much. I’ll actually be seeing him soon and I’m excited to catch up.” A pup barks for attention and Y/n lifts him in her arms, “I love working with Tessa Tompson. She and I got close on set during Avengers and I gave her advice on joining the Men In Black family. If there’s one actress I’d love to work with again it would be Viola Davis.” Y/n clutches a hand to her chest, “We had to do so many scenes over because I could not stop staring at her in awe and would miss my cue or forget my line. Ah! I was so embarrassed--but she was great about it and I freakin’ love her. I really really adore Keanu Reeves--in fact,” a wink is sent to the camera, “I might actually have some exciting news to share soon regarding a certain action franchise he’s in.” Seconds after the interview was released Twitter was buzzing. Excited about the potential of Y/n joining the John Wick series.

‘Is there another superhero, or possibly villain, you’d be interested in playing on the big screen?’

“Ooo I like this question,” Y/n grins, clapping a bit only to have the puppy in her lap playfully take a bite at her fingers. “As I mentioned I love comic books, so any chance to play a character in one I’m taking. If I had to choose….” she scratches her chin before smirking, “Poison Ivy is one of my favorites from DC--if I were to play her alongside Margot Robbie’s Harley Quinn I think that would be so iconic. I’d love to play a villian/anti-hero in general,” she shrugs nonchalantly. “ The closest I got to playing one was Shock in Daredevil. Every other character in a superhero setting I’ve done has been heroes. There’s so many villains in X-Men I think are intriguing--Dark Phoenix, Fatale, and Copycat. But for sure Poison Ivy is my top choice.”

‘Do you have any advice on romance?’

The question fills Y/n with heat, giggling under her breath which the camera catches. “I don’t think I’m the best to answer this question, because when it comes to romance I just wing it--,” her hands raise in defense, “which had worked to my advantage.” The topic of relationships was rare for Y/n. No surprise there since she’s been known to keep her private life private her entire career. Not to mention she’d been with Mickey for half her life. “My partner on the other hand is very romantic. He loves to plan dates, surprise me with my favorite candy, and will send memes at the most random times of the day because they remind him of me. He’s not in the industry,” she is quick to point out, giving viewers a first time look of her personal life, “but he knows a lot and is my biggest supporter. I love him dearly.”

The video went viral on twitter and, as expected, people had a lot to comment on the clip of Y/n’s love life. 

@/Lokidarling: awed so many times watching @/SuperY/n talk about her partner. I hope to love someone like that one day.

@/TheDoctorsWife: So we can all agree Y/n L/n’s partner is the luckiest man on the planet. 

@/MTV: currently sobbing that our wife @/SuperY/n is off the market.

@/Slick_like_AgentK: @/SuperY/n heard the rumors about her and Sebastian Stan and said ‘NOT TODAY!’

 In the weeks leading to fall Y/n made plans to read Dune at Denis’ request. Had auditions lined up for Succession, Ghostbusters: Afterlife, and The School for Good & Evil. And desperately needed time with her fiance. The two recently engaged following their 30th birthday. 

Technically they were legally married under California’s common law. They’d been together since 16 and while no rings were on their fingers, they had assets. Including cars, apartments, and dogs. Still they wanted a wedding and proper marriage documents. Both agreed to sign each other's prenup. A scene almost comical when they approached both their lawyers, who along with their families and Y/n’s agent knew of their relationship. 

Admittedly, the engagement was a result of upcoming events. Ever since Mickey informed her of his orders to return to Top Gun for a classified mission Y/n had been stressed. Thoughts plagued her mind of the dangers Mickey could face. Not just the mission but the training itself. She’d heard of incidents of technical malfunctions in the air that led to someone’s death. The thought of Mickey hurt or worse, dead, in the line of duty was her worst nightmare. And since she was not his wife, medical professionals were required to not share any information of his status if he were admitted. 

So before he shipped out, they did what the typical military couple does on a time crunch: they went to the courthouse. 

Did Y/n’s publicist bribe and threaten to sue the official if TMZ got word? Only God bore witness to that interaction. 

By the grace of a higher spirit Mickey came home to her. They had little to no contact while he was off shore so the second he called her up saying he was back in Fightertown Y/n was packing a bag. Speeding down the next morning. 

Their time together was private, and unbeknownst to both it would be the last. In a sense that is. 

Because they pulled off the impossible, Mickey and the rest of the Dagger Squad were declared an official strike squad for the Pentagon, basing the team at Fightertown. A good thing for the couple. Now instead of a four-hour drive it was cut down to just over two hours. 

“How long will you be gone?” He brushed his fingers down the length of her arm, the two cuddled on the couch watching The Bachelorette. 

“A few months,” was her reply, nibbling on a twizzler. Sighing, she nuzzled against his touch, not wanting to think about the long flight to Budapest ahead of her. She’d planned to use that time to read Dune before her first day on set. “Maybe less if all goes well. How long will you be offshore?” Y/n referred to his pending mission with the Dagger Squad. She felt him shrug against her.

“I’d say no more than a couple weeks. Rooster is team leader and Mav’s supervisor. It’ll be a piece of cake.”

Tilting her head up to look at him, Y/n smiled, “I want to meet your friends. They sound like great people.”

“They are,” Mickey grinned, matching her gaze, “You’d love them--but I have to warn you they can be a handful. Especially Javy.” He laughed as the memory popped in his head, “It’s amazing we can get stuff done at times.”

Y/n thought for a moment, laying her head back on his shoulder, “Maybe when I get back we can talk about going public. What do you think?” her tone was nervous, butterflies in her stomach for his reaction. This was the first time in a while the idea of disclosing their relationship came up. And considering they were now legally married, keeping it secret was harder by the day.

Mickey tightened his hold around her, pressing a kiss to her temple. It made her instantly relax, “Whatever you want, mi amor.” He smiled at her sigh of relief, “You know I won’t object--so long as you’re sure about it.”

“I am,” she doesn’t hesitate, “we’ve kept it hidden for so long--which I’m amazed by with all the times we’ve gone out.” The fact her disguises worked made her laugh any time she thought about it. “Everyone at Marvel pretty much had their suspicions that I was in a serious relationship. Never said anything, which I’m grateful for. But I want to share you with the world,” leaning back up, Y/n cups his cheek, stroking his jaw followed by a sweet kiss to the lips, “because you are my world.”

If only there was a camera secretly concealed in Mickey’s apartment the day his closest friends discovered the secret he’d been harboring. It happened unexpectedly, completely taking them both off guard. 

Wanting to surprise Mickey after months away filming, Y/n arrived in San Diego with their favorite take out in hand and headed straight to his apartment. As she was taking the items from her car she noticed a man with a very large camera across the street. 

Pointing the lens straight at her.

“Fuck,” was the first word out of her mouth, beginning to grab things in a rush.

“Y/n! Y/n over here!” 

Preparing herself, Y/n put on a brave face and turned on her heel. “Hello!” she smiled and waved, seeing the pap had moved closer but still kept his distance. “All I ask is please don’t take photos of my license plate, if you don’t mind.” Running into paparazzi while driving her own car always brought fear. Many celebrities had unfortunately dealt with fans showing up to their homes due to their license plate being leaked. Y/n tried her best to prevent that whenever she could.

Thankfully the gentleman was nice, waving a hand in return. “No problem!” He continued snapping pictures as she walked, following behind several paces. When she got inside, without her usual disguise because she was in a rush, Y/n caught the stunned expression of the doorman and receptionist. ‘Cat’s out of the bag.’

Ruffling for her key once in the elevator, Y/n shot a quick text to her agent and publicist, ‘sooooo we might have a problem…although it's not the worst if we’re being real.’ Quickly putting her phone back in her bag to not see the incoming replies--to spare herself the stress--Y/n hurried to the apartment. Not even giving Mickey a warning before she busted inside only to shock herself with the discovery of people inside.

“Oh my,” she said aloud, hearing the sound of someone dropping their phone followed by several gasps and a ‘what the fuck?’.

Mickey, however, was jumping from his seat, “Baby!” he shouted in glee, rushing to encompass her in a massive bear hug. Completely oblivious to the fact his friend's jaw dropping reactions behind him. “When did you get it? Just now? I thought you were coming on Monday!” 

Wrapping her arms around him, Y/n remembers why she was there in the first place. “I wanted to surprise you,” lips meet her cheek. “I brought Sambino’s.”

Mickey moans like he just won the lottery, cupping her face, “You are a living angel. How did I get so lucky?” 

Smirking, Y/n hands him the bag as they untangle and replies, “You didn’t make fun of me for being the only girl in our third grade class who liked comics.” She scrunches her nose when he ‘boops’ it, followed by a quick kiss to the lips. 

By now the group taking up the entire living room had stood up, congregating in the kitchen. All wore matching expressions: flabbergasted, awe, and pure confusion. The man closest to Mickey who towered over everyone spoke first.

“Garcia,” Payback choked out a laugh, wrapping his head around the fact he just witnessed his partner kiss THE Y/n L/n. His hand waved in their direction, “When you said you and your highschool sweetheart preferred to keep a low profile…her being the actress you’re obsessed over was not at all what I had in mind.”

Jake scoffed, “speak for yourself, I thought he was bullshitting us about having a high-school sweetheart,” at Mickey’s look of offense he raised his hands in defense, “What? You hardly ever spoke of her and quite frankly--” hands wave around the place, “you have no pictures whatsoever.” 

“Oh I do,” The WSO winds an arm over Y/n’s shoulder, to which she leans into. “Just they’re in photo albums and kept in a safe place. Away from prying eyes.” A playful smack hits his chest, Y/n rolling her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Javy cuts in with a confused chuckle. “Are we just going to ignore the fact we’re in the presence of an A-list actress--who is dating our Fanboy.”

Bob gives a friendly smile, “that makes sense why he’s always talking about the MCU and seems to know the direction it’s going before we do.” The fellow WSO then adds after chucking, “it’s because you’re really a big fan of Y/n.”

Rooster belts out a laugh, “Yo that’s kinda ironic. Fanboy dating his celebrity crush he never shuts up about. I couldn’t have predicted that at all.”

“Dating is putting it lightly,” Y/n finally speaks up, face full of amusement. Placing a hand on Mickey’s chest, their attention instantly goes to the ring on her finger. 

“Well shit,” Jake whistles, causing Nat to nudge him with her elbow, though she matched his stunned expression.

“Damn, Garcia!” Javy goes to dab him up. Reuben does the same while saying, “Congrats man!” 

“I know we may look like we’re calm,” Natasha chuckles, catching Y/n’s attention which makes her become nervous. “But I think I can confidently say for all of us we're freaking out inside--at least I know I am.” the pilot blushes, stunned to be talking to one of her favorite actresses of all time. The previous night she literally sat down to watch How to Get Away With Murder. Particularly the season Y/n was a recurring character on. 

The squad knew Mickey grew up in the same town as Y/n after he mentioned the high school he attended in Orange County. It had been the first time they hung out at his apartment where they saw his entire collection--and pretty much shrine--dedicated to his favorite franchises. Following Jake’s comment of Mickey’s little ‘crush’, the WSO casually said, “Yeah, you can say that. We actually went to high school together.” This was then followed by Mickey whipping out his sophomore year book to show proof. Ever since the squad was envious and sometimes tried to ask questions but were brushed off.

But to discover the two were married? Now that was unexpected.

Once everyone departed after several hours of giving detailed accounts of their lives--plus mentioning to Mickey a Pap had spotted her and the likelihood of the internet discovering their relationship--,Y/n let out a heavy breath, unable to fight the grin off her face. Giggling when Mickey gave her a look of ‘What did you think?’ “That was fun--Ah!.” A squeal escaped her as he picked her up, spinning them in a circle.

“Been wanting to do that since you walked through the door,” he brought her into a passionate kiss, setting her down but keeping their chests pressed together.

“Why didn’t you?” she teased, kissing him again while combing her fingers through his short hair. A blush rose on his cheeks.

“Wasn’t sure if you’d be okay with it.”

“I wouldn’t have minded,” she spoke with honesty, “but I understand. We were both surprised. I wasn’t expecting an audience--probably should’ve sent you a heads up.” Mickey shrugged, swaying them side to side.

“Honestly I’m glad you didn’t,” a light laugh escaped him, picturing his friends' faces once again. “If there was one way I was going to break the news to the squad that I'm married to the woman I keep dragging them to the movies to see, it would be like that.” 

Y/n broke into giggles, thinking to all those times Mickey sent her photos of him and his friends in the theater with captions like, ‘You already know what’s going down.’ ‘Jake and Javy are trying to bet who would pull you if they got the chance.’ ‘Wish you were here…so I could steal your sour patch kids.’ 

“Which, speaking of….” Mickey stepped back a bit, hands landing on her waist with eyes full of wonder and question. “How do you think we go from here? Now that the whole world is about to know about us?”

Y/n smiled brightly as she pictured the future. Moving her arms to wind around his neck, feeling her belly fill with warmth and happiness. 

“I think….it’s time we plan that wedding.” 

E! News reported that evening, “It looks like Bruce Wayne isn’t the only superhero who’s good at hiding information--tonight Golden Globe winning actress Y/n L/n has confirmed via Instagram her marriage to longtime partner, Naval Weapons Officer Lieutenant Mickey Garcia. Turns out the two have been in a relationship since they were teenagers--sixteen to be exact! They officially became a couple in 2005 as juniors in high school and have kept it hidden from the limelight. Wow! Talk about a well kept secret. 

“The news came following reports of Y/n spotted in San Diego several times outside of Garcia’s apartment complex. Photos then surfaced on Twitter of several occurrences where fans have speculated seeing the two in public. Cozying up at movie theaters, enjoying a weekend getaway to Hilton Head, and internet sleuths have even found an instagram account they believe is run by L/n strictly for close friends and family. Former classmates of the 30-year-old actress have come out saying they remember the two together like peas in a pod. We even have a photo someone shared of the young couple attending their high school prom. Y/n revealed in the summer of 2019 she’d been in a committed relationship, but has never given details until now.

“Y/n L/n first got her big break in Hollywood at eighteen years old when she was casted as heroine Jordyn Stark opposite Robert Downey Jr. in Iron Man. After years of small supporting roles and starring in popular commercials, the now critically acclaimed actress has appeared in several blockbuster films including Black Swan, Interstellar, La La Land and most recently Greta Gerwig’s Little Women. Besides Marvel, Y/n has been part of multi-billion dollar franchises--Men In Black, The Twilight Saga and The Hunger Games just to name a few. Then in 2016 she won the Golden Globe for Best Supporting Actress for her portrayal as DEA Agent Molly Coleman in Denis Villenueve’s Sicario. Coming down from the high of Marvel Studios record breaking release of Avengers: Endgame, Y/n recently wrapped on the upcoming sci-fi production of Dune--her fourth collaboration with Denis and has an ensemble cast with names like Timothee Chalamet, Zendaya, Rebecca Fergason, and Josh Brolin.

“In her instagram post--featuring several photographs of the couple over the years starting from when they were children to the most recent of their courthouse ceremony--Y/n thanked Mickey for his continued love and support of her, remaining her quote “cheerleader and shoulder to cry on as I progressed through this wild journey of playing dress up on the big screen. You never lost faith in me. You stood by my side, first as my best friend, then as my boyfriend, and now as my life partner. I am forever grateful for you, Mickey Garcia. And while the Navy may have given you the name, It’s an honor to be your reason to fanboy.”

..........

TGM Tag List: @avaleineandafryingpan , @caitsymichelle13 , @poppyalice2001 , @cutelittlepotatofry, @luckyladycreator2 , @americaarse , @elenavampire21 , @back-tooo-black, @wildellaa , @artemissunn , @pinkpantheris , @kmc1989

[notiddygothgf]

1. Arrival in Tokyo

★ pairings: aki hayakawa x fem reader

★ ❝ Captain? Should I be calling you sir? ❞ ❝ Only if you want to. ❞

★ c.w.: aki being sexy a f (more content warnings and tags)

★ a/n: CHAPTER ONE IS UP AND RUNNINGGGGGG!! im so excited bc ive been sitting on this fanfic all fking summer like when i tell u i havent been able to focus on anything else. i have not known peace. ANYWAY im trying smth new w this story bc it was supposed to be a oneshot but uh... now its at 150 pages on google docs so erm... anyway! updates should flow quixker now that i have 90% of it written!! comment and let me know all of ur thoughts everywhere omg i love reading ur remarks bc u guys r so funny on my other ffs. ENJOY POOKIES! i love yall!!

★ w.c.; 4.3k

shameless ; chapter index

"SO YOU'RE LEAVING ME because the Tokyo division needs backup?" 

"I'm not leaving you," You sighed, though a playful lilt and a smirk followed your sarcastic remark. You and your husband were discussing work-related matters over a sushi dinner – your favorite. Perks of being married to your work partner. "I'm being summoned. I won't be long. Promise."

Your husband frowned, brows knitting together. His brown hair was tied back into a bun, baby hairs licking at his forehead, his cheeks. Tanimoto Yoshiro was a man of many virtues, but patience was not one of them. With a sigh, he began to toy with his salmon roll, prodding it with the end of his wooden chopsticks. "One whole week without that sexy ass of yours... What will I do?"

Your left eye twitched – slightly, hardly noticeable by the naked eye. You, for one, wouldn't miss the sex. It was, for lack of a better word... unfulfilling. It would get better over the years, you were sure of it. The two of you had only had the last few years to practice, after all. You wanted to wait until marriage (With him. You were no virgin by any stretch of the word.).

It was unfair of you to take your sexual frustrations out on him. It had been a tiring week for the both of you, is all. You barely had time for sit down meals like this anymore – whatever hanky-panky the two of you ever did indulge in these days was rushed, messy, and often... short lived.

Anyway, needless to say... You would be fine. It was you and your rabbit toy against the world, anyway.

"You'll be fine," You smiled. You loved him. He loved you. He was a great husband, and he took care of you. You had no reason to complain. "I'll be back before you know it." .

The Japanese countryside was a blur, rushing past the window of your train like pictures, like a movie. You hadn't noticed the train slow to a stop, in fact, until you heard the doors open. Popping your head up over the seat, you observed the train station. Which stop is this? People began filtering in from both sides, eager to find a seat before the train took off.

A shrill cry of your name roused you from your thoughts. 

You whipped your head around. A familiar-looking woman with black hair and an eyepatch was waving you down across the aisle. She was wearing a Public Safety suit and slacks. Himeno.

A smile crawled over your lips before you knew it. "Himeno?" You asked, a teasing lilt in your tone. "Is that you?"

Without asking if anyone else was sitting there, she took a seat in the one across from you. She leaned forward, perching her chin up on her hand. "Never thought I'd see you again. How the hell are 'ya?"

You and Himeno went way back. She had been in the same division as you back when the two of you were teens. She was the first person in Public Safety who had ever actually welcomed you to the division and the last person to say goodbye to you. You parted ways before ever being able to exchange information but, for what it was worth, she had made those gruesome, tedious missions more bearable. 

"I've been good!" You grinned. "I've been in the Kyoto sector with my partner. I truly did plan on coming back, but one thing led to another, and now..." You trailed off, waving your hands around like you were trying to find the right words. "Well, I'm married to him."

The train creaked and groaned before it began to move again. 

"So I've heard," Himeno licked her lips. She sat back in her chair, producing a carton of cigarettes – the kind she always used to smoke when the two of you were on missions together. "You mind if I smoke?"

No, but the conductor might. "Of course not," You answered. "How about you? How have you been?"

She sighed. "Been better, honestly. Devil activity's been crazy recently," Fishing a lighter out of her suit pocket, she sparked up. The end of her cigarette sizzled and smoked between her slim fingers. Holding it up to her lips, she muttered, "Just doing what I can to stay alive. What brings you back to the city?"

"My presence has been requested by the higher-ups," You shrugged. The scent of nicotine and smoke filled the cabin. It was gross but, frankly, familiar. "My husband wasn't too happy that he didn't get invited, so this better be worth it."

"I see," Himeno hummed, breathing out a puff of smoke to the side. She kept on looking out of the window after that, at the train station that was now far behind the train. "You're leaving your partner and I'm returning to mine."

"You're married?" You asked.

"God, no," She chuckled softly, pulling another hit from her cancer stick. "Wouldn't mind being with my assigned partner, though. He's a fine piece of ass."

It seemed like you couldn't help the way you burst into laughter at her crude remark. She hasn't changed one bit. "Is he cute?"

"Cute?" She repeated the word like it was a foreign object in her mouth. Her voice was muffled by the cloud of smoke that flowed out from between her lips. "He's drop-dead gorgeous," She took another slow, calculated hit. "Enough about me, though, how's the married life going for you?"

Could be better. You feigned a warm smile at the mention of your husband. "Good. Yeah, it's good."

Good was a bit of an overstatement. .

You and Himeno spent the rest of the train ride catching up. There was talk about marriage, sex, old coworkers, and new ones. It felt kind of good to be back – to be able to talk to someone who shared the same history as you. You would almost say that you missed it.

By the time the announced its next stop at the Tokyo station, you hadn't even realized how quickly the trip had gone by. You could thank your talkative companion for that. As the train finally eased to a stop, you turned to Himeno with a smile. 

"I need to grab my bags," you said, rising from your seat and straightening your clothes.

Himeno nodded, her smile warm but tinged with a hint of sadness. "Okay. Take care of yourself!"

Navigating the narrow aisle, you headed toward the luggage compartment. As you reached up to grab your suitcase, you collided with someone. Startled, you looked up to find yourself face-to-face with a man who immediately captured your attention. He was tall, easily over six feet, with broad shoulders and a powerful build that spoke of both strength and discipline. His dark hair was tied back in a neat topknot, accentuating his sharp, angular features. But it was his eyes that held you—their piercing blue depths seemed to look straight through you, filled with a seriousness that made you catch your breath.

"Sorry—" he began, his voice a deep, resonant baritone that vibrated through the narrow space.

For a moment, the world seemed to narrow down to just the two of you. The closeness of his body, the scent of his cologne—clean and subtly spiced, lingering just faintly on the collar of his suit jacket—the intense focus of his gaze; all of it created a bubble of tension that neither of you could ignore. You could see the flicker of surprise in his eyes, a momentary lapse in his serious demeanor, as if he too had been caught off guard.

Both of you paused. His gaze flickered down to your uniform for just a heartbeat before he quickly looked away, regaining his composure. Without another word, you continued in opposite directions, the silent exchange leaving you... well, a little breathless to say the least.

Stop it. You're a married woman. Surely, you would know how to control your impulses after being away from your husband for only a day.

Reaching up, you pulled your suitcase from the overhead compartment, the weight of it a familiar comfort. Setting it down on the ground with a soft thud, you turned back to your seat, only to find the handsome man still standing there, now engaged in conversation with Himeno. He was so tall that he had to actually lean over a little bit to fit into the cabin.

Fuck me. You thought. Wait, no, don't fuck me.

"Is this your partner, Himeno?" you asked, raising an eyebrow in curiosity.

"Yes, I found him!" Himeno responded with a wide grin. "Captain Hayakawa, this is an old friend of mine," she said, going on to introduce you by name.

"Hello," he greeted, extending his hand. The deep, velvety timbre of his voice sent a shiver down your spine.

"Captain? Should I be calling you 'sir'?" you teased lightly, shaking his hand – and his grip was firm and warm.

"Only if you want to," he replied, "Hayakawa is fine."

Only if you want to.

Get your fucking head out of the gutter.

Your heart skipped a beat as you found yourself momentarily lost in his gaze. His eyes were a captivating shade of blue, intense and unwavering. The handshake lingered a moment too long. You could feel the strength and warmth of his hand – it was far larger than yours, and had calluses at the tip of the palm.

Despite his serious demeanor, there was a flicker of something in his eyes, a hint of interest that he seemed determined to keep under control. Reluctantly, you pulled your hand away, feeling the lingering warmth of his touch. 

His gaze remained locked on yours for a moment longer, a silent acknowledgment of whatever the fuck had just happened.

Himeno cleared her throat, breaking the spell. "Well, let me give you a big hug, dearest."

You embraced her fondly, the familiarity of her touch grounding you. 

"Here, give me your number," Himeno said as she pulled back. She flipped her phone open. "Let's keep in touch."

With a smile, you told her your phone number. 

She snapped her phone shut after she had finished typing it in. "Okay! Hopefully, I'll get to see you around."

"Yes, of course! We'll be in touch," You agreed. You bowed your head to her, then to her partner. "Hayakawa."

He nodded back. You dismissed yourself after that, turning on your heel and practically scrambling to get out of that tiny train cabin. Still, you couldn't help but glance back at Captain Hayakawa. His eyes met yours again for a brief, fleeting moment before you turned away, heart racing with something you hadn't felt in a long time.

You didn't want to stick around and find out what it was. The weight of your wedding ring around your finger was a reminder of that much. .

You hadn't been in Public Safety's Tokyo headquarters in years. It was bigger than you remembered it being. The worst part? All the halls looked the exact same. It took you about thirty minutes to find the office in which you were currently standing.

A woman who you'd been dreading seeing the whole way over there was perched on a leather seat in front of you, arms folded over the desk, pink hair braided the same way it always had been, feline eyes flitting over your body. It made you feel small – like prey trapped in a predator's den.

"How was your trip over here?" Makima asked. Her voice was smooth, uniform – calculated, just like everything else she did. 

"It was pleasant," You answered. "I came as soon as I could."

"We appreciate that," Makima said, a hint of something sinister in her smile.

She stepped out from behind her desk, pacing slowly around the room. "I called you here because we've recently suffered a great deal of casualties," she explained, her tone measured and controlled. "I'm worried we won't have the manpower to deal with all the sudden appearances of gun-devil pieces."

"I understand. Am I being formally stationed?" you replied, trying to maintain your composure.

"Not that I know of, no," she responded, her eyes narrowing slightly. "For now, we need backup on a particular mission involving a school in the area. There have been reports of peculiar activity there, and I want to send one of my teams to investigate. I haven't decided whether you'll be in the field or here tying up some loose ends—we recently lost one of our best workers, and we're very far behind as a result. I'll have a certain answer for you within the next few days."

"A few... days?"

"Yes, is that a problem?"

"No, not at all, no. I just—" you sighed, feeling the weight of uncertainty. "Yeah, okay, that sounds good."

"You've also been booked a hotel suite nearby. Your stay will be provided at no cost to you," she continued, her tone unwavering. "I'll reach out to you as soon as I have more details. Hang tight until then."

With a tight-lipped smile, you nodded. "Thank you, Miss Makima. Am I dismissed?"

"Yes, I'll have one of our drivers take you to your room so you can drop off your luggage," she said, her smile not reaching her eyes. "Where did you leave it?"

"I left it in the break room," you said.

"Very well. I'll have someone collect it," she replied, her eyes closing briefly as she smiled. "Get home safely."

With that, you turned and left the office, the tension of the encounter still lingering in the back of your mind. There was just something about that damn lady that never failed to send a shiver up your spine. You sighed, glancing down at the old floorboards, at your shoes.

The reality of the situation began to sink in. 

You had traveled all this way, navigating the maze of identical halls and sterile rooms, only to be told you had to wait. The thought gnawed at you— That sounds about right from her, you mused. It was typical of Makima, always keeping you in the dark, always one step ahead, holding the reins tightly.

The cool, clinical atmosphere of the headquarters only heightened your sense of displacement. The fluorescent lights overhead cast a harsh, unforgiving glow, making everything look stark and unwelcoming.

Lost in your thoughts, you heard a series of footsteps echoing down the hall, followed by hushed voices. The sound grew closer, and you recognized the voice immediately—it was the young lieutenant captain again, the man you had bumped into earlier.

You glanced up, and there he was, standing just a few feet away. He was a striking figure, his presence suffocating – commanding and enigmatic. He had a sharp jaw, chiseled and defined, the kind that could cut paper. His eyes, a moody blue, held a penetrating gaze, one that seemed to see right through you, making you feel as though you were laid completely bare before him.

His brow was knit slightly in deep thought. There was a slight furrow at the bridge of his nose. The tufts of inky black hair that framed his features only added to the boyish charm of his face. 

As he spoke to the other Public Safety worker beside him, his hands moved with purposeful grace.

Your eyes were drawn to him despite yourself, unable to escape the force of his presence. 

His gaze caught yours briefly, and in that fleeting moment, you felt an almost tangible tension in the air. It was as if time had stopped for a heartbeat, the corridor seeming to stretch and contract around the two of you.

The connection between your eyes was like a magnet, pulling you in despite your efforts to look away. The faintest flutter in your chest was enough to have you gripping the collar of your shirt.

He blinked first, his eyes breaking away from yours as he turned back to his companion. The conversation resumed, but the air seemed thicker now, charged with the residual energy of your brief encounter. 

"We need to re-evaluate our strategies for dealing with the increased devil activity," he said, his words carefully chosen. "The losses have been significant, and our resources are stretched thin."

You turned and walked in the opposite direction, the soft hum of the fluorescent lights overhead seeming to amplify the distance you were putting between yourself and him.

As you moved down the corridor, you couldn't shake the feeling that his eyes were still on you, as if the weight of his gaze lingered even after you had turned away.  .

You had just stepped out of the shower, the steam still clinging to the room and curling around the bathroom mirror in hazy swirls. The cool, clean air of the hotel suite met you as you emerged, a refreshing contrast to the stifling atmosphere of the Public Safety headquarters.

You took a moment to let the chill of the air sink into your skin, feeling the pleasant coolness against your damp hair and freshly washed face. You dried yourself off, the soft towel enveloping you in its warmth, and slipped into a comfortable set of loungewear—simple, dark gray sweatpants and a loose-fitting, white t-shirt.

You walked over to the full-sized bed, the crisp white sheets and plush pillows arranged neatly. You flopped down onto it, letting out a relieved sigh as you sank into the softness of the mattress.

Reaching for your phone from the nightstand, you dialed your husband's number. As the call connected, you propped yourself up on one elbow and stared at the ceiling, trying to shake off the exhaustion of the day.

When he answered, his voice was calmingly familiar, cutting through the distance between you with a comforting ease. "Hey. How's everything going?"

"It's been a day," you said with a soft chuckle. "I finally got here, but of course, they've got me waiting for more details. Typical."

"Sounds about right," he said, his voice tinged with a longing that you could almost touch through the phone, "I miss you."

You closed your eyes for a moment, trying to push away the brief flash of memories that drifted through your mind—blue eyes and raven hair, a fleeting image that made your heart skip a beat. An image of soft lips wrapped around the syllables, 'Only if you want to.'

You shook your head gently, trying to dispel the image from your thoughts. "I miss you too," you said, trying to keep your tone light and steady.

You heard the faint sound of his smile through the phone, a soft, reassuring sound. You had never been so happy to hear his voice. "How's the hotel?"

"It's nice," you said, shifting your position on the bed to get more comfortable. "Pretty standard, but it's got a good view of the city."

"I can think of one view I'd really like to see right now," he teased gently. 

Just as you were about to reply, your phone started ringing again. You glanced at the screen and saw the name of your old coworker. 

"Hold on, I'm getting a call," you said, your fingers hovering over the screen. 

"Ugh, okay," he said. "Bye."

"Bye," you replied, a smile tugging at your lips as you ended the call.

You took a deep breath before picking up. "Hello?"

"Heya, Hot stuff. What you up to?" Himeno drawled into the receiver.

"Just got out the shower," You answered. "Why? Is something up?"

"Nah. Well, yeah," She giggled. "Miss Makima's taking us out for drinks to celebrate the success of our last mission tomorrow. She rented out this whole space for us. You coming?"

You chuckled quietly, carding a hand through your damp hair. "I always feel dull at parties."

"You? Dull?" Came Himeno's retort. "This really the same person who used to take body shots off complete strangers back in the day?"

The mere mention of your past self had you laughing all over again. "Times change."

"Married life made you soft?" 

You winced. Sure, perhaps a somewhat-boring life in the countryside with your husband had made you a little soft. But there was something in the way she said it – something that made you tick. You were happy being a married woman. You had been happy since the two of you had eloped at 21.

You were happy, dammit. You just wished it was a little easier to convince yourself of that.

"I don't know..." You trailed off. "I won't be any fun."

"Noooooo... You have to come!" Himeno groaned. You could hear her pacing around in the background. "DENJI!" She called to god knows who. "Back me up here!"

The phone was handed over to someone else – a young-sounding boy. "I'm not gonna force someone to go to a stupid party."

"Tell her to come!" Could be heard very faintly in the background.

"Wait. She's a 'she'?"

"Not just any 'she', thats–"

"You should definitely come tonight," The boy decided. "Name's Denji, by the way."

"Hi, Denji," You sighed. "Could you hand the phone back to Himeno for just a moment?"

"Sure," He answered. "Bye, gorgeous. See you there."

Gorgeous. He hasn't even seen me and he's calling me gorgeous. You had to have been in the twilight zone.

"So, you're coming, right?" Himeno's voice chirped over the line.

"I don't know," You answered (again). "Who's going?"

"Aki's coming. Remember him? Partner? Total hottie?" She replied. 

Total hottie was an understatement. Again, the image of his pretty face flashed through your mind. You squashed the mere thought of it – like an incessant bug. "Yes, we met."

"I'm gonna get a smooch out of him by the end of the night," She giggled. "You can bet on that."

People came and went. Seasons changed. Himeno, however, did not. She was just as crude as you had always remembered her being.

"Just a kiss?" You teased.

"Maybe. Maybe more," She teased right back. "Can you believe he doesn't have a girlfriend? He's 20! That's gotta mean something."

He's five years younger than me... You picked mindlessly at your nails. "Something like...?"

"Dunno. Am I wrong for thinking he's holding out for me?" 

"Oh, to be young and naive again," You sighed. "I was engaged at his age," You trailed off, words hanging in the air for a moment after they had slipped past your lips.

Awkward. Did that slip out?

You leaned back against the headboard, feeling the cool pillows against your back while your mind drifted to the past. You had been so young when you'd gotten married, looking back. You loved him, you truly did. Sure, you had your issues, but didn't every married couple?

The two of you were happy. Still, a pang of jealousy surfaced when you heard Himeno speak so freely about her independence, her sexual prowess. In a way, you felt as though you had been deprived of that freedom far too early.

Your fingers traced the edge of your phone, your gaze drifting as memories flooded your mind. Himeno's laughter on the other end of the line seemed distant, a reminder of a simpler time, unburdened by the weight of responsibilities and commitments.

You were happy... weren't you?

"Hey, you still there?" Himeno's voice pulled you back to the present, her tone tinged with concern.

"Yeah, sorry," you replied, shaking off the melancholy that had crept into your thoughts. "Just got lost in my head for a moment."

"Don't we all," she sighed, her voice softening. "Look, just come down tomorrow. It'll be fun. We can catch up, have a few drinks, and maybe you can even be my wingman for the night."

You chuckled, the sound more genuine this time. "Alright, fine. I'll come. But no promises about playing matchmaker."

"Yay! It's at five," Himeno's excitement was palpable, and it was contagious. "I'll see you then. Hopefully, you can loosen up a little bit. Relive the good days."

"Yeah, maybe," you said, a small, half-assed smile playing on your lips. "See you then."

You ended the call and set your phone to the side. 

Loosen up a little, You thought. Yeah, you could definitely stand to do that.

a/n: shortie but a goodie! i already have most of the story written (so this one doesnt wind up like my 25,000 other unfinished projects), and this was the only way i could think to cut this chapter off hehe. ANYWAYYYY i hope yall enjoyed and are prepared for the TENSION AND SPICEEEE. omg its so tasty i cant wait. stay tuned! its gonna be so amazing. please comment and whatever to let me know your thoughts, wants and desires for this story! or just smth fun. i love reading yalls comments hehe comments + reblogs are greatly appreciated!!

credits: UNKOWN ATM. I found it on pinterest unfortch. If you know the artist, please let me know, so I can credit them properly for their work!!! This is NOT MY BEAUTIFUL DRAWINGGG. I obviously do not own csm or anything related to it. please do not reproduce, copy, or translate my works anywhere. dont fk w me im a bruja.

also: come find me on my wattpad if u wanna interact more!

taglist: @mitsuyeahhh , @sleepysnk , @enneadec , @noaabean , @em1e , @drakensdarling , @bertholdts--butt , @satanlovesusall666 , @mitsuwuyaa , @noctifule , @scaraphobia , @ask-the-insect-hashira , @lovingranchturkeyweasel , @bontensbabygirl , @slvdsjjk , @novacrystalli , @hanmastattoos , @kodzuksn , @hqtiny , @ohmaiscool15 , @redlittlequeen , @leivane , @goldeneagles-posts , @yeahblahlame , @no-oneelsebutnsu , @cookiesandcreammy , @cawwn , @the-haitani-baton , @littlelovebug98 , @armani78 , @mindurownbussines , @kokos-property , @violetmatcha , @hp-simp505 , @acethebrave , @mitsuyeahhh , @sleepysnk , @enneadec , @noaabean , @em1e , @drakensdarling , @bertholdts--butt , @satanlovesusall666 , @mitsuwuyaa , @noctifule , @scaraphobia , @ask-the-insect-hashira , @lovingranchturkeyweasel , @bontensbabygirl , @slvdsjjk , @novacrystalli , @hanmastattoos , @kodzuksn , @hqtiny , @ohmaiscool15 , @redlittlequeen , @leivane , @goldeneagles-posts , @yeahblahlame , @no-oneelsebutnsu , @cookiesandcreammy , @cawwn , @the-haitani-baton , @littlelovebug98 , @armani78 , @mindurownbussines , @kokos-property , @violetmatcha , @hp-simp505

wanna join the taglist? | shameless ; chapter index

[lexluvswriting]

ꔫ L'autunno.

☆ Ch: 1 [next page]

-> Pairing: Eris x ballet dancer!fem!reader.

-> Content Warning/CW: x fem!reader (she/her), slow-burn, rivals to lovers, tinkle of angst on occasion, fluff, non-specified identity Summer Court!reader, regarding canon ACOTAR time: after defeat of Hybern. live, laugh, love 2 lesbian mothers!!

-> Trigger Warnings/TW: Eris Vanserra, mentions of racism, mentions of discrimination, mentions of forced removal from homes (cant think of the name rn), Beron Vanserra is a massive cunt.

W/C: 2.8k

╰┈➤ Lex's note: omg eris fic is here grahhh!!! the title for this comes from Vivaldi's Four Seasons Concerto album, which i do listen to while writing this, yes yes. Eris has is a massive dick, but i'd like to hope he's a massive dick for a reason that will (hopefully) be revealed better. Hopefully, reader holds him accountable & gives him a run for his money!! (you will). While reader is fem for this fic, there's no specified identity (except being from Summer Court). There are a few referrals to racism using the Courts of Prythian & the fae, so if this feels triggering or hurtful, please let me know if it feels like it's written badly/insincerely! i'm merely basing such references off of personal & researched experiences. TYSM for reading, please enjoy <3

A violin filled the studio, wafting around like a strong scent- hypnotic as you inhaled deeply, eyes shut to steel yourself and count in before your arms swung up and out, fingers and feet pointed within your ballet shoes as you began to dance. Careful, calculated steps sent you spinning around the room- the perfect prima of your time. A prime example for those who dream to even come close to your level.

In a room of fire, your movements were fluid. In a room of embers, you were a tidal wave. Your body poise and malleable as you stretched yourself alluringly to those who watched as you swayed for the sweet symphony of violins. Eyes watched you from a concealed viewing platform high above- russet spheres simmering with a flame of interest that was bound to end in a fiery mess.

“Her. I want her to perform for the Equinox.”

“She’s quite the star, isn’t she?” Your mentor nodded, eyes twinkling with pride, before he wore his favourite facade- an arrogant smirk on his lips as he inspected his manicured nails. Eris’ face was impassive, yet any trained, or similarly minded individual would see the need for greed in his russet eyes as he glared down at you, pupils flaring possessively.

“She’s my starlet, young Lord. I cannot let her perform without any… payment. She will be put through harsh training- stretching, extension of her muscles, and her diet will be limited- to ensure she is tamed and perfect for the Lord’s family. I know the Lady of Autumn thoroughly enjoys the…” He trailed off nervously as Eris held up a silencing hand, the young heir fixing him with a cold stare- despite the fire in his veins.

“Spare me. Your pocket will be stuffed accordingly. But I warn you,” With one hand he grabbed the collar of the weaker male’s shirt with a predatory grace,

 She must be perfect, or else we won’t have her, and the only old you’ll see is the Vanserra signet ring imprinted in your cheek.” His hand clenched accordingly, the Vanserra signet ring- the emblem of the Autumn Court banners carved in the pure gold, making Gustav still and nod compliantly. The heir dismissively waved for a servant to hand your instructor a list before storming out- ignoring your dancing figure.

--- ⋆⁺₊✧˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☾⋆⁺₊✧⋆ ---

“Wrong! When we kick, our leg must come out-”

A cold hand clamped around your calf, another hand pushing just above your knee, the joint loose like a hinge. Your face was impassive- unmoving even as a small ‘pop’ echoed from somewhere in your knee. One of the junior dancers recoiled visibly, hiding her face behind her hands as a cluster of them watched you be used like a demonstration doll for your instructor.

“Stiff! Strong! Not flabby and weak. We are not caterpillars- we are butterflies. We are not brutish fires, we are?”

“Dancing flames.” The dancers replied in a drone of young feminine voices, with a few meek boys who looked like they were on the verge of clawing their eyes out. Gustav was being a right pain in the ass as always, but today he seemed more sharpened. Another lecture, another scolding, but it was always,

“For the better! I do this for your own good, my dears! When the Equinox arises and we are in front of your esteemed Lord, I know his lordship would enjoy seeing his dancers disciplined. Lean and poise. Controlled.”

The cold hand that held your leg squeezed once in warning- ‘I’m talking about you too’, before letting go, as your instructor sighed with a dismissive wave of his hand.

“That is why we dance the way we dance, and why I speak the way I do. Now leave me! And warm down appropriately or I will personally see to it that the muscles you take for granted will tear.” A curl of the lip in a low, warning snarl, before he waved with a sweeter disposition. 

“Adequate work today, my dears!” Footsteps echoed as the younger dancers left first, whispers filling the halls as they eagerly complained about their instructor. The older ones bid polite greetings of farewell as they followed, until you were the last to leave. The prima. Gus liked to call you the ‘Summer jewel in the Autumn box’.

“Ah, ah, ah! I mean it, my jewel. No going off and doing your own thing.” You pause. His voice carried a weariness of someone twice his age, before he covered it up with his usual airy arrogance, “The Lord will be hosting important families at this gathering. Something big is on the horizon and I know he will be watching you closely.”

Ah, yes. Kicking out all the non-fae and those who hail from other courts. The nationalist prick seemed to have no lost winks of sleep as he commanded his soldiers to haul families out in the night, dispatching them at random borders with no cares for the creatures that lurked with a taste for fae flesh.

“I’m aware, Gus. No sudden movements, no flashy shows of skill, Mother forbid I reveal I’m not some worthless foreigner with no talent.” You mocked mirthlessly, earning a sigh of defeat. 

“Wait a moment.” He roused, and the fingers that curled around your bag strap tightened slightly, your pointed ears twitching at the tone of his voice. But you slowly turned, a scowl on your unimpressed face as you nodded airly.

“You were selected personally to perform for the Vanserra family. Something about honouring the magic in the Autumn Court territory with dance and such.”

You paused, mind blanking, yet your demeanour remained even, “And you’re looking at me like that, why?”

He winced, knowing how keen you were to snap at any male- or anyone, really, who rubbed you up the wrong way.

“They left a list of… expectations. As in, mandatory requirements or they won’t let you perform. They expect you to be… um… Be polite, and uh, as he put it, ‘socially acceptable’. Speak in turn and only when spoken to-”

“He?” You snapped, visibly unimpressed and ready to pull out completely. What kind of prick-

“I don’t let you anywhere near me on a good day, Gustav. What in the Cauldron makes you think I’ll just-”

“They’re offering coffers of gold. The Equinox… well, after Amarantha… they need to regenerate the magic of the Autumn Court specifically, so they want to use the Equinox.”

You cringed at the mention of that sick tyrant, yet you weren’t going to just roll over and lie down because someone jingled a purse of gold. “What of the Spring Court and Calanmai?”

“I didn’t ask, because I know my place. And don’t start. I didn’t exactly feel like getting ripped a new one by the son of the Autumn Lord, [Y/N]-”

“Son? As in, Eris Vanserra? That oaf- that misogynistic, foul-mouthed, mentally decayed pig was here? And he spoke to you about me?” You snarled, lip curling back as you advanced forward slowly like a fox- a wolf, eyes narrowed.

“He’s offering coffers on behalf of his father, [Y/N]! Enough for you to be paid out well, and then some for the studio.” Damn right he put you first on the pay list, otherwise he wouldn’t have a damned head. Though, you personally couldn’t give a flying fuck about the Vanserra coffers. You wanted nothing of it, as tempting as it might have sounded.

“Get Nerissa to do it.”

“He wanted you-”

“I thought the family wanted me.”

“I… oh, fuck it- Fine! Eris came here alone! Came here alone, saw you, insisted on you with this list in mind and he said either you or no one at all.”

You or no one. You or nothing. You made a retch of disgust, laughing at the mental image. Who did he think he was? “Then I will snap my leg in half and shatter my bones into teeny tiny pieces for good measure.”

“[Y/N]-”

“I will swan dive off the nearest staircase.”

“No.”

“I’m not performing personally for a good-for-nothing family that are backwards in everything they do.” You reaffirmed, shaking your head, but Gustav stepped forward.

“[Y/N].”

“They singled out the non-Autumn Court dancer to perform for them. What powers do I possess to help the court that doesn’t even want us? A ‘summery breeze’? A ‘foreigner’s’ complexion? Absolutely not-”

“Please. We…” Silence, before a sigh. A sigh that made you glare silently. “I received a letter last night from the building owner. I’ve been falling behind on payments, and Beron’s financiers are… hungry- they see this old building and want to knock it down for something else. Something miserable and drab.”

You frowned, blinking at your instructor. Well, fuck. Your shared silence was long- his pleading, hopeful silence swirled like smoke with your prideful refusal, that melted like wax the longer it lingered.

“... Fine. But only because I enjoy this damned studio.”

--- ⋆⁺₊✧˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☾⋆⁺₊✧⋆ ---

Your life was, what you thought at least, a mixed bag. You were brought up in an orphanage- housing mostly Autumn children, all who seemed to smell the ‘impostor’ blood in your bones, weeding you out as an odd one out. Your appearance led the governess of the orphanage to believe you hailed from the Summer Court- as did russet and teal muslin you were wrapped in. You repurposed the seemingly sentimental piece of fabric into a scarf- letting it rest around your neck currently, as you walked down the path of the bustling town.

You were lucky to be recognised for your artistic performative abilities, earning a grant to allow you to perform in the Autumn Court’s national dance academy, as well as live in one the apartments they provided. Two old ladies next door adopted you as their honorary daughter, and you were grateful for their familial company, even if there was no blood relation. One of them, Ordelia, even pushed you to study at the grand scholar’s library, using her former connections to grant you access to all the education you could need.

It wasn’t wonderful. But it could be worse. At least you were making it on your own, sort of.

“Afternoon little doe! Will you come for dinner? Delia-dearest made pumpkin and feta soup the way you like it!” ‘Madame’ Primrose, one of your makeshift mothers, waved to you from her balcony, and you offered a small wave.

“Not tonight, I’m afraid. I’m on a strict diet of greens and grains.” You pat your stomach with a sympathetic wince- greens and grains. Like a bloody farm animal. The silver haired fae seemed to nod sympathetically and wave a hand.

“You’re always welcome, dearie.” 

You stopped for a moment, looking at an old fae sitting on the corner of the little road, a vendor selling flowers. The sun was dipping behind the horizon, staining the sky pink amidst the grey from the overcast weather that settled. You smiled at the older male who offered you a bouquet of lavender stalks and crocus bulbs.

Pretty.

Your eyes widened slightly as you beheld the bouquet, cradling it against your arm while you fished out payment. As you dropped some coins into his hand, a scream made you both look to one of the older complexes, where a woman was pulled out by some Autumn Court guards with two wailing children behind her. Any passersby walked quicker, ducking their heads, and when you looked back at the old male you realised he had been watching you. He gave you a nod, as if you’d know what it meant, and you swallowed before walking past, your head lower than before.

Beauty was hard to come by in the Autumn court, no matter how colourful it looked.

--- ⋆⁺₊✧˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☾⋆⁺₊✧⋆ ---

“Oh, it’s nasty business, it really is. My darling Ordelia was telling me how shameful he is- that Beron Vanserra. Nasty business. I remember his father- he wasn’t much better, but certainly more handsome.” You had succumbed to the dinner with your neighbour-mothers, though your portion of soup was smaller, as the sprouts and stalks you miserably chewed filled most of your stomach.

“You know, I could have married Beron.”

Your eyes widened, hand shooting up to cover your mouth as you didn't know whether to choke or chortle. “Primrose!” Ordelia huffed,

“I could have, you know! But I wasn’t interested in a man with no morals.” ‘Madame’ Primrose sighed wistfully, and you laughed softly behind your mouth while her wife rolled her eyes. While Ordelia had raven hair in a tight, disciplined bun, Primrose wore hers in a loose braid that cosied on her shoulder- her silver hair glistening in the gentle faelight of the small dining room you all sat in.

“You know, I hear that Lord Vanserra is looking for some pretty girls to match his sons. The heir will be attending the Equinox alone, can you believe it?” Primrose hummed, thriving off the gossip, but Ordelia watched you with a knowing stare- amused at the soft snort you let out.

“How fares the paper? Arwen mentioned that you were hitting some brilliant points. Politics might be your strong suit, should you grow tired of glamorous costumes and fast dances.” The Autumn-born female brought up your most recent studies, a ghost of a smile on her lips as she heard her wife scoff.

At a first glance, you used to wonder how they could possibly be mated. Ordelia, with her firm, reserved rigidness and disciplined personality, and Primrose- a Spring Court fae who was gossipy and eclectic, always buzzing with something to share. Ordelia was a former scholar for Beron’s family before she retired, while Primrose was the prima ballerina of her time, moving to Autumn in search of a grander role where she met her mate. Their love-story made you sigh a little every time you heard it, but you shook your head of distractions as you answered Ordelia.

“It’s um… definitely going. I feel a little foolish writing it but every time I hear about another family getting kicked out, I get even angrier, and determined to write more. Although… um, Gustav spoke to me about… performing a solo dance for the Vanserras. A part of the Equinox celebration-”

Primrose gaped at that, as if she had been asked to dance herself, “Oh, little dove! Well, what did you say? You worked for that position- I’ll tell you that for free! I can’t fit on my fingers the times I had to remedy your torn muscles. Did you say yes? Did you accept?” 

Ordelia nodded, taking a thoughtful sip of her soup before chuckling softly. “I would not be surprised if your radiance catches the heir’s eye. You’d be a different splash compared to the other dames he usually parades around on his arm. I think you’d certainly give him a run for his father’s money.”

“Ordelia dearest! What makes you think our little summer shell would even consider him?” Primrose voiced the disdain etched on your face, and you joked dryly, “I didn’t think you believed in fate and whatnot.” The Autumn female scoffed softly, shaking her head, “I don’t believe in fate, or destiny. I believe in the laws of attraction. You are everything his family lack, thus making you a match. Opposites attract.” You glanced at Primrose, and both of you made a childish noise of disgust as you shuddered, shaking your head as you finished off your meal.

“I’d rather have a kelpie as a bedside companion than Eris Vanserra.” You muttered, before taking all three plates to be cleaned. Laughter sounded softly behind you, and as you felt a small smile curl on your face, you abhorred the idea of being anywhere near the Lord of the Autumn Court and his family.

--- ⋆⁺₊✧˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☾⋆⁺₊✧⋆ ---

After bidding your goodnights, you retired to your own apartment, basking happily in the moonlight that shone through the silent space. Peace and quiet. The best way to finish off a bleak day. Your calendar stared you in the face, the Equinox marked in an angry scribble of orange ink. ‘End of the week!!’

What a day. You rubbed your face, feeling a stirring in your stomach as you thought about the Autumn Court. You glanced at the daily paper slid under your door, seeing Eris’ face on the front page- his smug, arrogant, wicked, slightly crooked, unnecessarily charming grin staring you in the face, making your stomach tug. ‘Eugh. Imagine being fated to that beast?’ You’d rather eat glass.

You looked at the paper, baring your teeth at the male’s face before ripping it off and crumpling it up. A swift kick sent it across the small apartment, under your couch, and stayed there for a while as you grumbled softly. You got ready for bed eagerly, excited for the day to be over, only to reach under the small sofa it had rolled under and pick it up again, making a face at it before leaving it on the small table.

╰┈➤ Lex's note 2: i think that's all for now!! readers, pls let me know how we feel about this!!! (privately, in comments, on inbox, i don't mind)!! also in search for a beta reader [i draft everything on google docs, don't hurt me] (T-T)

[lopsicle]

~Don’t Leave~

TickleTober Day 11 Hug:

Characters: Lee! Enid, Ler! Wednesday

Summary: Enid gets pouty when Wednesday has to leave for class and demands a goodbye hug. Wednesday complies.

Warnings: Tickle Fic.

Perfect. Everything was absolutely perfect for Enid. After the whole Hyde situation had crashed and burned and the two roommates had a little time to relax and process everything over the Summer break, Enid was finally back with Wednesday and more clingy than ever.

Even though Wednesday was more averse to physical affection, she made a special exception for Enid. She wouldn’t be seen dead cuddling with anyone else. Well, it was more like she was laying down comfortably on her own dark bed, with Enid’s curled up against her, clinging her limbs around Wednesday’s body with her face buried in her cold neck. Wednesday didn’t mind it at all, it was actually quite enjoyable, she was always cold and Enid was always warm. It wasn’t sappy or lovey dovey, it was just mutual benefit.

That was until it wasn’t good for Wednesday anymore. She’d be counting in her head since Enid had made her way over and clung to her like a koala, noting she only had about ten minutes to get to her first class of the day. It pained her a little to pull Enid away from her, it felt akin to kicking a puppy, or a scorpion in Wednesday’s mind. Still, she spoke up.

“Enid, I should be going now.” Wednesday announced, raising slightly on the bed. Enid shifted to look up at her as a disgruntled whine left her lips.

“Nooooo, you just got here,” Enid defied, but she only put up a weak fight as Wednesday carefully pulled her body away from her away.

“Actually, I’ve been here for 43 minutes and 37 seconds, keep better count.” Wednesday lightly teased, standing up off from the bed and slipping on her thick boots. She began making her way over to the door when Enid called out to her.

“Wait!” Enid rose from her bed as Wednesday turned around to face her, a little unsure of why she was listening to her so obediently. That was a bad habit she’d gotten into with Enid.

“Can’t I at least get a hug first?” Enid asked, meekly pushing her arms out to her sides. Wednesday cocked an eyebrow, recognising that her unconfident movement was just an attempt to get Wednesday to pity her to give into her demands. Wednesday knew she shouldn’t reward such behaviour, but also that having such a cynical attitude towards being asked for a hug wasn’t the smartest idea.

“Your really pushing your luck today, Enid.” Wednesday replied though she also opened up her arms to Enid, who immediately beamed with a smile that reminded Wednesday of why she let her this close to her. Immediately, she bounced to Wednesday’s arms, who wrapped around her comfortable, resting near the back of her waistline. Given the extra height Wednesday’s boots gave her in comparison to Enid’s socks, she had to reach up a bit to wrap her arms around Wednesday’s neck, closing her eyes in content. Wednesday on the other hand, was having a few other ideas. She had missed Enid quite a bit herself after all, waking up to annoying pop songs, seeing Thing have a fresh coating of vibrant nail polish, the smell of vanilla that seemed to radiate from the bubbly girl. There was one thing that stuck out to her in this moment, a small thought crossed her mind which bubbled into action. Wednesday began scratching her fingertips so lightly it almost felt nonexistent against the bottom of Enid’s sides, who gasped and broke out into quiet giggles.

“W-wehehends?” Enid squeaked out in confusion, to which Wednesday just looked at her with a slightly playful glint in her eyes.

“What is it? I’m just giving you the hug you requested,” Wednesday feigned ignorance as of now, squeezing Enid’s hip once she tried to rebuttal her, leaving only a squeal in place of her argument. Enid’s face flushed pink as she squirmed about in Wednesday’s hold.

“You knohohow what yohohohour dohohohing!!” Enid huffed, burying her face in Wednesday’s chest in an attempt to hide her blushing cheeks. Inside, she was freaking out that Wednesday was tickling her again, without even making her ask for it! It was no secret between the two of them that Enid absolutely loved physical affection and tickling was no different, apart from just how easily flustered it could make her, which Wednesday was exploiting to its full benefits. She began rubbing and circling her fingertips into Enid’s hips, sometimes deciding to tap her way up and down her sides before resuming her circling.

“Hm, do I? Do you think maybe you could tell me, or say what I’m doing?” Wednesday prompted her, earning a frustrated whine from Enid; getting tickles without Wednesday trying to tease her was impossible. She squeaked and curled her knees up occasionally, whenever Wednesday’s fingers brushed up on those little extra-sensitive spots.

“Yohohour just beheheing meahahahahahan!!” Enid complained, gripping onto the back of Wednesday’s collar, shifting her balance between her legs as if the floor was lava, practically relying on Wednesday to be standing upright. Wednesday smirked a little at Enid’s whining, jabbing her nails into her side.

“Aw, how rude, and while I’m giving you a hug as well. But if you want me to be mean…” Wednesday didn’t finish her sentence, instead suddenly slipping her hands beneath Enid’s shirt, scratching and skittering her nails against her sides and tummy, randomly switching between the two spots. Her nails moved at a lightning quick pace, excitedly rediscovering all of Enid’s sensitive spots.

“W-WEHEHEHEDNESDAY!!” Enid shrieked her, her cheeks shifting to a more red hue as she thrashed from side to side in Wednesday’s tight hold fruitlessly. Her grip tightened on Wednesday, accidentally bumping her legs into hers over and over , keeping her tummy sucked in a meaningless attempt to avoid her nails.

“And now your shouting for no reason, you should quiet down before anyone hears how loud your getting.” Wednesday teased her, talking into her ear in a way that made Enid feel like her heart was about to stop. She bit down on her lip, trying to muffle her laughter but the dam was already broken and she couldn’t stop it from pouring out anymore.

“I-I CAHAHAHN’T HEHEHEHLP IHIHIT!!” Enid wailed, sweet, high-pitched laughter filling the room, which Enid desperately tried to stop by hiding in Wednesday’s neck. Wednesday however recoiled from the ticklish sensation, squeezing Enid’s sides instinctively, producing a loud squeal.

“Oh, but you can, all you have to do is tell me what’s making you laugh so much.” Wednesday reminded her in a matter of fact tone, causing Enid to whine, of course she was still being stubbornly persistent about that. To make matters worse, Wednesday jabbed her nails right into Enid’s stomach, one of her worst spots. Enid absolutely exploded with laughter, wriggling and bouncing all about in Wednesday’s hold, clinging onto the hug desperately.

“PLEAHAHAHSE, THAHAHT’S NO-NOHOHOT FAHAHAHAIR!!” Enid screamed out, seeming right at her breaking point with all this attention, and trying to convince Wednesday to back down was like talking to a brick wall.

“You just have to use your words darling, it can’t be that hard.” Wednesday commented, Enid felt her face redden ten times more before she admitted defeat in a whimper, followed by her screaming,

“IHIHITS BEHEHEHCAUSE YOHOHOHUR TIHIHICKLING ME!!” Enid forced out, barely able to focus on how flustered she was when her body was overwhelmed by the buzzing sensations in her belly, making her feel like her torso was on fire.

“Oh, was that it? You were struggling with saying the word tickle, were you? Why? Because your so ticklish?” Wednesday apparently felt like being extra annoying to Enid today, to which Enid stomped on her foot.

“WEHEHEDNESDAY!!” She whined, making it clear just how tickled out she was, if he beet red face wasn’t enough of a clue for that already. Wednesday slowed to a stop, her hands resuming their original placement in the hug, holding Enid warmly and securely as she caught her breath, recovering.

“I’ve missed your laughter,” Wednesday admitted, keeping her gaze forward with her chin resting on Enid’s shoulder, not facing the girl. Enid could already feel a smile creeping into her face as she squeezed Wednesday tighter.

“You really that mean?!” Wednesday nodded, not wanting to repeat herself. “Thank you, thank you!” Enid cooed, utterly adoring the compliment. “I missed you too!”

Wednesday smiled a little bit fixed her expression as she pulled away from the hug, her fingers lingering on Enid’s shoulder for a little longer, having half the mind to skip her class, but she wasn’t willing to admit that she cared that much yet.

“I’ll see in an hour, okay?” Baby steps. Wednesday looked down at Enid tenderly, who was still beaming, nodding enthusiastically.

“Of course!” As Wednesday turned to leave the room, Enid called out to her. “I’ll get you back then!” She promised, giving something Wednesday to think about for the next sixty whole minutes. Wednesday quickly left the room to hide her blush.

[sisterspooky1013]

Gaslight, Chapter 12/48

Rated X | Read it here on AO3

“Don’t forget, we have dinner with your parents tonight,” Diana says as she double checks the contents of her briefcase.

“Yep,” he confirms, then pops the last bite of his toast into his mouth.

“Are you feeling okay?” she asks, slipping her feet into her heels. “How’s your head?”

“A little sore, but I’m fine,” he answers.

“That’s good. I’ll see you tonight, then,” she says, kissing him quickly on the cheek and rushing out the door.

He hears the garage open, the rumble of the car’s engine starting up, and then it’s just him and Frenchie, and the quiet of the empty house.

“What do you think, Frenchie? Should we take a quick w-a-l-k?” he asks, and Frenchie’s tail begins to thump loudly against the floor. “Yeah? A walk sounds good?”

The dog stands abruptly, pacing back and forth behind his chair excitedly.

It’s a mild morning, chilly but with the promise of a warmer afternoon. He sets off with a brisk pace, hoping to get his heart pumping in lieu of an actual run, which he was advised to avoid for at least a few days. Frenchie trots happily beside him, her tongue lolling out the side of her smiling mouth.

He waves as he passes by familiar houses with familiar occupants, though he’s never learned their names. Lady-with-bowlcut and Short-shorts-guy are what he knows them by, but everyone knows Frenchie due to her tendency to go on adventures if the front door is left open when he runs the trash out to the bin.

“Morning,” he calls out with a wave, and Old-hunchback-man nods and raises his coffee cup in response.

They pass by a house he thinks of as The Children’s House, due to the lawn that is cluttered with ride-on toys and decrepit sports equipment. In the summer, joyful shrieks can be heard over the splashing of water from the back yard, and at Christmastime theirs is the house with the most lights. It makes him feel both happy and sad, The Children’s House, because it’s everything he hoped for and everything he doesn’t have. For himself, as a former child, and also as a person who had always imagined himself as a someday father, but never ended up walking that path.

As they near the driveway of The Children’s House, a small towheaded boy skitters down the pavement with bare feet, his eyes wide and zeroed in on Frenchie.

“Can I pet your dog?” the child asks hopefully, his hands held carefully behind his back as he waits for permission.

“Sure,” Jeff answers, signaling Frenchie to sit.

The boy runs his hand down her silky coat, smiling happily.

“Dogs like me,” the child declares, unashamed of his self-promotion.

“Aiden! Get back in the house!” a voice calls from inside the garage, and he looks up to see Mother-of-children standing in the open doorway, clutching her bathrobe closed.

He waves, and she bobs her head tersely, and the child gives Frenchie one last pat on the head and scrambles back inside. They finish their walk, each contemplative in the way that man and beast are, and then he dresses in khaki slacks and a white polo shirt before driving into Philly.

His office is a disaster. Books are strewn across the floor, intermingled with shards of splintered wood from the shelf that was lost in the scuffle. His first appointment isn’t until noon, which gives him a couple hours to get things back in order. He starts by picking up all the books and stacking them into the categories by which they’d formerly been organized.

The profession of therapist was never one he had in mind when he set out to study psychology. He’s always been fascinated by the human mind and corresponding behavior, and the links between what has happened to us and how we behave as a result. But sitting down in a room with a single person, unpacking their traumas and guiding them to a place of higher understanding that might allow them to overcome it, wasn’t exactly what he’d planned for. He stumbled into it, like so many things. And, as is often the case for people who are good at things that they don’t necessarily enjoy, it stuck.

He unearths a book from beneath a bust of Carl Jung and sits down, brushing his fingers over the raised letters on the cover. Parapsychology: The Controversial Science. It’s one he’s read many times, though not in several years. One that he and Diana used to discuss at length over coffee in his apartment in Alexandria. He wonders, not for the first time, how they’ve landed so incredibly off course from where they began. Two young professionals, both interested in strange and unexplainable phenomena, joining the FBI with the hope of being a part of finding the answers, but instead finding each other. Now, over a decade later, they are a lawyer and a therapist with a mortgage and a dog. A picture-perfect life, by all accounts. But not the one he’d imagined leading.

He sighs, standing and setting the book in a stack with others that fall outside the bounds of commonly accepted research. He finishes cleaning up the office, and by 11:45 all evidence of Mr. Porter’s tantrum is erased, save for the missing shelf. He checks his notes in preparation for his noon appointment, uses the bathroom, fills his water glass and restocks the tissues. He gets to work.

-

He dozes during the ninety minute drive to his parent’s house, feeling the strain of his injury after only a half-day of work. Diana listens to talk radio and clicks her fingernails impatiently on the steering wheel, sighing with relief when they pull into the long paved driveway of the Dutch Colonial house.

“We’re here, Jeff,” she says, patting the top of his thigh to rouse him.

They park, retrieve a bottle of wine and a loaf of focaccia from the back seat, and approach the front door. He lifts his hand to knock, but before he can make contact, the door swings open and reveals the worried face of his mother.

“Jeff,” she says haltingly, giving him a once over from head to foot. “How are you feeling?”

He glances at Diana with furrowed eyebrows. It wouldn’t be like her to inform his mother of his little encounter with Mr. Porter, but it’s clear that she’s worried about his well-being.

“I’m fine, Mom,” he says lightly, but the concerned pinch of her face doesn’t let up. “Can we come in?” he asks with a shy smile, and she steps aside to allow them entrance.

“I’m going to put these in the kitchen, Teena,” Diana informs her as she makes her way down the hall. “Is there anything I can help with for dinner?”

“No, thank you, Diana,” Teena replies blandly, still inspecting her son as though seeing him for the very first time.

“Are you okay, Mom?” he asks, touching her shoulder, and she jumps a little, regarding him with surprise.

“I’m fine, Jeff. Just fine. Let’s go have dinner.”

He follows her into the kitchen, where Diana is uncorking the wine. His father is standing at one end of the long counter, a pleased smile on his mouth.

“What’s the latest with the Spurious deal? Any movement in Baltimore?” Diana asks, setting out four glasses.

“Everything is going swimmingly,” his father replies. “Perfectly to plan.” He turns to look at his son and his smile broadens, deepening the wrinkles at the corner of his eyes. “Jeff! It’s wonderful to see you, son. How are you?”

“I’m good, Dad. Yourself?” he answers, offering his hand to shake.

“Nonsense, Jeff, give your father a hug,” his father insists, stepping past the proffered hand and extending his arms.

He smells like Old Spice and stale cigarettes, and the hug is brief and somewhat awkward.

“When did you become a hugger, Carl?” Diana asks teasingly, and Carl balks.

“A father should hug his son,” he says defensively.

“Dinner is ready,” Teena pipes in, her demeanor still standoffish and perturbed. “Carl, will you please cut the bread?”

“Of course, my dear. I’d be happy to,” Carl says jovially, and they file into the dining room, wine glasses in hand.

Teena has prepared meatloaf, mashed potatoes, peas and a green salad, and they discuss local and national politics while they eat. Diana and Carl have an easy, practiced banter, while Teena is quiet and sullen. He catches her watching him each time he looks her way, an apprehensive expression on her face, and thinks to himself that he’d like to get her alone later and try to find out what’s on her mind.

“Oh, did you tell Jeff about the foundation, dear?” Carl interjects, and Teena shifts uncomfortably in her seat.

“No, you go on ahead,” she says, pushing peas around her plate with her fork.

“Great news,” Carl says, beaming at him. “The Children’s Leukemia Foundation has established a grant in Samantha’s honor. It will be awarded annually to the family with the greatest need, and will cover the complete cost of treatment and housing. Isn’t that incredible?”

“Wow,” Jeff says, taken aback. “That’s amazing. I didn’t know that something like that was in the works.”

“Nor did we, son. It was a tremendous surprise. What a beautiful way to remember your sister,” Carl says. “They’re calling it the Samantha Ann Spender Hopes and Dreams Grant.”

Jeff nods, forcing a smile. He looks over at his mother and finds her staring vacantly at her water glass, her eyes shimmering.

“Dinner was delicious, Teena. I’m going to step outside for a smoke,” Carl says as he pushes his chair back and stands.

“I thought you were going to quit, Dad,” Jeff says sternly, and Carl brushes him off with the wave of a hand.

“I’m an old man, Jeff. Let me enjoy life’s little pleasures, eh?”

“I’ll join you, Carl,” Diana says, stacking her plate on top of Teena’s and taking them both to the kitchen. “My little pleasure is inhaling the second hand smoke.”

Alone at the table, he watches his mother until she lifts her head and pushes her mouth into a thin smile.

“That’s great, about the grant,” he says, and she nods. “Still hard to talk about, though, huh?”

“Yes,” she rasps, then takes a sip from her water. “I think it may always be difficult to talk about your sister.”

He stands from the table and lays a reassuring hand on her shoulder, then clears all the dishes and cutlery. In the kitchen, he’s rinsing plates and loading the dishwasher when the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end, and he has the distinct feeling he’s being watched. He flashes his eyes over to the window and finds Diana and his father standing side by side, her arms crossed over her chest and his hand holding a lit cigarette to his lips. Upon realizing that he sees them, Diana lifts one hand and waves, smiling. He waves back, but something in the back of his mind is sending him a warning signal that he doesn’t understand.

He’s grateful when Diana offers to drive home. Streetlights flash in bursts of red through his eyelids as he calls forth hazy memories of Samantha’s final days. Her pale, drawn skin, the dark hallows under her eyes, her dry, cracked lips. At twelve, he understood and yet also could not possibly understand what was happening. That his little sister would be gone forever, that there was to be no recovery, no coming back. For months after her death he dreamt of alternative explanations, of bright flashing lights and bad men taking her away. His parents finally sent him to a therapist in an attempt to help him understand the finality and the senselessness. Samantha was gone. Dead. Not lost, not missing. Never coming back.

They slump through the door at nearly midnight, and Diana hands him his blood pressure medication before she heads upstairs to get ready for bed. He swallows the pill and an entire glass of water, then takes Frenchie for a quick walk. By the time he crawls into bed, Diana is already snoring softly, but he finds himself tossing and turning, unable to succumb to sleep. When he finally drifts off, he has the dream again. The one where he is frozen in fear, and Samantha is calling for him, and there’s nothing he can do. He’s helpless, just like he was in reality, to help her.

It’s a truth he will seemingly never be able to recover from.

Tagging @today-in-fic ay

[toomuchracket]

sunshine baby inspired oneshot w/ d word matty would be so cute

like it's summer, he's brought you on vacation and you're escaping everything for a few weeks, just the two of you driving around in his car ...

yes! the first thing that popped into my head was you guys being over in l.a. for work purposes, but there's a break scheduled for everyone after a week or so of press/shows/whatever. and neither you or matty can wait for work to be done - the plan is to spend a couple of weeks on the west coast, just you and him and the summer sunshine with nobody around to bother you, which starts as soon as the final show ends. and it's not the first time you've been away together - he's whisked you on city breaks across europe, to long weekends at spas in the english countryside, to a week in a cottage up the north of scotland - but it's the longest amount of time you'll have spent alone together since you started seeing matty, so you're fucking buzzing. like, on top of all your duties at work, you've made it your business to keep a note of exactly how long it is until you and your boyf can go away together; the whole week, whenever you walk past matty, you'll spout the days/hours/minutes to him so excitedly, and he finds it fucking adorable (because he's just as excited as you are). the morning after the final show, you say your goodbyes to everyone at the hotel, before matty's dragging you outside and into a convertible - he absolutely does something cheesy like kisses you deeply and says "sunglasses on, babe, let's go" before driving off. and matty knows the whole "driving with your lover through california in a vintage car" is very lana del rey coded, but so is your relationship in general lmao (literally the d word thing began with "ride"), so i think he leans into it a little bit for funsies - you guys stay at the chateau marmont for a few nights, exploring hollywood and laurel canyon, before driving up the pacific coast highway and ending up in san fran over the course of a couple of weeks, stopping off here and there for a night or two. and it's just so perfect - it's the two of you just having all the time in the world to spend loving and getting lost both with and in each other, exploring places neither of you have ever been and making amazing memories, everything warm and dappled with sunshine and totally idyllic. it might even be the time/locale of the first "i love you"; imagining the two of you staying in some beach house for the night, and you're sat out on a blanket on the sand together watching the sunset over the pacific ocean. the post-sex glow is lingering over you both, and you're curled up to matty wearing one of his t-shirts, the two of you totally content - i think he'd look at you, eyes sparkling as you watch the sea and the sky, and just be so overcome with love for you that he just quietly says "i love you", and you smile, turning to him and saying "i love you too", and you both know the other means it <3

[chaotic-on-main]

from your ice cream truck can i request a vanilla bean sugar cone with fresh fruit, please and thank you <3

Order up!! One vanilla bean sugar cone with fresh fruit for Izzy and Mirror!! Sky's Summer and 250 Follower Event!

☾ Pairings ➼ Armin Arlert x gn!Reader

☾ Content/Warnings ➼ fluff, established relationship, modernAU, suggestive content, aged up

☾ Author's Note ➼ Hi Izzy and Mirror! I really enjoyed this one! It's so cute and I just love the idea of taking Armin to the beach. Just his cute little face UGH. This of course is an aged up blue-eyed blonde! I'm kind of tempted to write more for this but alas, I must continue on with my other requests for now. I hope y'all like it!! <3

☾ Word Count ➼ ~2.6k

As the late afternoon sun lingers high for this time of the year, the small trees that litter the front yard of the home you and Armin share are chock-full of birds singing as they get ready for the evening. After hours of packing the necessities for a weekend getaway, you find yourself sitting on the porch step with your car keys twirling around your forefinger as you wait for your fiancé to come home from work.

Your foot taps in anticipation at the thought of traveling. Ever since you and Armin moved, neither of you have been able to take time off to do something out of town, more so you than him since you were always on call. Fortunately, you were able to pull the necessary strings with your boss and even better was the opportunity to hire a dog-sitter at the very last minute.

The hotel was booked as soon as you got the confirmation for time off and now you sit waiting for the 5 hour drive west. All you needed was your future husband who had no idea about the trip you had planned for the next few days.

About a quarter of an hour passes and finally, you see Armin’s cobalt sedan pull into the cul-de-sac and right into the small driveway. You wave your hand with a grin at his wide eyes, no doubt surprised at seeing you sitting on the brick steps. You’re quick to jump up and skip over to the driver’s side door, opening it for Armin before he can do it. His laughter becomes louder as it’s pulled open, and he stares up at you with a mixture of concern and amusement.

“What are you doing, love?” He chuckles, sliding himself out of the seat so that he’s standing in front of you. Pulling him down by his tie, you place your lips over his and he’s quick to kiss back, despite the physical shock of your quick actions. When he breaks away, you see his face blush a bright pink that blooms across his nose.

“I love what you’re doing, but what’s going on?” He mumbles down at you, his heart jumping at your beautiful smile.

“I need you out of that suit, mister.” You say coyly.

“I-w-what? I just got home.” His eyebrows shoot to the top of his face, eyes as big as saucers at your audacious statement.

“Don’t get it twisted. I need you in comfy clothes and back out here in ten minutes.” You place your hands over his chest and lean up for another chaste kiss. When you pull away, he stands dumbfounded at your statement. You jut your bottom lip out in a pout at him.

“What? You don’t trust me?”

“I-I do. This is just so sudden.” He stutters.

“I know! That’s the point. Go change!!” You beam at him.

He nods reluctantly and brushes past you heading for the front door. Your eyes spot his forgotten bag sitting in the passenger seat and you shout Armin’s name before he can disappear. You reach down and grab it with tight fingers then whip around, closing the door with your foot. Armin’s head pops out of the doorframe to see what you need and before thinking, you toss it his way. His reflexes kick in as he catches it with a sheepish smile.

“Put that somewhere in the closet, you won’t be needing it.” You say.

Before Armin had come home, you packed your car with the bags and snacks needed for the trip down to be as efficient as possible. The thought of how excited he was going to be makes you feel giddy, warmth spreading from your heart all through your body to the tips of your toes. He deserved this trip and you were so excited to finally give it to him.

Your blue-eyed blonde finally comes bounding down the steps in a pair of jeans and soft t-shirt, his own pair of keys being tucked away from him locking the front door. He gives you a puzzled look at you in the driver's side, an unusual sight for him when it comes to driving with both of you. You normally prefer to have Armin drive, but this was a surprise, you didn’t want him to find out what it was until you both arrived at the destination.

When he slides in the passenger side, the scent of musty book pages and lemons wafts your way. Armin’s archivist position always made it, so he smelled like the library he worked in whenever he came home. The lemon scent came from the body wash he’s used for years, something you never wanted to change as it was a comfort to you. You inhale softly as you look over to him, who is currently giving you a still very perplexed expression.

“So, are you going to tell me where we’re heading at 3 in the afternoon?” An eyebrow raises at you when you pinch your pointer and thumb together and drag them across your lips in a zipper motion. He hums and turns to buckle himself in.

“Okay, well just so you know, the life insurance doesn’t kick in until we get married so if you’re planning to kill me now, it’s the wrong time.” You laugh hard at that. A goofy grin lights up his face as he watches you double over. 

“Oh believe me, if I murder you, I’ll be smart about it. I don’t watch all those crime shows for nothing. I’ve been thinking of a ‘Gone Girl’ type of situation.” You joke back, reaching over to pat the top of his head. “Don’t worry, ‘Min! It’s going to take some time, but it’ll be worth it, I promise!” You shoot him a wink before shifting the vibrating car into reverse and pulling out of the driveway.

.

About 3 hours into the drive, you hear the soft snores belonging to Armin off to the side. You imagine the heavy dinner you both stopped for finally made his exhaustion win out, not like you were complaining. You side eye his soft face that rests against the seat belt, his cheek squishing against it in the most adorable way. Blonde hair falls in his face, the same-colored long eyelashes resting gently on his cheekbones. If you weren’t driving, you would lean over and kiss his adorable face.

The car zips past rows of fields full of miscellaneous agriculture, blowing in the mid-summer breeze. You’ve been on the highway going a steady 70mph with no interruptions and you thank whoever is looking out for you for giving you a peaceful drive. By this time, the sun off to the west is lower in the sky than when you had left, but it is still nowhere close to sunset. One of the best perks of summer. You reach over to brush some hair out of Armin’s face, laughing softly at him twitching in his sleep, before pinching the volume dial and turning it up slightly.

A few hours later and you’re pulling into the lot belonging to the small hotel you had booked a few weeks ago. It wasn’t anything to ride home about, but the hotel was affordable and within walking distance of Armin’s gift. As you set the car in park, you reach over and gently shake Armin by the arm to rouse him awake. He hums softly as his eyes flutter open at you, glassy and bright shining at you under the orange hues of the incoming sunset.

“Hey, we’re here.” You say with a great smile.

He blinks at you a few times as he wakes up. The seat underneath him squeaks as he sits up fully and does a big stretch, his body stiff from the position he was in for the last leg of the trip. His vision scans the surroundings and luckily nothing gives away his surprise. He does, however, raise an eyebrow at you again. A quiet laugh escapes you as you see the red line that mars the side of his face from the seatbelt he was resting on.

“Are you going to tell me where we are, now?” He runs a hand through his hair to get it back in place. You reach over to ruffle it which results in him swatting at you with a pout, but there’s a hint of amusement in his expression.

“Why don’t you get out and tell me.” You unbuckle your seat belt as you talk, shooting him another coy smile.

He cinches his eyebrows together but unbuckles his own seatbelt before cracking the door open and sliding himself out. All you can see is his lower half as he stands tall, turning around slowly as he takes in the sights, smells, sounds, and feels.

Instantly, you’re hit with the warm humidity, already making your clothes stick to your skin. Your nose is filled with salty air and a hint of cooking meat from the restaurant next door. It’s muffled, but you hear the distant crash of waves coming from behind the hotel building. You sense Armin freezing in place as realization dawns on him.

You push your door open and slide yourself out, turning your head to look at Armin over the top of the car. His gaze slowly shifts over to you, one of the biggest smiles you’ve seen plastered on his face. Those blue eyes of his, so big and full of love for you, staring straight at you. He’s in full shock, and because of that your own shit-eating grin curves up into your face.

“Are we where I think we are?” He says softly, voice trembling.

“Why don’t we go see?” You reply, closing your door with a gentle slam. Walking around the front of the car, you stretch a hand out for him to take which he does without hesitation. He ends up taking the lead, not thinking as his excitement takes over and practically drags you along.

Eventually, the pavement underneath your shoes turns into soft sand, crunching with every step. Armin leads you past a deteriorating wooden fence held together by thin wire and up a sand dune separated by grassy sections. When you both peak, everything goes silent as you both hold a breath at the sight ahead.

The sun sits right above the ocean, just kissing the edge of the water. The sky is painted bright oranges, pinks, and purples as the light bids itself goodnight. There are only a few people on the beach, packing up their belongings from the hours spent in the water. A couple of kids run by with their shrieks of laughter trailing behind them like their kites high in the sky.

You feel Armin’s hand squeeze yours gently. When you look over to him, you’re met with his shining stare that reflects so beautifully off the sky. They’re crinkled in the corners from the loving smile he’s giving you.

“You did all of this for me?” He whispers.

“Of course I did, ‘Min. I see how hard you’re working and you deserve everything nice. I know you were talking about going to the ocean one day so…” You give him a smile so big it closes your eyes just briefly. You feel his forehead resting on yours and you both stand there for a moment, taking in the sounds of the waves crashing and the seagulls calling out for each other from above.

“Thank you. For taking me to the sea and for loving me the way you do.” He says quietly. He pulls away and looks down at you. Before you know it, he’s sliding down the sand with you in hand and leads you down to the water line.

“Armin! We’re not in our bathing suits!” You exclaim from behind. Your voice gets lost in the salty ocean breeze as you’re being pulled along. He doesn’t stop until you’re both at the edge of where the waves reach. He’s pulling his shoes off and tugging his pant legs up so they don’t get wet. Blue eyes find yours in the middle of this and you can’t help but laugh at the child-like expression gracing his features. With just a look, you’re doing the same quickly, pulling off your shoes and socks and thanking your past self for putting yourself into some cozy shorts for the drive.

Shoes now discarded, you both stare at each other. As if reading each other’s mind, you both take a few steps until your feet are submerged into the warmth of the surf. The sand shifting underneath the pads of your toes tickles almost and you don’t hold back the gleeful laugh.

You’ve been to the ocean before, though it has been many years. But this was Armin’s first time. Growing up with only his elderly grandfather and subsequently losing him early on didn’t grant him the opportunities to see the coast. When you both met, you promised you’d take him one day.

sYou watch as Armin chuckles to himself softly at the feeling of the saltwater rushing over his ankles.

You’re glad you were able to finally take him.

You’re so lost in thought that you don’t notice until it’s too late that Armin is dragging you more into the water. The bottom of his pants is painted dark blue from the wet, but he doesn’t have a care in the world. His sights are set on you as he pulls you and does the unthinkable – falling back into the water and taking you with him.

All you hear is the rumbling of waves and popping of bubbles around you as you sink into the ocean water. You’re able to shut your eyes and shut your mouth holding a yelp about to escape before any water can make it in.

You shoot back up to the surface while gasping for air. Armin stands next to you with his gaze locked on the sun off in the horizon, just barely peeking over the water.

“Armin, now we have to trek through the ho-“ You’re cut off by Armin’s lips crashing down on yours. You taste the salt immediately mixed in with his saliva as he deepens the kiss, tilting your chin up into him with a finger. You’re quick to melt into his hold on you.

He pulls away and stares down at you. Those captivating eyes of his makes your stomach do flips. You didn’t think there was anything that would make you love this man any more than you already did but the way he looks at you with his wet hair flipped back and out of his face makes your heart jump.

Your body moves faster than your mind as you find yourself leaping up on Armin, legs wrapped around his waist as your arms do the same around his neck. Your mouth finds his again and you don’t hesitate to slide your tongue through his parted lips, flicking at his. He hums into the kiss, and you feel the corners of his mouth pull up into a smile.

You feel his hands make their way under your ass and grips tight, manicured nails digging straight in your flesh. One hand then makes its way into your shirt and up your back, no doubt leaving red trail marks as his fingers drag up your skin. Pulling away, you bite the bottom of his lip gently before fully facing him.

“You know, we have a perfectly dry hotel room we could use.” You chuckle softly.

Needless to say, the check-in process at the front desk was just as awkward as it was to get the soaking wet clothes off each other’s body as quickly as possible the moment you both made it to the room.  

[69misato69]

Ceasefire (Kaveh x Alhaitham) ✦ 2k, smut

archive of our own ✦ twitter

masterlist pinned on my profile !

kaveh gets a little too flirty at the tavern and haitham is not having it

cw: slight overstimulation, anal fingering, anal sex, consensual penetrative unprotected gay sex, no lube, ejaculation

Top Kaveh x Bottom Alhaitham

writer's note: explicit +18 content, please view at your own risk. thank you, have fun !

“For you, sir. Courtesy of the kind gentleman over there.” The waitress pointed at the table in the corner. This was the fifth round of drinks that were treats from other customers at the tavern, not to mention the plates of food and fruit bowls stacked to the side of the table. Kaveh smiled towards the man, him raising his glass in delight. 

“Why the long face? I’m getting free drinks for both of us, so drink up.” Kaveh babbled. Alhaitham’s head was aching from rolling his eyes all evening, “They’re for you, not me. I’m not the one blowing around kisses and twirling my hair.” Kaveh laughed slyly, though the Grand Scribe had been complaining all throughout the servings he still brought the cup to his lips, murmuring under his breath, “You’re so easy.” 

“Just because you wanna waste away your beauty with that frown, doesn’t mean everyone else should too.” Kaveh rested his elbow on the table and his cheek on his right palm, gazing into his roommate’s eyes. 

“I promise you, it’s not that deep.”

“No, I agree. It’s not deep at all, you’re just jealous.”

“Jealous of you? Don’t make me laugh.”

“Oh, you’re not? Then you wouldn’t mind if I went to sit with that kind gentleman for a bit? These drinks were very expensive after all.”

Alhaitham gulped, clearing his throat before speaking, “Why would I mind? We’re just two roommates, aren’t we?” he could feel Kaveh’s gaze upon him but he refused to form eye contact, pupils fixated on the pattern of the cup in his hand. “I’ll head home, Kaveh. We don’t have a tab to pick up anyways. Have fun.” he got up from his seat, heading for the door with zero expectations of the blonde following him. 

He entered their shared home, though it was a chilly summer night, the house kept warm with the walls absorbing the sunlight all day. He washed up, stripping down to his underwear before he got into bed. Mental and physical exhaustion gradually came over Alhaitham’s body, he hated that no matter how tired, his brain still had the energy to think about Kaveh. 

“Asshole.” he said to himself, images of the night popping up into his head. Though it was very annoying, he couldn’t help but think how beautiful Kaveh looked, his hair flowing without the restraint of the clips he had all day, golden locks being twirled around his slender fingers. He could still hear it, how Kaveh pretended to say something and instead moaned and whimpered in his ear while Alhaitham’s hand slipped inside his pants in the dim-lit tavern without anyone noticing. 

Mere glimpses from a few hours ago, but of course he had to go ahead and ruin it. In the deafening silence of his own empty room, he heard the key turn in the main door, followed by the floor creaking. “Are you asleep, Haitham?” Kaveh’s voice protruded from the wooden bedroom door. No answer, the blonde peaked inside the room, finding his roommate wide awake with his arms crossed. “Oh, you gave up on your customer?” Alhaitham jested.

“Are you implying that I’m a whore?”

“I wasn’t implying.”

“Come on, don’t be like that.” Kaveh slithered into the bed, settling on Alhaitham’s lap while the taller man maintained the same cold expression, refusing to acknowledge his presence. Kaveh’s fingers trailed over his exposed shoulders and collarbones, he carefully examined the light bouncing off from the crevices, the shadows almost strategically enhancing the beauty of his muscles. 

Kaveh couldn’t resist pressing a deep kiss onto his neck, his warm breath hovering over the soft skin. Alhaitham felt a shiver run down his spine as he fought giving in to the tingling sensation, he was determined not to give Kaveh the satisfaction. His kisses kept trailing up and down in an attempt to draw a reaction out of the Grand Scribe, but he maintained his composure. “Can I make it up to you? I’ll let you do whatever you want.” Kaveh spoke into his ear seductively. 

“I don’t wanna touch you.”

“But you played with me under the table all night.”

“I changed my mind.”

“That’s a shame… Would you like me to touch you instead?”

Alhaitham felt his face heat up, he was speechless for a mere second, but before he could speak, the blonde pulled away and stared at his blushing cheeks. Kaveh was used to their fast-paced bickering, tossing the arguments around and debunking them in the matter of seconds, it was extremely rare that Alhaitham would fail to fabricate a comeback, so why had he paused, with rosy cheeks and the slightly softened, now a tad bit worried expression?

Kaveh smirked, it was such a small moment, but the nuance had sealed his victory, “Oh, so that’s your problem. I’ll gladly take care of it.” the blonde sank even more on his hips. Alhaitham scoffed, “You’re my problem, Kaveh.”

Regardless, he was getting harder the more his roommate grinded on him. He felt blood rush to his lower abdomen, heart racing faster with every passing second. “Your body is telling me otherwise.” Kaveh stated with an impertinent tone. He got off the taller man’s lap, settling on his knees right beside him and snuggling close to his chest. Alhaitham, no matter how much he was struggling, maintained eye contact as Kaveh’s hand trailed inside his underwear. 

He slipped one finger in, seeing that there was no opposition. He examined Alhaitham’s mimics, looking for a sign of pleasure or surprise, but he was terribly good at controlling his expression. Not a single muscle moved as Kaveh added another finger, and shortly after even a third. The only noticeable difference was the growing erection between his thighs. 

“Want to lube me up?” Kaveh asked slyly, Alhaitham rolled his eyes, if there was one thing he would never do right now, it was sucking Kaveh off. The blonde chuckled, “Alright, it’s your funeral.” 

“You’re not talking to me?” Kaveh kept trying his luck. Alhaitham continued to look at him daringly, not making a single sound as Kaveh’s fingers explored his insides diligently, stretching the walls and prepping him. He pulled away, the smug grin now replaced by a frustrated expression, “Brat. I’ll fuck that attitude out of you.” he swiftly rose to his knees and lined up with his roommate’s entrance. 

Alhaitham’s brows furrowed. He wanted to cuss Kaveh out so badly, wanted to tell him what a shithead he had been all night, most days in fact. But that would only turn him on more. So he kept quiet, but it was taking everything he had. The veins on his forehead were throbbing, his wrists hurt from squeezing his fists for so long. Some part of him really wanted to let go, allow Kaveh to take care of him, as irritating as he got, he was dangerously good at making Alhaitham feel good. 

“Still silent? Come on, I wanna hear you moan for me.” Kaveh pushed the tip in slowly. Before it was even halfway in, Alhaitham had closed his eyes, trying to distract himself from how good it felt, they fitted each other perfectly, like two puzzle pieces, Kaveh’s hands roamed his thighs and hips, feeling the pulsation, no matter how much Alhaitham tried, Kaveh could very easily tell that he was burning up with desire. 

Tired of trying to break him down, Kaveh decided to plunge deep inside him in one go, Alhaitham’s eyes first unveiled, than widened at the sudden intrusion as he gasped loudly, his sentences were broken up by Kaveh’s thrusts, his incoherent words finally fusing into needy moans. It was past the point of return, but it just simply felt too good. Kaveh put his hand on the bed to the side of Alhaitham’s head, towering over him with a grin, “Finally. You can’t behave for shit until I’m 8 inches deep.”

Alhaitham wanted to object, but everytime he tried to talk Kaveh picked up the pace, teasing him verbally without allowing him to answer. “If you could stop being a stuck-up, stubborn idiot maybe we wouldn’t fight as much, don’t you think so, Haitham?” he slowed down, both of them grunting and breathing heavily. 

Alhaitham opened his mouth, before he could speak he felt Kaveh push into his prostate, still going slow, with every thrust he went in deeper, “Look at you now, a pretty slut that deserves to be filled up.” he purred, stuffing him all the way and holding the position for nearly half a minute, all of his weight pressuring the most sensitive spot on Alhaitham’s body. 

“Kaveh…” he sounded so desperate, tears pooling around his eyes from the overwhelming pleasure. The blonde cupped his cheek, “You’re so cute when you’re jealous.” he jested. “I wasn’t j—Ah!” Kaveh pulled away and thrusted back in the middle of the sentence, “Okay, fine. I was.” Alhaitham redacted. 

“The world may be oblivious, but we know whom I belong to, Haitham. One way or another I’ll end up in your arms, I’m sure you know that.” 

“Then—start acting like it.”

“Why does it bother you so much?”

“Shut up.”

“Spill it, or I’ll stop.”

Alhaitham sighed in exasperation, his mind was fogged up, torn between pleasure and anger. He struggled to speak in between growls and grunts while the blonde kept railing him viciously. “Kaveh, you—fucking dumbass. It bothers me because you’re whoring around all the fucking time and I’m the one that has to endure it. Tell me, why do I have to watch a drunk piece of shit grab your ass or send you drinks, or—call you disgusting nonsense? Do you not see them eyeing you up and down and licking their lips, or are you playing dumb?”

Kaveh’s grin widened the more his roommate ranted, his chest heaving trying to contain himself. Kaveh could get off solely on Alhaitham squirming and yelling if he wanted to. He didn’t answer, allowing the Grand Scribe to reach the conclusion on his own. “You’re just doing it to piss me off, aren’t you?” Alhaitham hissed. Kaveh’s laugh filled the room, “It’s simply too fun.” 

“Next time you decide to play these stupid games with me, go sleep in someone else’s bed.”

“Ah… But then who’s gonna pound you all night?” 

Kaveh leaned in, leaving a mere inch between their faces, “Who’s gonna take care of my good boy if I’m gone, hm?”

“Shut the fu—” He got cut off when Kaveh encased his lips with his own, the tip of his dick reaching even further back when their chests touched. His tongue slid inside, absorbing and muffling the sounds that escaped Alhaitham’s mouth. “Fuck… H—hurts.” he whined, though still grinding up at the blonde. 

Kaveh grabbed a handful of his hair and pinned his head to the bed, “Good. You like it?” he growled hungrily. Alhaitham affirmed, too euphoric to talk at the moment, his entire body was convulsing with pleasure. “Of course you do… Always so perfect for me.” Kaveh generously abused all the sensitive areas on his neck with his teeth and lips. “I’ll take better care of you.” he mewled against Alhaitham’s ear, “My precious flower, I promise.”   

“Kaveh…” Alhaitham would hate to hear these unless he was this needy and flustered, but right now it felt amazing, he wanted Kaveh’s praise, all of it. His attention and affection, the hungry gaze in his eyes as he devoured every corner of Alhaitham’s body, he needed all of it. He didn’t know how to exist without it, severely addicted to Kaveh’s presence, his warmth next to him on the bed, his snarky remarks all throughout his day, his lips over Alhaitham’s the second they came home from work.  

Kaveh was such a casual component of his day, yet everything about him was unbelievably special. From his usual daring self to this demanding yet soft side, Alhaitham adored every part of him, even the things he liked to complain about. Kaveh looked at him affectionately, “I love watching you unfold under me, you look delicious.” his low, velvety tone was sending an electric current down Alhaitham’s spine. His skin was covered in bite marks and hickeys, lower body coated in his precum as he chased his own release. 

Kaveh was close as well, they could both read each other’s body language almost flawlessly. The sparkle inside Kaveh’s eyes was growing fainter, brows now raised while Alhaitham’s grip on the sheets became tighter, his eyes were almost closed, catching a slight glimpse of Kaveh’s blonde hair as he held Alhaitham close, a few more thrusts before they released almost simultaneously.  

And it finally felt calm, Alhaitham blissfully sinking into his arms as the night drew near an end. Kaveh loved peace, with his beloved in their cozy abode. But ironically enough, if there was anything he liked more than peace, it was chaos. 

[cyberfunsupporter]

ranking the red velvet album covers, be warned this’ll be long

halfway through tumblr deleted my draft so um…

1-3 🏆

28 reasons very visually pleasing. the red and the black go so well together and the mirror showing seulgi is just creative genius. absolute fav, i could stare at it forever to be honest. not to mention it perfectly reflects the album’s contents which is a huge bonus for me

the red summer i have a huge soft spot for covers with a lot going on actually. the cover’s fun, very summer and even with vibrant colors that would normally clash in the real world, it’s somehow satisfying. i love all of the details too and the way the members are positioned on the cover. so fun

rbb the positioning of the members + the teeth is just fun to see. it’s definitely different from a lot of their other covers which makes it more interesting for me as well. i also just really like their outfits, especially yeri’s

4-6 🏅

chill kill what’s funny to me about this one is the fact it’s photoshopped like omg they couldn’t even get an ot5 pic wow. but i like the overall vibe of it a lot and it’s a drastic change from red velvet’s typical colorful covers, which also makes this one stand out to me. i also am just a huge fan of this album anyway and think the feeling of it was perfectly executed which obviously extends to the cover since that plays a huge role in the concept anyway

perfect velvet okay actually this used to my favorite album, cover, concept, etc… it’s definitely their prettiest & most visually interesting, but i’ve grown. it’s still really cool and my fav part is the incorporation of the title but i don’t think it’s their absolute best cover regardless of its quality and general appeal LOL. it’s been a bit overdone i think? still a huge fav tho

the red it’s iconic and very pretty. honestly i don’t have much to say because it’s just that good. it really pops. eye candy for me

reve festival is actually not in order of how i’d rank the covers because i have a more pressing criticism regarding the overall trilogy’s design

they’re all meant to be connected, yet finale is randomly like. SO different. it doesn’t even have a rollercoaster that connects through it the way day 1 and day 2 have… sm paid for a cover to be made and couldn’t scrounge up a couple more pennies for a damn rollercoaster 😭 i just hate that disconnect so much because they’re literally MEANT TO GO TOGETHER and they already did that for 2/3 of the albums so idk why finale’s suddenly different. ugh

anyway, onto the actual ranking:

finale it’s the most creative and very cute. i love the house details w the velvets inside + one trapped under the house, as well as the surroundings. typically not a fan of green but this shade is pleasing to my eyes

day 2 the purple is very beautiful especially when combined with the red of the rollercoaster. the “events” on the cover are also really cutely designed and it def appeals to me a lot

day 1 my main complaint is the yellow. i hate the color yellow and this shade in particular is offensive to my eyes. i like the rest of the cover though which is a shame… but that’s why it’s so high for me; everything BUT the background color is great. it’s fun

10-12 🎖️

rookie it’s very eye catching, the blue is wonderful and the positioning of the titles as well as the members is creative and i like it a lot. also having seulgi in the middle is another part i enjoy, simply because she has an interesting pose and i feel like it tells you a lot about the album’s sound

bloom what annoys me is the fact the title seems to be off center? but i like the overall feel of the cover and the doodles are really cute

sappy it’s cute and charming, their styling is unique and i love the colors!!! it does kind of bother me that wendy, irene, and yeri have similar hair colors and then joy and seulgi don’t but it’s just a minor thing. i do love their hair colors it’s just the inconsistency/out of nowhere-ness that can grate me a little bit. but overall very fun and cute

13-15 🎖️

the velvet well this one is just pretty. idk why yeri’s blurred out though 💀

feel my rhythm i like the logo being in the clouds. cute, fun, very springtime, good colors

power up love a good ot5 focused cover. the background is a bit boring but i don’t really care because the velvets make it interesting

16-18 🎖️

the perfect red velvet one of my fav covers however i can recognize it’s not as visually interesting as a lot of red velvet’s covers. i love the fact it looks like a movie poster though so it’s definitely very special to me

birthday UNDERRATED. IDGAF. the pink is perfect, the design is engaging and vibrant… the logo is unique…. very solid cover

ice cream cake see i’m fond of this because it represents when red velvet really began & became 5. however the bg doodles are a bit too pale which makes the cover seem kinda bland otherwise. the drawing of all 5 members is pretty though so

19-21 🎖️

happiness once again i’m very fond of a slightly overwhelming and very colorful cover. the editing is kooky which i enjoy although many people don’t like it, it just radiates 2014 and i just luv what red velvet did with what they had in that time period. it’s so fun!!

queendom i like this cover and the colors are nice but i also think some of the concept photos for this could’ve been better suited to be the cover. i do like that it looks like they’re all just kinda hanging out tho

hello the background is just a boring white but joy’s pose combined with her outfit really makes it pop to me. like my eyes are consistently drawn to it because of that

22-24 🎖️

be natural i like the pose and the monochrome, and the logo is really cool to me and def unique… a yeri-less rbb kinda. the white at the top cutting off the photo can be bothersome though

monster well the colors are just too boring for me but everything else is nice. the pose is good, the feeling radiating off of irene and seulgi is special, etc

wish you hell this one’s nice because it really feels like wendy. the helmet and the tag on the side are sooo cute. however in comparison to other covers it is a bit on the blander side which is why it’s so low, but i really like it!!!!

25-27 🎖️

russian roulette this one is definitely boring since it’s just the logo but i like the logo + combo of colors enough for it to outrank the next couple covers LOLLL. the title going through the heart as an arrow is just so cutesy

cosmic the album’s so vibrant and dreamy yet this cover represents none of that. i don’t get that feeling from this photo at all, not to mention the logo’s just slapped on there. i love the mysterious hotel concept but it was poorly executed which is why the cover falls flat for me despite it utilizing one of my fav parts of the concept… and tbh idk why they didn’t do something more similar to midsommar promo or at least something dreamy like that. just feels weird and a bit disappointing. they’re beautiful though

cookie jar boring & washed out… i love their stylings though which makes me feel better about it. the cover also does actually look like a cookie tin which is charming

… 28 👎

like water i loveee wendy i really do. her voice is angelic, she’s beautiful… but this cover is so boring. boring colors, no pose, not even a title or anything particularly special to make up for it. just wendy standing and a W slapped on there. not to mention the album just is completely not wendy’s vibe or vision so the whole album is just not very entertaining for me. it makes me sad that sm tried to force her into doing ballads forever 😭… so idk i just don’t feel very much for this cover nor the album. i’m so sorry wendy. u are so loved but they did u so dirty w your debut album…

[hislittleraincloud]

I just wanted to contribute to your recent ask, if that's okay and I will be hiding behind an anonymous face, so apologies in advance but I'm anxious about backlash from others since I'm active in the fandom and I may piss some people off.

I agree with your statements about the incorrect use of nicknames toward whichever partner Wednesday is paired up with, it makes me cringe so much, especially with the 'Cara Mia' because like you, I cannot see Ortega's Wednesday using the same pet names that her parents use. Some people go ridiculously overboard with it, and I really enjoyed your breakdown over the incorrect use of the French pet names. Wednesday despises the sappy love between her parents, I highly doubt she would mimic that.

I've seen your posts pop up occasionally, I like some of the art you share, and I did try reading your story out of curiosity. But it did make me uncomfortable with the underage stuff due to past experiences, and that is okay for me to admit and doesn't mean you're a bad person for writing it. It's a fanfiction ffs, the same people upset about your pairing are probably having wet dreams over Wednesday murdering people or some other illegal shit 🤷‍♀️

I have respect for you as a person and writer, and how you've brought awareness to the transphobic nature of some fics, we don't need that in this fandom.

Nothing better to offset anon hate than anon respect. 💖✨

It's always okay to drop anything in my inbox if you're afraid of backlash due to popular shipping, but "YOU PERVERT, IT'S R#PE!!!" judgement should not be faceless. 🥹

It's also always okay to give reason to why any fic or pairing is something you avoid due to trauma, and you shouldn't have to say that aloud. At least, you don't to me. I sincerely hope that my post didn't come across as "U MUST READ MY SHIT NO MATTER WHAT BEFORE YOU JUDGE IT" to those (like you) who have terrible trauma surrounding the subject/content. If you have such trauma, then my tags should've been a warning, and I completely understand why you would not want to read it.

Hm, I'm also agreeing w the whole subject matter in general thing. I've seen a few fics where Wednesday is r#ped and/or tortured (usually by Tyler or Gatesmonster), but apparently others do, so whatever. 🤷🏽‍♂️ I can't impose on others my severe judgement on what gets others off (in terms of fiction and fictional characters), I can only say that Wednesday suffers enough mentally on a daily basis that I hate adding to that, or seeing it. N/C Wednesday is still precious to me, no matter how tempting it can be to smack her around a bit/knock her off her high horse (I was pleased though, when in canon she got her brow nicked...she hadn't had any reason to attack Bianca before then, aside from her calling her a psychopath (as if not everyone in the school already thought she was)...she was being a narc little asshole during the fencing scene).

As for the rest of it, I really didn't say anywhere that Wednesday shouldn't come up with any cute pet names for Enid, even suggesting that she could be creative enough to make her own compound words like "my little lupinette" (to me, something like that would make her bond with Enid much more tailored to whatever Enid brought out within her while distancing herself from becoming Mommie Dearest enough). Borrowing directly from them just... 💀 AB Wednesday is currently even more formal and uptight than any Wenclair Wends but is slowly learning, and in one upcoming scene she calls Donovan "Jim". My readers will see why (🤣🤣🤣).

Aside from crafting this Satisfying Universe, I had to sit and watch malignant psychopaths destroy the hopes and dreams of my fellow 🏳️‍⚧️ people in Tennessee, Florida, Texas, Missouri, etc. this spring and throughout the summer, so I'm especially peeved when I see anything that could be construed as trans exclusionary in here. I lost the Potter fandom to it in 2020 when JKR came out full TERF, even though we all kind of suspected it before. We never, ever had "Draco Malfoy x AFAB reader" or "Hermione Granger x AMAB reader" labeled fics. We didn't care what you were born with, genital-wise. Fiction is and will forever be an escape, so let's try to keep it that way. 🫠✨

Anyway, thanks for the message. I'm only sad that you feel like you need to hide, or that anyone feels like they need to hide. I understand it though.

[mediaevalmusereads]

The Seven Year Slip. By Ashley Poston. Berkley, 2023.

Rating: 3.5/5 stars

Genre: contemporary romance

Series: N/A

Summary: Sometimes, the worst day of your life happens, and you have to figure out how to live after it.

So Clementine forms a plan to keep her heart safe: work hard, find someone decent to love, and try to remember to chase the moon. The last one is silly and obviously metaphorical, but her aunt always told her that you needed at least one big dream to keep going. And for the last year, that plan has gone off without a hitch. Mostly. The love part is hard because she doesn’t want to get too close to anyone—she isn’t sure her heart can take it.

And then she finds a strange man standing in the kitchen of her late aunt’s apartment. A man with kind eyes and a Southern drawl and a taste for lemon pies. The kind of man that, before it all, she would’ve fallen head-over-heels for. And she might again.

Except, he exists in the past. Seven years ago, to be exact. And she, quite literally, lives seven years in his future.

Her aunt always said the apartment was a pinch in time, a place where moments blended together like watercolors. And Clementine knows that if she lets her heart fall, she’ll be doomed.

After all, love is never a matter of time—but a matter of timing.

***Full review below.***

CONTENT WARNINGS: suicide, mild sexual content

OVERVIEW: I kept hearing about this book, so out of sheer curiosity, I picked it up. I'm not normally a contemporary romance reader, so this was a little outside my wheelhouse, but I was excited to give it a chance. Overall, I think I'm rating this book 3-3.5 stars for reasons of personal taste. While I loved the time-travel element and atmosphere of the apartment, I also felt like a lot of narrative tension was sucked out of the story. Maybe this book was supposed to be fluffy and light, so I'm perhaps being unfair. But I kept seeing moments when the stakes could have been raised, so that drove my subjective experience.

WRITING: Poston's prose is ok. It's definitely not the worst, but it doesn't feel particularly inspired either. Much of what put me off was the millennial humor and pop culture references. I understand this book is written for a particular audience, but the humor was simply not for me and will, I think, age this book poorly.

I also think Poston repeated herself a bit - some of the same ideas expressed in the same manner (for example: the sensation of pop rocks in one's stomach). It wasn't so obnoxious to be jarring, but it was something I noticed.

PLOT: The non-romance plot of this book follows Clementine West, a book publicist who devoted herself to work following the death of her aunt. The aunt has bequeathed a magical apartment to her niece - one that randomly transports its occupant 7 years backwards or forward in time, and Clementine soon finds herself being catapult into the past too meet a young man who lived in the apartment for a summer 7 years ago.

I was a little mixed on the plot for a number of reasons. On the one hand, I really loved the possibilities that came with the time travel. Because occupants were only separated by 7 years, they're was always the possibility of meeting up yet being changed by time. There was so much room to talk about how people change and timing and so much that Poston takes advantage of several times.

I also liked the focus on grief and the relationship between Clementine and her aunt. Even though the aunt is dead, Clementine has enough flashbacks for her to feel like a real and integral part of her life, and the longing that accompanied her time travel into the past - during a time when the aunt was alive - was palpable.

I also think the atmosphere of the apartment was well done. Poston made it seem magical in all the important ways: not for its time travel, but for the way the light hit it, the way it was decorated, the memories it held. It was a more effective way of making the setting feel enchanting than detailing the exact way it launched someone into the past.

On the other hand, I do think Poston could have leaned heavier into making the plot work for her themes. While I appreciated the way friends were used as support systems, there were scenes that I thought could have been less fluffy and more purposeful.

I also didn't quite feel like the stakes were as high as they could have been. This isn't to say that I think there should have been action or life-or-death scenarios, but Poston didn't exactly make me care about Clementine's job or Iwan's success as a chef. This might be because I felt like I was told too much about why they mattered more than shown, and I really wanted to see the effects of workaholism on grief, for example, more than Clementine wanted to just simply advance her career.

CHARACTERS: Clementine, our heroine, is fine as far as romance heroines go. There were things I liked about her, like her relationship with her aunt, her meditations on grief and repetition and adventure, and the way she comes to terms with the realities of change. I think I would have liked her more without the millenial humor, and if the plot had worked harder to really dig into her psyche, she would have felt more dazzling.

Iwan, our hero, is ok but a bit too "safe" to be interesting. This doesn't mean that he needed to be some kind of bad boy; I mostly mean that he doesn't seem to have character flaws that make him feel three dimensional. His love for cooking was admirable, as was his relationship with his grandfather, but he felt a little too perfect and his arc wasn't necessarily one of growth. He was fairly perfect from the get-go, and though he loses some of that in his vision for his career, I don't think it developed as strongly as it could have.

Supporting characters were fine, though I think they distracted from the plot more than served it. As much as I loved the supportive network of friends around both characters, I ultimately think they didn't work hard enough to create subplots of their own that complimented the main romance. Drew and Fiona, for example, were nice to have as emotional support, but they mostly felt like repositories for millenial humor. The same can be said of Miguel and Isa, who would have been fantastic commentaries on chasing passion over accomplishment and formal recognition.

ROMANCE: There were some aspects of this romance that were really interesting. The time travel was perhaps the main attraction, shoving these two people together and holding them apart at moments to create productive frustration and tension. I liked that the time separation meant that both characters were in different stages of life and thus, finding each other in the present was fraught with difficulties.

I do think, however, that more could have been done to put past and present storyline in conversation with one another. While Poston eventually delves into things like how time changes people, it felt like from the get-go, the time travel was more used for a quirky meet cute. Of course, if this romance is meant to be more light and fluffy, there's nothing wrong with that; personally, however, I wanted the time travel to really work harder for our love story, creating scenarios that couldn't necessarily be solved by just getting over oneself or having a frank heart-to-heart.

TL;DR: The Seven Year Slip is a romance with an interesting premise that is somewhat undercut by its millenial humor. Though it wades into the waters of tackling things like grief and pursuing happiness, it ultimately felt too surface level for my taste.

[karanthos-blog]

Lost Legends Stories 5! Monthly Fantasy Stories, for your reading pleasure!

Greetings to you all!

We are back with a new episode of Lost Legend Stories!

This time, the Story circles around Petra, from a race called "Haer". Follow her and embark in a small journey, following her story.

Support us at:

With that out of the way, enjoy this snipped of the full story with the Title: Petra the haeress and the bountiful market.

-------------------------------

The thin stretch of time where summer became fall had always been Petra’s favorite time of year.

The hot breath of the sun became less oppressive, washed away by cool breezes and occasional rains that drew steam up from the bogs in thick clouds of mist.

It was also not so coincidentally the time of year that her colony would move their nests to the winter woods,

returning to burrows that had been established generations ago under towering golden oaks. Beneath their wide, gnarled roots, the Haer would spend the cold months in a state of torpor,

only venturing out in the gravest of emergencies. The time of preparation that preceded this hibernation was ripe with opportunities for adventure, and Petra planned to make the most of it.

It was on such an early autumn morning that Petra pushed herself through the small tunnel leading out of her family’s burrow and out into the dewy meadow that surrounded it.

The ferns that populated the forest floor swayed in the slow wind, tickling her long, furred ears. With a soft squeak of a sneeze,

Petra tucked them against the side of her head, running her paw-like hands over them as she took in the morning with a contented sigh.

“Pe-” the voice was muffled by the dirt beneath her. Petra paused a moment waiting for the loud grunt followed by the wide, dark brown face of her mother popping up through the hole.

“Petra!” her mother gasped. “Don’t go off too far today. Mrs. Fleetfoot saw you at the edge of the wood yesterday. You know how dangerous it is beyond the border.”

“Yes, Mother,” Petra said with a loud sigh.

“Don’t ‘yes mother’ me, or it’ll be me that puts you in a stew.”

“Yes—” Petra stopped herself and decided on a simple nod instead.

Her mother wiggled out from the burrow and pulled a linen pack out from behind her, thrusting it and a pair of shoes into Petra’s hands. “Come back when this is full, don’t linger.”

“I will!” Petra took the pack and slung it over her shoulders as she slipped on the shoes, bounding away as her mother called out further warnings.

The sound of her maternal voice grew distant as Petra sped around the wide trucks of familiar trees, the canopy above speckling the green earth with golden spatters of light.

The spell upon her shoes was fresh and would last until evening, giving her already rabbit-like limbs a swiftness to outmatch any predator. Petra sprinted through the brush,

leaping and bounding over clumps of prickle bush and sliding through hollowed-out logs on slick green moss. The winter woods were so-called because they were known far and wide for their unique foliage. Despite the thick and months-long carpet of snow that would bedeck the forest floor,

the Oaks themselves would remain fully alive, losing neither leaf nor luster, unlike most other trees excepting pines and spruces, of course. It was this magic that kept the Haer safe and warm as they slept in their burrows,

and it was fear of that same magic that kept humans from encroaching upon the forest, their axes not daring to infringe upon its borders for fear of otherworldly repercussions. The truth of Petra’s mother’s trepidations instilled in her curiosity rather than wariness,

a fact that Petra kept close to her heart. Haers were an elusive group, and they liked it that way. Or most did, anyway. Those that did attempt adventure were often talked about in bedtime stories meant to frighten young kits into childhood submission.

But not for Petra. No, Petra had heard outlandish tales of humans and their villages brimming with gardens practically oozing food and simply forgone the conclusion that such temptations ended poorly.

This was the first fall where she was of the age where foraging alone was not explicitly forbidden, and her heart had been fluttering against her ribs all morning in anticipation.

Bees as fat as her fist floated by, their furry bodies bedecked in the last of summer's bountiful pollen. Petra's long feet pushed her higher with each leap forward, until she was bursting through clumps of wildflowers with shouts of gleeful laughter.

Mossy forest floor and wildflower groves gave way to soggy earth as she approached the edge of the winter woods, her nose twitching against the peaty air that now surrounded her.

Petra shrank back into a grove of blackberry bushes, most of which had already been picked clean by the birds of the forest. She popped an overripe one into her mouth as she carefully watched the border where the forest met marsh.

Dragonflies swooped in and out, their soft hum almost too quiet to be heard over the chorus of frogs and toads. Petra’s ears sprang up above her head, twisting and turning to capture every sound; her wide eyes searched the glimmering shadows around her,

searching for friends and neighbors who might snitch. Finding none, she took a tentative step out from the company of the rotting blackberries and out into a clump of grass at the edge of the bog. The night before, Petra had pressed her cheek to the root that shaped her room of the family burrow,

listening to the whispers of her parents as they discussed a village just beyond Briar Bog, the marsh that lined the northern edge of the winter wood, and how humans had been seen fishing there. Her parents had, of course, spoken of the sightings with murmured fears. But, as Petra looked out on the misty path before her, the only emotion lingering in her rapidly rising and falling chest, was excitement.

Petra’s whiskers twitched as she leaned forward, her eyes searching for the next clump of path she could trust amid soaked mud and decaying plant life. Spying a sturdy-looking patch,

she sprang forward confidently, landing about three lengths of her body further into the marsh. Petra glanced back, searching one last time for any well-meaning Haeren spies that would report her mischief back to her mother.

Then with a grin she savored for herself, she turned and began to hop from clump to clump and stone to stone, disappearing from the safe view of the winter wood and traversing into the unknown beyond. The early daylight glittered here, diffused around her like dim starlight by the fog.

Where the forest was still, the swamp was brimming with activity. The steady thump thump thump of her feet only added to the odd orchestra of sound and movement obscured by the moist morning haze.

Amid the buzz of insects and the twittering of birds hidden betwixt long drooping reeds, Petra heard a sound. A sound that struck her almost instantly as out of place. Petra squatted down, ears aloft, waiting for the noise to repeat itself. It came again,

a quick splash followed or preceded by low grunting. With careful, slow movements, Petra crawled forward over a large rock,

keeping her body low among the rushes. The warmth of the sun was beginning to disperse the haze with its warmth, revealing a patch of bog cleared of reeds. Standing there, spear in hand, was a human man.

The heart in Petra’s chest was beating so loudly she almost feared the fellow might hear it, the tips of her ears slung low, tucked beneath her chin as she watched him from the safety of the foliage.

He was bent over at the waist, his eyes scanning the surface of the water as she slowly raised his spear, its pronged tip glinting grey against the sun's rays. With a soft grunt, he thrust the weapon into the water. When he pulled back on the linen rope attached, the spear took with it a fish.

The man let out a proud cry, tossing the glimmering shimmering catch into a basket already brimming. Satisfied, the human turned, attaching his fishing spear to a loop at his back and lifting the basket of fish onto his hip. Petra felt her eyes widen,

and she made the decision in that moment to follow him.

IF you enjoyed that sneak peak, consider reading the full story at the link above! Thank you for reading!

Yours

Kara

[punmster]

Hi! I've decided to exclude some out of slight embarrassment (as i said in the tags, they are really edgy middle-schooler-core) and also i'm not sure they are that relevant to the story lol (oh, and this list would be WAY longer if I did include all of them)

IDKHBTFM - Leave Me Alone (literally the very first song I ever associated with this story, still one of my faves; 7th year)

The Offspring - You're Gonna Go Far, Kid (7th year focused, so might not be clear as to why it's there yet--I imagine it as a conversation between Draco and Voldy)

The Offspring - Half-Truism (6th year, mainly the chorus)

Gang of Youths - Achilles, Come Down (6th year death scene, also b/c gay drama)

Set It Off - Nightmare (yeah this band and this song specifically is one of the edgier ones, but it works for the 6th year death scene lol)

Set It Off - Killer in the Mirror (mirror of erised anyone?)

Set It Off - Skeleton (not particularly related to the plot, it's just a damn good song; way more pop than the others)

Set It off - Hourglass (I was thinking time turner with this one but it's actually really related to the whole time travel fix it/rewriting the story thing--also yes there are a lot of Set It Off songs, and more to come)

ELO - Mr. Blue Sky (just for the one line "Mr. Blue you did it right/now here comes Mr. Night/creeping over, now his hand is on your shoulder" b/c the shadow in erised--i like how this bright song is lumped in w/ all the edgy ones lmao)

Green Day - Boulevard of Broken Dreams (not a song I like as much, but the content is similar to the previous song--the whole shadow thing)

Set it Off - Midnight Thoughts (back to SIO--pretty sure this song is actually about insomnia but hey, I can't resist when there's day/night themes)

Set It Off - Dancing With the Devil (at first, this was b/c of Draco dancing w/ Riddle's corpse in the old version in summer before 3rd but it describes Harry and Draco's relationship better)

Set It Off - Criminal Minds (not one I like the sound of as much as others but that first lyric and a few others fit so hilariously well)

P!ATD - Turn Off the Lights (Fitting for Draco's thoughts, but also the light symbolism w/ the Guiding Star shtick)

5SOS - Teeth (I'd need to spoil 6th/7th year to explain but it still vibes w/o knowing why it's here lol)

IDKHBTFM - Lights Go Down (here for the vibes)

STARSET - Die For You (I feel this one is obvious even w/ only the first few years as context, but it is really 6th/7th year)

STARSET - ECHO (more Draco-Harry relationship in 6th/7th)

Regina Spektor - Two Birds on a Wire (more like two boys on a tower, eh? hehehe)

Set It Off - Catch a Break (b/c draco can't lmao--inspired draco falling on his face and slapping himself in 2nd; very unavoidable tragedies because we will never make a different choice coded)

Set It Off - The Magic 8 (prophecies and all that)

MISSIO - Sing to Me (I think you just gotta listen to this one to understand)

Mother Mother - Problems (I'm honestly not sure about this one?)

Half Alive - Creature (from Harry's pov, about Draco)

Electric Callboy - Supernova (Rage 2 Edition) (this one I found while looking for a song specifically w/ a supernova theme, cuz of that note in chapter 16)

The Score - Born for This (this one, oddly, I feel is more edgy than the SIO songs? So I feel a little cringe about it. However the line "We come from different places but have the same name" and "I believe we can write our story" made me keep it)

Saint Motel - Snake Charmer (kinda obvious--golden snake and all)

Out of curiosity, do you have a playlist for DSMG?

yeah, it's like. 70 songs long lol