#three-thirty is way up there and then there's this one

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Physics Tutor!Nanami

Law of Love: following the stars across the universe to you

Content: final chapter of the pre-relationship arc, fluff and smut, 18+ mdni, not proofread Word Count: 6.1k Guide

Nanami Kento is a man of science. 

Always has been, likely always will be. 

Everything is measured, from his coffee (exactly one and a half tablespoon of coffee grinds and three hundred millilitres of hot water, no sugar, straight off the boil), to the temperature of his shower (thirty-eight degrees) and even to the number of steps it takes to get from his shared apartment to his Monday morning lecture hall (one thousand, six hundred, and seventy eight usually). 

So, it would be no surprise to anyone that he’s counting down the seconds till the clock strikes five on a Saturday afternoon, phone in one hand in case you get lost, or universe forbid, bailed, and coffee in the other.

He should have done this a long time ago, should have invited you here, or invited himself over to your place, anything to get you alone. No, not in a creepy way. He just wants to talk, to get everything out in the open, to fix things. 

After an embarrassing night of drinking more alcohol than he really should have, he resolved to send you a message imploring you to come to the Eden Observatory. Nanami isn’t exactly sure why he chose this place of all places — a girl like you should be taken somewhere fancy, like a five star restaurant, dazzled on an ice rink, or led through a mall and told to choose anything and everything you want. 

Palms sweaty, he wipes them on his slacks. That’s another thing. He hasn’t opted to wear something cooler. Dressed in a plain, clunky sweater and overly formal trousers, he groans inwardly and regrets not having taken Haibara up on his offer to wear some of his hoodies and jeans. 

He can still picture his roommate’s lopsided grin and the enthusiastic thumbs up he gave which only made Nanami furrow his brows, feeling oddly like a child being dropped off at their first day of school. 

With the sun setting, he stands in front of the doors, fiddling with the keys, and waits rather impatiently. He’s booked it for the evening so there won’t be distractions. It’ll just be you and him and all the things left unsaid. 

A smile flutters on his lips. 

You came. 

You emerged from your car, a hot pink mini, and are walking up to him with a sway in your hips that is distracting him from the frown on your glossy lips. Dressed in a denim mini skirt and a thin sweater sloping off one shoulder, he wonders if you’re cold. It might not be full blown winter yet but it’s the kind of weather people usually sigh at. 

“That coffee better be for me because I desperately need it.”

“Is that so?” He hands you the coffee, a caramel frappe so sickeningly sweet he feels a toothache coming from just looking at it. You take it from him with manicured hands and pat his chest in a thank you, eyeing your surroundings. 

Rambling, you inform him, “I woke up at seven today. Seven, Kento! Like, actually seven. Why, you ask? Well, because I wanted to make sure I didn’t oversleep. Which is stupid because our meeting’s at five pm so I’m not really sure where I got the idea that I could somehow sleep through it from. And, like, I didn’t even sleep at all last night.”

“Oh, dear. That’s terrible.” Truthfully, Kento could tell you’re frazzled this afternoon; there are bags under your eyes and there’s a slight quiver in your hands. He’s clearly not the only one nervous. Strangely, that does nothing to soothe that ache in his chest. 

“And like, I really shouldn’t be here, y’know? It’s not smart, even my sister said so. But here I am anyways. Because apparently, I can’t get enough of sexy, blond nerds.”

Kento smiles, feeling content to stand outside, alone with you forever. The sun is peeking through the clouds, shining a warm beam on your face. You’re glowing. 

It’s the kind of scene a scientist gains nothing from seeing; it only highlights the daunting reality that there are mysteries in the world that will never be solved in one’s lifetime and can only be theorised, like a black hole. It’s all consuming, a rare and magnificent sight to behold, but one mustn’t dare get too close for once they cross it, they might never return. 

But your pull is so strong he just can’t help himself. 

“You were totally a pain in the ass last night, y’know?” You mutter, casually checking the chips in your nail polish. You’re just saying whatever comes to mind now. 

He grimaces. He remembers everything and gosh did he wish he didn’t. “I’m sorry for having been a bother.”

“It’s alright. God knows I’ve bothered you more often and far worse.”

Nanami wants to argue. He wants to say you’ve never bothered him, never once irritated him, but there’s nothing he could say to erase all those words he had spoken and wished he could erase. So, instead, he pulls open the door and offers his hand to lead you in. 

Immediately he regrets that. Why would you need his hand to cross through a doorway? Did he not get the memo that you’re living in the twenty-first century? 

Despite the twitch of his fingers, you give him a knowing smile before you grant him some mercy. Your hand is soft. So very soft. It feels light in his, and he worries that if he holds you too tight, he’ll break you like a beaker. Faint memories from last night come back to him, reminding him this isn’t the first time he’s held your hand. And he hopes it won’t be the last. 

“What are we doing here anyways? When you asked me to give you the opportunity to talk, I thought you meant in a cafe, or in your place. In fact, I was kind of hoping it’ll be in your place.”

He leads you through the grand foyer, the shiny marble floors perfectly polished despite the day guests. “I was hoping this would be somewhat like a date.”

“A date?” You screech. “Nanami, you didn’t tell me this was a date!”

“What difference does it make?” It sounds rhetorical, but you know better. He’s pleading, genuinely asking if making his intentions clear from the beginning would have made this outcome different, if you wouldn’t have come, and he would have been left wondering ‘what if’ for the rest of his life. 

Instinctively pulling your hand, you stumble into his chest when he doesn’t budge, doesn’t let go. Face burying between his pecs, you’re practically smothered in his hard body and his clean, musky scent. It’s so easy to forget that Nanami Kento, being a nerd and all, is actually an elite member of the List for a reason.

Your classmate isn’t like all the boys you’re surrounded by in frat parties. He isn’t a boy at all. The strength he carries in every limb and muscle reminds you of all the things he could do to you, of all the things you want him to do to you. 

He doesn’t push you away and you don’t make an effort to leave. Instead, he takes your frappe from your hand, worried that it’s dangerously close to tipping over onto your clothes. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t say it was a date. I didn’t mean to trick you. And well, it doesn’t have to be one if you don’t want it to be. But I’d like for it to be a date. Our first date.”

“But why would you want to date me? Haven’t I been horrible?”

Nanami feels something break inside. He likens it to the feeling one gets when they receive an anomalous result which throws off their entire research. Sighing, he attempts to nudge you so he can see your face but you only bury yourself in his chest further. He waddles you both over inside the double doors on the right with some difficulty, bringing the straw of your drink to your lips when you lift your head. 

“You haven’t been horrible. Not at all. In fact, I fear I’ve been horrible.”

“No! You’ve been great. Brilliant, even. You could never be horrible.”

He shakes his head. “I snapped at you that night. I jumped to conclusion and acted irrationally and emotionally. I’m sorry.”

“No, no, no. I was wrong for lying to you and luring you to the party. I was wrong for teasing you this entire time. It’s so mean and so stupid and I hate myself for it. But I just really liked you. You have the best reactions and I wanted to see them all. And it’s all just so stupid. Ugh, I’m sorry.”

A blush is rising up his cheeks. It’s clear neither of you are going to relent. Maybe you’re both to blame for the unnecessary back and forth, for this farce that eluded you in some cruel twist of fate. Maybe it’s neither of you. Maybe none of it matters. Not anymore. Not when you’re here, not when you came and you’re looking up at him like he’s…something. 

That trusting, longing expression on your face threatens to sweep his legs out from under him. He feels like he’s suspended in air, free diving with the ground nowhere in sight, and judging by the way his fingers twitch, seeking to touch your softness, he suspects he’s been falling for eternity.

“Don’t apologise,” he finds the courage to breathe out, “Not anymore. Let’s just enjoy what I’ve got planned.”

You beam, eyes darting to what’s behind him, the conversation already forgotten. Marvelling at the hall you didn’t even realise you entered, you pull away from him and spin around, trying to catch sight of everything. 

He’s led you to the planetarium. Having spent many hours doing demonstrations and lectures here to tourists, students on school trips, and for birthday parties, it was the only place he could think of that might impress you. And though he was worried you’d find this lacking compared to your other potential experiences, those fears vanish the moment your eyes fall on his again and a huge smile is pulling at your lips. 

“Ken! This place is beautiful.”

Nanami gulps. 

You just called him by his first name. No, by a nickname. Like before. Like how you used to. And he feels his knees wobble a little. Not even his family calls him by a nickname, and admittedly, he’s never been fond of people taking creative initiative on his name but he likes it when it comes from your lips. He’d consider changing his name to ‘Ken’ permanently if it means you’ll call him that forever. 

"Can you believe I've never been here before? That's actually like so crazy."

Space is projected above both of your heads, countless stars twinkling in the abyss, forming constellations and glittering around planets and galaxies. Ever so slowly, the picture moves, disappearing to the right and allowing more of the universe to be observed. 

He’s so thankful he pleaded his case to his manager, the elderly man who owns the place, arguing that it’s for a special cause, to cheer up a friend, that it would be informative for their tutoring session. Mr. Tanaka insisted that it’d be too costly to shut down the observatory for even just an evening and for something so trivial.

However, when Nanami had said, ‘she’d really appreciate it’, Mr. Tanaka’s entire demeanour had shifted from grouchy old man, to giggling gossip. 

“Oh, well why didn’t you say it was for your lady, Kento? Of course, you can lock up and bring her over. Show her around, really make her day. I’ll let you in on a little secret, old boy. That’s exactly how I wooed my wife. Oh, she was so overjoyed she could barely stop gasping. How glad am I that a kid as serious as you actually has an appetite!” Mr. Tanaka laughed heartily, and laughed even harder when Kento blushed.

Having thanked him profusely, Kento was just about to leave before Mr. Tanaka added, a wistful tone in his gravelly voice as he caressed a picture on his desk, “You have fun, alright, Kento? You enjoy every second of it. Don’t get lost in what the universe has to offer you when everything you could ever want is within arm’s reach already.”

Feeling somewhat unnerved by the sudden seriousness in the old man’s face, he could do nothing but listen, absorbing every drop of wisdom as if he’s being shown the key to the beyond of the conceivable universe. 

And then, Mr. Tanaka smiled so brightly, the student almost missed the agony pulling his lips down. 

“Because that’s the beauty of the stars, Kento. They twinkle for love.”

Seeing those very stars reflected in your huge, wondrous eyes and the way his heart stutters, Kento feels inclined to listen to the rambling, grumpy senior more often.

Sitting down onto the centre velvet seats, the coffee stands in the cupholder on the armchair separating the both of you. The seat’s are plenty spacious and they even recline. You both make yourself comfortable, looking up at the dancing stars. 

“Oh, look! That’s Orion. I like him best because he’s fashionable,” you announce,  pointing at the ceiling. 

“Fashionable?”

Explaining like it’s obvious, you fix him a stare., “Because he has a belt, Ken.”

And who is he to argue with you?

Nanami had learnt that, though you’d much prefer to gain your information from him than anywhere else, there are some things he simply cannot change your mind on. One such example would be the great pancake versus waffle debate that had taken up almost forty-five minutes of one of your tutoring sessions. 

You sincerely, with every ounce of your being, believed that waffles are better than pancakes. You insisted, pleaded, urged him to see your cause, but he wasn’t having any of it. 

“That has no relevance to thermodynamics, y/n,” he had said with a deadpan tone. “And in any case, they are made of the same thing so I don’t understand what difference texture makes.”

“Can’t we just take a break from all the physics talk? I wanna chat and gossip.”

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “This is hardly the appropriate setting.”

“So,” you elongated, “take me on a date and we can argue about it.”

Nanami didn’t understand why one would spend a date arguing something as trivial as waffles versus pancakes when they were both the same damn thing but he couldn’t bear to encourage you. Instead, he clasped his hand and gave you a look he hoped would convey his thoughts. 

You only grinned at him toothily.

He gulped, then cleared his throat as he took his glasses off to wipe some invisible dirt. Opening the textbook at the correct page and slamming one thick half of it onto the table with more force that he had intended, he could only mutter, “I like waffles better too.”

“Aha!” You celebrated like a beautiful madwoman. 

Watching you clap and boo at planets and galaxies with seemingly no rhyme or reason, his opinion of you doesn’t change. You are just as crazy as ever. Whether that was yesterday, a month ago, or two years before. You still shine brighter than any celestial body. And maybe you’ll continue to do so in the years that follow. He hopes he gets to see for himself. 

Time passes as you two take turns highlighting asterisms and comets, discussing their history, their discovery and the next time they’ll pass again. Though he’s clearly the more knowledgeable of you two, you could give him a run for his money. 

“Cassiopeia, easily distinguishable because of her signature ‘W’ shape, was a vain queen from Greek mythology, punished by the gods for her arrogance. Her stars sparkle as though still boasting her beauty,” Nanami rattles off, almost on autopilot, just like he had been trained. 

“But because of the Earth’s rotation, her ‘W’ sometimes flips into an ‘M’, right? It’s almost as if the stars themselves are correcting her vanity.”

“That’s right.”

You’re more talkative than last night and he hypothesises it must be because you’re quiet when you drink. He was so nervous and out of place at the party he hadn’t even noticed just how much he resents not hearing your voice. Until now when he feels at bliss hearing your smooth cadence lull him to comfort.

Nanami prides himself in being a man of restraint. For many years, despite the girls who have twirled their hairs or pressed their arms next to his, his resolve to focus solely on academia had never wavered. Not once. His eyes never wandered up the legs of a woman or down their low tops, and he had never fantasised about much more than a cordial, research-based relationship with anyone. 

However, in this very moment, encased in the darkness of the planetarium, his eyes are sliding over to your crossed legs, bare and smooth, the fats of your thighs pressing against each other. Occasionally, they also venture upwards where your breasts are squished together on top of your crossed arms, and up that slender neck, settling on your glossy lips.

He gulps.

Shuffling in his seat, he’s trying to ignore the sudden tightening in his trousers. But it’s so very difficult. Especially when your perfume invades his senses and your plump lips wrap around the straw of your drink and you make a slurping sound that sends shivers down his spine. 

“W-whenever you’re ready, we can head to dinner,” he offers, attempting to distract himself with the next stage of his plans. “There’s a great place ran by a family friend who’ll make whatever you want, on and off menu. He’s truly a terrific chef and an even better man. 

“Dinner sounds great and all. But Kento,” you begin with a hum, sparkling gaze shifting to him, “is there a reason you’re gripping the armrest like it owes you money?”

You’re teasing him again, he can tell. He’s grown painfully familiar with that saccharine tone your voice takes when you’ve got him in the palm of your hand. 

The atmosphere has changed. The light and joyful air has evaporated and neither of you are laughing over how wrong those Ancient Greek philosophers were anymore. Instead you’re adding fuel to a fire he’s been trying to douse, lest he burns you with his impure thoughts. 

Clearing his throat, he attempts to deny your accusations. “I’m not.”

“Oh, so now you’re lying to me with the stars as our witness, Ken? And what’s next? You’ll lie to me when I ask why you seem to have a situation right…over….here?”

Nanami is powerless against the gravity of your long nails scraping along his tensing thighs. It’s merciless and climbing higher and higher until he feels a rumble in his chest, and he finds himself gripping your wrist with his shaky hand and he’s hauling you over. 

In a sudden turn of events, you find yourself straddling him, hands clutching his broad shoulders for purchase, whilst his own grab your waist. Nanami has no idea what came over him. Perhaps it was that animalistic urge that humans have yet to evolve past taking control for a second. Just as likely, it was the long buried desire to put you in your place. 

“You tease too much,” he whispers, taking your hands, fingers skimming underneath the sleeves of your sweater to tickle the inside of your wrist, and lifting them to the metal frame of his glasses. 

You pull it off and as you watch it dangle in your fingers, the glass reflecting the universe, he surprises you with his lips engulfing yours.

He kisses you, at first, like you’re fragile, like this moment is precarious and one wrong move could set it all off. But once the taste of you settles on his tongue, his resolve snaps altogether and he’s deepening it like he’s dreamed of doing for far longer than he’d care to admit.

Gasping, you allow him inside your mouth, tongues clashing and winding together. It’s a little messy, a little clumsy, but it’s making you hot all over. It’s the way he’s moving with no method, no rhythm, and instead, allowing himself to be guided purely by a desire to taste, to explore, and to consume you. 

“Ken,” you moan into his mouth. 

Nanami groans, digging his fingers into your waist, a pinkie tucking itself under the hem of your sweater, amazed by the softness he finds there. “You taste so sweet.”

You part from him to peck at his jaw, the stubble there eliciting a low whimper from you. With a giggle, you say, “That’s probably the coffee you got me.”

“Whatever it is, it’s delicious and I want more of it,” he growls. It’s a kind of noise he had never made before, didn’t even realise he was capable of making. A hand crawls up your back, embedding itself in your hair before it pulls your head back to crash against his lips again. 

Your hips are grinding together and the hardness there is meeting your moistening panties perfectly. You hope you don���t make a mess on him but that worry is thrown far in the back of your mind when he bites into your bottom lip. Emboldened by his firm, wandering hands, you grab that cold thing beside you and make enough space to take a sip. 

Kento is confused, dazed, but he can barely see without his glasses, and so, in the blur of it all he fails to see you’ve picked up your frappe until you kiss him again and something creamy and sugary tingles his tastebuds. His eyes roll back. Your tongues are mixing it up, really rubbing it in, and he sucks all that you’re willing to give him in desperate gulps. 

Feeling your hard nipples poke him through your sweater and his, he bucks his hips up, nudging your clit and you both moan. 

“S-stop,” he breathes out. “W-we can’t.” 

Blinking furiously, you nod, pushing off but his arms cage you in, keeping you in his lap. ”Ken?”

“I’m sorry. I promise I want to. Really. But, I d-don’t…”

Picking up his forgotten glasses and sliding it back into place, you then cradle his face. His eyes meet yours clearly and he smiles sheepishly, feeling more vulnerable with it on. His lips are shiny with both the coffee and your liquid, you swipe with your thumb. “You don’t what?

“I don’t… I mean, I’ve never…”

“You’ve never been with a girl?”

Nanami nods, thoroughly embarrassed. There’s no way you’ll like him now. He’s ruined the mood. He came so close to having it all but he just had to go and destroy everything by revealing he is the stereotypical nerd and you’re way too good for him. He feels an urge to run, to hide and pretend none of this ever happened, that he hadn’t gotten too big for his boots and thought he could conquer a huge mountain and get to the peak with you. 

You must be disgusted to have been touched by a loser like him. Maybe you already knew from the clumsy way he kisses or the shaking of his hands, and the way he seeks your gaze but cowers when you meet his.

Nanami Kento is a man of science and he should have stayed that way, should have never dared venture further than a man like him was ever meant to. 

But when you smile at him, staring up through those long, fluttering lashes, he decides right there and then that he’s more than willing to submit to a higher power. For there is no probable way you were made by chance like he or anyone else was—you must have been sculpted by God himself, and sent down to tempt his honour, to humble his arrogance, and crumble the very foundations of his character. 

And how gladly he’d let you. 

“Kenny, you silly man. I don’t care about things like that. In fact,” you whisper conspiratorially and lean in close, nibbling on his ear, “I’m getting really wet from knowing that I’m going to be your first.”

He dies. 

Right there and then, Nanami dies. 

He feels his soul, of which he only discovered a second before, leave his body and ascend high into the celestial clouds, mingling with those stars that seem to twinkle harder as if amused by the dumbstruck look on his face. 

Like something had completely changed in his DNA make up, he takes you by surprise and presses his palm against your soaked gusset. You jolt. 

“You’re really wet.” He thumbs at that little bulge, watching the way your jaw drops. Piercing his body, your moans echo through his ribs, pounding against his heart and filling his veins with something far too addictive. “Does knowing that you’re the first girl I’ve ever kissed, ever wanted to taste here, and wanted to know how she feels inside turn you on?”

There’s no hint of playfulness in your voice any longer when you whimper a 'yeah, Ken', hips stuttering against the pressure of his palm cupping your heat in its entirety. He can’t fathom how someone like you could find someone like him attractive, and to this extent, but he doesn’t care. He doesn’t care enough to map out all possibilities and make hypotheses — he doesn’t want reason and logic and practicality. 

Not now. 

No, all Nanami wants is to know you, inside and out. So, he pulls your panties to the side, hands still shaking a little, and he groans at the disastrous sensation of your drenched core leaking onto his skin. There’s no technique to his touch; he’s just feeling you. There are folds and bumps he’s theoretically aware of but to touch in person is insanity. 

Your face is making all sorts of expressions: brows furrow when he follows the seam of your lips, nose twitches when his finger teases at your quivering entrance, and your mouth parts when he bumps against your clit. 

“Tell me how you like it,” he pleads. “Tell me how to make you feel good.”

‘Pitiful loser’ must be written all over his face because you smile. You smile and thrust your breasts in his face just as your fingers wrap around his and you guide him. Urging two fingers inside, you allow him to sink in slowly, observing using his tactile receptors the pulsing heat of your walls, the squishiness, the texture, and the way he’s gliding inside. 

“Just touch me, Ken. Feel me. Get familiar because you’re going to make this your second home, okay?” 

“Okay.”

He thrusts those fingers in, seeking that spot that’s supposed to make women gasp and writhe. The sounds coming from you are obscene and it’s making him delirious. You’re growing impossibly wetter, hips stuttering, grinding on his palm, and he’s watching everything. 

Something about how hard he’s staring must make you uncomfortable because you laugh and slide your thumbs under his glasses, holding his lids close. 

“Don’t stare so hard, Kenny, you look like you’re trying to work out an equation.”

“Sorry,” he mumbles. And then you take off his glasses again, baring his face to this otherworldly dream, but when he opens his eyes, what he sees threatens to collapse his own world beneath him. You’re wearing his glasses, or at least he thinks so; his vision is blurry. How he hates his visual impairment more than he ever has before. 

Pressing a kiss on his forehead just as you moan against his skin when he hits a good spot inside you, you shakily ask, “H-how do I look?”

“Beautiful,” he breathes out. 

You laugh again and he throbs inside his trousers. Then, his vision is being obscured all together by your sweater — you’ve encased his head within and his face lies between your lovely breasts. 

Nanami’s heart stops. 

He swears it does. 

“Play with them a little, won’t you, Kenny? I like my tits teased before I cum.”

He doesn’t know which part of what you just said is that final stake in his heart but he does as you say. He licks and sucks and nibbles, listening out for your moans and feeling for which makes you clench harder on his fingers. Nimble hand not slacking for a second, he rubs your clit with his thumb and prods that soft spot you seem to really like. 

Never understanding men’s obsession with breasts, Kento is more than aware of the irony of the situation now that he’s moaning around your nipple, rolling it on his tongue. There have been so many Tuesday evenings spent watching these very same breasts press against the desk as you complain about all the worksheets he had prepared for you. So many walks along campus to get to his next class spent grumbling about how you really should wear a bra more often if you’re planning to jump around like that in front of those jocks. 

But now, he has those very same breasts surrounding his face, threatening to suffocate him, and he thanks the heavens you didn’t wear a bra today. 

“Oh, Ken, fuck!”

“Gosh, a-are you orgasming?” His words are muffled around your nipple and the vibrations seem to fuel you. 

You giggle breathlessly, “It’s ‘cumming’, Ken. Can you -ha- say it for me?”

“Are you c-cumming?”

Through some sort of miracle, you eventually do cum on his fingers, and he hurriedly untangles himself from your sweater to observe the way your face crumples up in bliss, to see the way you flood his hand with your intoxicating cream, and how you’re spasming in his lap. 

It’s all through the fog of his poor vision but the awareness that you’re cumming because of him, in his arms, wearing his glasses and fogging it up with your heady breaths pushes him over the edge just as your hand brushes against the bulge of his trousers. 

“Oh, ngh! I’m s-sorry! Gosh! I'm so sorry.”

The bliss runs deep, filling his head with the scent of you, and for a second, through the haze, he swears his vision clears and you're magnificent face comes to him like a message from something divine. He might just cease being a man of science at this rate.

Panting, you slump against each other. The stars are still dancing above but neither of you pay attention. You’re simply taking deep breaths, trying to reorient yourself, and enjoy the warmth the other is radiating. 

“For your first time fingering a girl, you were pretty good. Which I’m not surprised by — you’ve always been a quick learner, isn’t that right, Kento?”

“P-please don’t tease me.”

With his glasses sliding off your nose bridge, you kiss his lips in apology before you slot the frame back onto his face. He thanks you with an awkward pat of your pussy before he brings his fingers to his face. 

“Isn’t it incredible how our body produces natural lubrication?”

Rolling your eyes you whisper against his stubbly jaw, “Don’t get all sciencey on me now, baby. We still have to talk about the fact that you came in your pants and I hadn’t even touched you.”

Nanami blushes. Hard. He’s humiliated himself in front of you once again. For a second there, he had genuinely believed his inexperience wouldn’t make a difference, that he’s not a teenager and he’ll pull through as a man by instinct alone if need be. How wrong he was. 

“Hey, now. Don’t start thinking too hard. I wasn’t complaining. I actually thought it was really hot.”

Still eyeing the shiny string that forms between his fingers from your essence, he clears his throat and concedes, “If you say so.”

Silence passes by for a beat or two, and all Nanami can think about is how uncomfortable he feels with his cum drying in his boxers and he realises you must feel the same way. Just as he’s about to voice these concerns out, you meet his eye with a strange kind of twinkle. 

“Wanna taste it?”

Before he can even ask what you could possibly mean, you’re already guiding his fingers back to your core and spreading your wetness all over his hand once more. Then, that wetness is being spread along his lips and he doesn’t disobey when he sucks them into his mouth. 

The taste is strange. Not bad, but new and odd. It’s mostly tasteless but it is a little tangy, and sweet. And he is obsessed. 

“How do I taste, Kenny?”

Nanami Kento is a man of science. 

He isn’t a poet. He doesn’t mince his words, doesn’t use flowery language or muses about nature and the fragility of humanity. No, he says it like it is. The world exists in black and white, there are no greys, no rose tinted glasses hiding the truth from him. He is a man of fact and truth. No more, no less.

But with the exhilarating, inebriating, and electrifying taste of you flooding his tongue, he realises, every man is born a poet, and the world silences that visionary within. However, there comes a moment in every man's life where that poet is awakened and they see the world not as it is, but rather as it should be. They simply need a muse. 

“Like a star,” Nanami rasps, completely and utterly weakened, defeated, and vanquished. “More. I w-want more.”

You chortle. “No, Ken. Not here. Some other time, okay? ‘Cause I’m actually really hungry now. But you’ve got a bit of a situation in your pants and you can’t easily hide it so maybe we should go over to your place and you can cook me up something instead?”

Liking the idea very much, he kisses you and lifts you up so you can both stand on your own two feet. The drying cum is proving to be a pain but it doesn’t bother him. Nothing does in this moment. Not the fact that he’ll have to sneak into the security office and get the CCTV footage deleted, or preferably sent to his phone and then deleted from the main system, not the thought of all the work he has yet to do in preparation for all his classes next week, and not even the knowledge that he’ll have to kick Haibara out for the night. 

“Does this mean you and I are… well…” He trails off, unsure how to phrase it. 

Giggling, you go on your tiptoes and peck his lips. “Yes, Ken. We’re dating. We’re exclusive. I’m your girlfriend and you’re my boyfriend. So that means I get to flirt with you all the time and you can’t pretend you don’t like it anymore.”

“That sounds like a fair deal. Will you come back to class? Let me tutor you again?”

“Wasn’t me coming here to begin with not answer enough, Ken? Of course, I’m coming back. Especially now that it means we can have secret sex during our tutoring sessions. Oh! Can we fuck in the library? I’ve always wanted to do that. And then you can tell me off for being too loud. Can we? I also really want to have sex in your car. Mine is a little too small but yours will work just fine. Oh! And maybe you can let me touch you in the lectures? We can sit at the back where no one can see us! You have to meet my sister. And my friends. And the rest of my family. Then I'll meet yours. Eek! I'm so excited. We'll go on dates every day, won't we? Oh, wouldn't that be so fun, Ken?”

Nanami gulps. 

Stepping away from the world of science and into a world of you seems much more daunting now than ever. Maybe he’s bitten off more than he can chew. Maybe he’s not cut out for a life outside of academia. Maybe he won’t be able to keep up with your appetite. Maybe you'll drain him dry and leave him a husk of himself, which doesn't sound so bad if he's being completely honest.

Everything you said leaves him a little lightheaded at the thought and he can't fathom how he could possibly meet every one of your expectations.

But... he’s always been a fan of the trial-and-error method. 

So, he supposes he’s just going to have to work it out like he always does. Because as you grin up at him, sweat making your skin slightly shiny, he can’t think of anything worse than disappointing you. 

Smiling, he brushes a stray strand away from your cheek and lays a lithe kiss on your nose.

“Whatever you say, my little star.”

[traveler-at-heart]

Sister, wife?

Summary: The team mistakes you for Natasha's sister when you first meet.

Request by @lynattyx

Loki again.

Thor seemed more annoyed than anyone else, but that was only logical. He had spent centuries putting up with his brother.

“Hey, don’t sweat it. Siblings can be a pain” Natasha tried to comfort him, while he looked ready to release a storm over Loki outsmarting him and escaping.

“Speaking from experience, Red?” Stark asked with a curious stare.

“Got a sister” Natasha shrugged her shoulders, looking out the window of the Quinjet as if she hadn’t said anything interesting.

“Really? What’s her name?” Steve said, intrigued.

“I won’t tell you, because if I say it three times you’ll summon her. That’s a reference from…”

“Yeah, I got it” Steve nodded. “I didn’t really like that Beetlejuice”

“That’s because you hate fun” Tony said, stepping forward. “Alright, we have a signal. Anyone up for a cigar? Loki’s close to Cuba”

—

“Lay low. That’s pretty much all you can do now” Maria said with a somber tone over the comms.

Loki had gone a little too far this time, almost getting half of Havana blown up.

Needless to say, the US wasn’t happy with the diplomatic mess the Avengers had created. Maybe that was Loki’s plan all along; make it impossible for them to go after him with the American government on their backs.

Well, he got what he wished for.

“I don’t suppose we can go to the Compound, then” Tony mumbled. “Barton, Red? Any ideas?”

“Coordinates are set. We’ll be there in a few hours. Try to get some sleep. All of you”

No one was in the mood to ask questions. If Natasha said it was a safe place, then they’d take her word for it and be done with the matter.

“You sure about this?” Clint said, looking at her from the copilot seat.

“Yeah. She’ll just give me a hard time for not telling her in advance. You know how she likes to have everything extra clean when there are guests”

“How did you manage to score such a gal?” he joked and Natasha glared at him.

“Hey, I’m a catch. My mac and cheese is delicious”

“Whatever you say, Tasha”

—

The Quinjet landed, and the only way you could tell was by the tree branches moving with a sudden gust of wind.

“Hey” Natasha said with a coy smile, going up the steps as the rest of the team got off the jet, looking around curiously.

“Welcome home” you pulled her into a hug. “Should have told me they were coming, and I could have cleaned up a bit”

“I missed you too” she joked against your ear, and as she was about to lean and kiss you, Tony interrupted the moment.

“Hey, Romanoff and Romanoff”

“You must be Tony. I’ve heard a lot about you”

“Have you? Because Natasha here didn’t tell us much about you”

“She was probably worried about you running your mouth” you joked, making him smirk.

“You have heard about me”

As Steve walked in, Natasha waited for Clint to show him something she wanted to fix in the garage.

The house was big and in the middle of a little wooded area.

“You’re gonna have to share rooms. And someone will sleep on the couch” you warned them.

“Not it” Tony said, as you pulled out a pillow and a blanket from the closet.

“I’ll take the couch” Steve offered, which of course he did. “Thank you…”

“Y/N” you nodded, waiting for Tony to follow you.

“Barton? Thor?” he looked around.

“Oh, Clint’s probably scolding Natasha because she didn’t fix the ceiling like he told her to” you laughed. “Thor flew away like thirty seconds after landing. And burned part of my lawn in the process”

“So sorry about that. It’s quite the thing to hang out with these brutes. So, uh, what do you do?”

“I’m a Psychiatrist” you answered, opening the door to the guest room.

“Get to see Natasha a lot?”

“Not as much as I’d like”

“Come by the Compound anytime you like. I’ll send you a pass or shall I just say your name three times?”

“What?” you tilted your head in confusion.

“Nothing. Thanks for letting us crash” he rubbed his neck.

“Sure. Get some rest”

You ran into Clint as he went upstairs, knowing his way around the house.

“She’s outside”

“Is she… is she ok?” you said, sighing. It was one thing to see it in the news, and another one to know she was out there risking her life against literal Gods and aliens.

“Just tired” he assured you. “Seeing you will help. Have a good night”

“You too. Sorry to say you’re sharing a room with Tony”

“Ah, jeez” he groaned, making you laugh.

Steve was lying in the couch, restless. He waved at you shyly as you walked out, knowing Natasha was waiting in the porch.

Honestly? They were a nice bunch.

“Hey” you said, stepping out.

“Hi, detka”

“You ok?” you said, leaning your chin against her shoulder, with your arms around her waist.

“Just tired”

“Funny, that’s exactly what Clint said”

Natasha chuckled at that, squeezing your hands.

“He knows me”

“I know you better”

“Do you, now?” she turned around, quirking up an eyebrow and smiling at you. “So, what do you think I want right now?”

“Cuddles with your wife and then tomorrow morning I think you’ll be in the mood for blueberry pancakes and hot cocoa”

“Damn, you do know me well” she laughed, kissing your temple. “Come on, let’s go to bed”

—

You were up next morning, and unsurprisingly, Steve had already been out and running a good ten miles.

“The rest?” he said after greeting you.

“Clint got up early to fix what Natasha broke trying to fix the other thing that broke, God bless his soul. Tony’s asleep and so is Nat”

“Really? Even Romanoff? She’s up at break of dawn”

“Nah, not when she’s home. Now clean yourself up, breakfast is almost done”

“Yes, Ma’am”

Natasha was the first one down, as your room had a private bathroom. By the sounds from upstairs, you suspected the boys were arguing over who go to use the other restroom first.

“Hear that sound? Children. Ready for all that?” Natasha said.

“Yeah, but ours will be cute. And we’ll make Clint build another bathroom” you said, getting a pancake out of the pan.

“You’re so smart, that’s why I love you”

“Only that?” you said, laughing as you felt her hands go around your waist.

“Among other things”

You turned around to protest, but her lips stopped you from saying anything.

“I did miss this” she said, pulling you closer to deepen the kiss. You moaned against her mouth, forgetting there were more people in the house until you heard Tony slam the door to the bathroom. Natasha went to get some coffee, and you wished she’d kept kissing you.

But the teasing would be endless if they caught you in the middle of it.

“Bathroom's all yours, Cap! Morning, Romanoffs”

“Morning, Tony” you said. “Help yourself to some pancakes and coffee”

“Delicious, thank you”

Steve came down a few minutes later, at the same time Clint walked in, announcing that he had fixed the thing.

“You’re a hero” you said, grateful. “Don’t worry, darling, you’ll get it right next time” you added as Natasha pouted.

“Mean”

“It comes with the territory, doesn’t it?” Tony said. “Including all the hair pulling and slapping and fighting for bras”

“Ah, what?” you said, confused.

“Hey, don’t speak to my wife that way, asshole” Natasha slapped the back of his head, making him choke on his coffee.

“Did you just say wife?” he turned to look between the two of you.

“Yes, Y/N is my wife. Who did you think she was?”

“The maid?” you joked.

“The sister!” Tony looked at Steve for backup.

“Well, to be fair… yeah”

“My sister’s name is Yelena” Natasha said, massaging her temples. “Y/N and I have been married for almost two years now. And I didn’t want you to know because you’ll be insufferable about it”

“Babe, they’ve been good so far” you chuckled, squeezing her hand.

“We can behave, honey boo” Tony said.

“Ok, yeah. I get it now” you rolled your eyes.

“Either way, you’re coming to our party” Tony said, poruing himself more coffee.

“When is it?”

“Whenever we get our hands on that Asgardian bastard”

“Language” you said at the same time as Steve.

“This is gonna be fun” Tony laughed, looking at you over his cup of coffee. “Welcome to the family, Mrs. Romanoff”

[kamitv]

Secretly down bad!Naoya who walks around acting like he's a part of the whole "I hate my gf" trend when in reality, you drive him crazy in ways he couldn't possibly begin to explain or understand.

Secretly down bad!Naoya who gets hard whenever you yell at him. Something about that aggravation in your tone, the way you glare at him, and the overall frustration that takes over your body makes his cock twitch without second thought.

Secretly down bad!Naoya who can't handle arguments with you for that exact reason. Most of his past "lovers", if you can even call them that, would've left him after the first argument. But you? Oh, your tongues ten times sharper than his could ever be. He's tried insulting you in every way possible but somehow you always make him eat his works.

Secretly down bad!Naoya who's unintentionally become a gentleman around you. Following things like the "side-walk rule", referring to you as "ma'am", and doing things like holding the door open for you. All very simple things but all actions he's never done for anyone else. Ever.

Secretly down bad!Naoya who learned so much about himself ever since he got with you. You've suggested some wild things in the bedroom and although his initial response is usually no, he somehow ends up doing exactly as you've requested.

Secretly down bad!Naoya one time scowled at the mere idea of bondage, especially when you said he'd be the one restricted. And yet, there he was on that fated night with his hands tied behind his back as he watched you play with yourself right in front of him. He was so frustrated that night that he ended up cumming without you even touching him.

Secretly down bad!Naoya who still has a smart mouth, as expected, but he now only gets smart with you to provoke a reaction out of you. Sometimes you'll land a playful smack on his arm and all he can do is smile and ask you to do that again.

Which is roughly what opened his eyes to the fact that he quite enjoys a bit of pain from you. Choking him while you ride him to the point of throated grunts 'n groans catching at his throat? Telling him about himself in more ways than one and how he's such a shitty person?? Well, shit, he can't quite get enough.

Secretly down bad!Naoya who felt a shiver run down his spine when you once blocked him for something rather trivial. What really topped it all off was when you told him that the only thing that'd make you unblock him was if he sent an apology video, with tears.

And not just any kinda apology video either, no, of course not. The woman he's found himself with is far more demanding than that. Instead, you told him to send you a pathetic video of him getting off to you, still with tears, and a genuine apology.

Secretly down bad!Naoya who rolled his eyes at that rediculous request of yours. Never in a million years would he send some woman (the love of his life, btw--I know, surprising) a video of him not only jerking off, but also apologizing over something stupid he did? No way. Over his dead body-

Secretly down bad!Naoya who gives in after a total of three hours and sends you a lengthy video of his shaky hands wrapped around his cock as he pants out your name, whispering how sorry he is in a tone so unbelievably embarrassed that you can hardly believe it's him at first.

And if that wasn't enough, it's even more surprising to you how Secretly down bad!Naoya also has a pair of your panties pressed up to his nose and is ranting about how agonizing it's been not being able to text or call you for the past few hours.

Secretly down bad!Naoya who, at the end of the video, utters a bratty complaint about how much you get on his nerves. Which is so hilarious considering the mess he's made of himself, on video, all for you. And on top of this complaint of his? Seconds after, he's whining a plea for you to unblock him so he can get your attention again, even if said attention consists of you cursing him out again.

Secretly down bad!Naoya who gets unblocked about thirty minutes after he sent those videos of his and starts smiling to himself like an idiot. Somehow in that insane mind of his, he's managed to convince himself that he won whatever conflict was just between the two of you.

Even though he had to send you multiple videos of him jerking off and making an overall fool of himself...

Secretly down bad!Naoya who's not even 'secretly down bad', you're actually well aware of how pathetic your boyfriend is for you. He can't explain it too well but, you've always had him wrapped around your pretty lil' finger like no other.

[rafedarling]

Hai rafedarling,

I had an idea of reader visiting the set of Outer Banks with her son/daughter toddler. And the cast members are surprised who she is. Drew is mostly surprised she is there because of reader doesn't like crowds. And the reason she is out of the spotlight and doesn't go to premieres and that sort of things.

hii anon!! this one-shot is in another universe where reader and drew first born is a daughter.

𝐚 𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞

pairing: dad!drew starkey x mom!reader

summary: drew has always respected your choice to stay private, away from the spotlight, even as his career flourished. but when he asks if you’d bring your three-year-old daughter, noelle, to visit him on the outer banks set, you decide to step out of your comfort zone for him. the moment you and noe arrive, drew’s world lights up, and his castmates are both surprised and excited to finally meet the woman he adores and the daughter he never stops talking about.

warning(s): extreme fluff, drew being the best dad, noelle being an adorable ball of shyness, mentions of social anxiety, secondhand embarrassment, and an overwhelmingly sweet family moment.

au: like, reblog and feedback are much appreciated. discussion can be send through my ask box, please feel free to send in anything. ⭐️ taglist | tagging: @rubixgsworld @rafeyslamb @bisexualcvnt @tracymbcm @maybankslover @anamiad00msday @stuffyownswrld @httpsdrewstarkey @mileyraes @enjoymyloves @akobx @noobmazter69 @victwrvale @xoxohoneymoongirl @xoxosblogsblog @wearemadeofstardust0 @saviorcomplexrry @percysley @littlelamy @winniemoe @emberaurora @watercolorskyy @kravitzwhore

You adjusted the tiny sneakers on Noelle’s feet, making sure they were secure before glancing up at your daughter’s bright eyes. She sat on the bed, small hands gripping the fabric of her leggings, excitement practically vibrating off her little frame.

“Are you ready to meet Dada, Noe?”

You asked with a warm smile.

“Yes, Mama! I am so weady,”

She chirped, her innocent voice sounding like pure sunshine

Your heart swelled. Noelle had always been a daddy’s girl, even if she didn’t get to see Drew as often as she wanted when he was on set. He video-called every night, sending her voice messages, silly selfies, and sometimes even short bedtime stories when he couldn’t tuck her in himself.

But today was special.

Today, for the first time ever, you were taking her to visit Drew on the Outer Banks set.

You hesitated when he first asked. Not because you didn’t want to go you missed him just as much as Noe did but because you weren’t used to being in places filled with cameras, fans, or a sea of people who recognized Drew on sight. You had chosen privacy long ago, staying in the shadows while supporting him from afar. Even now, almost no one knew who you were beyond your name, and you preferred it that way.

But this was for Drew. And Noelle. And honestly… you missed him too much to let your own nerves get in the way.

“Alright,” you said, holding out your hand for Noelle to take.

“We are ready.”

She eagerly grabbed onto you, her tiny fingers curling around yours as the two of you made your way to the car. The drive wasn’t too long, only about thirty minutes, considering how lucky you were to live near the filming location. Noelle spent the ride singing her little songs, occasionally asking, “How much longer, Mama?” before going back to talking to her stuffed bunny.

When you finally arrived, your stomach tightened with nerves. You weren’t used to this. The idea of walking onto a set filled with actors, crew members, and people who knew Drew in a way you never really experienced firsthand was… intimidating.

But then, as soon as you stepped out of the car and unbuckled Noe from her car seat, you saw him.

Drew was standing near the entrance, shifting from foot to foot like an excited kid waiting for Christmas morning. His hands were stuffed into the pockets of his jeans, but the moment he spotted you and Noelle, his entire face lit up, his smile was so bright it rivaled the sun.

You squeezed Noelle’s hand gently.

“Noe, who’s that?” you asked softly, giving her a little shake to get her attention.

She looked up, eyes scanning the area until they locked onto Drew. Her face immediately mirrored his.

“DADA!”

Before you could react, she let go of your hand and sprinted toward him, her tiny legs moving as fast as they could. Drew didn’t even hesitate he dropped to his knees, arms outstretched, ready to catch her.

She crashed into him, giggling as he scooped her up and pressed a million kisses to her cheeks.

“Hi, my baby,”

Drew murmured against her hair, holding her close.

“I missed you so much.”

“I miss you, Dada,” she mumbled into his shoulder, arms locked tightly around his neck.

You walked toward them at a slower pace, adjusting your black mask and hat, feeling both relieved and oddly emotional at the reunion in front of you.

When you reached them, Drew tilted his head up, his eyes shining with nothing but love.

“Oh, my two favorite people on this entire planet,” he said, pulling you in for a hug. His lips found yours in a quick but tender kiss, his free hand resting on the small of your back. Then, he pressed another kiss to Noe’s head.

“Thank you for coming,” he murmured, his voice soft but filled with gratitude.

“I know you hate crowds, but—”

“Shhh,” you cut him off gently, smiling behind your mask.

“I’m happy to be here. Really.”

Drew’s eyes softened, searching yours like he wanted to make sure you weren’t just saying that for his sake. Then he grinned.

“Are we happy to be here, Noe?”

She lifted her head from his shoulder and nodded eagerly.

“Um hmm, Mama.”

Before Drew could respond, a new voice cut in.

“Oh my god, look who it is.”

You turned your head just in time to see Madison Bailey walking toward you, eyes wide with excitement.

You had seen her in interviews, heard Drew talk about her often, but this was your first time actually meeting her in person. And wow, she was just as gorgeous as she looked on screen.

“Hey, Y/N!” Madison grinned.

“Oh my gosh, first time meeting! Drew talks so much about you.”

You chuckled lightly.

“Hey, nice to finally meet you. I hope you’ve only heard the good things about me from him.”

Madison laughed.

“Oh, of course. And look who this little princess is.”

Noelle, suddenly shy, buried her face in Drew’s neck, her tiny fingers gripping his shirt.

Drew chuckled, rubbing her back soothingly.

“Noe, baby, can you say hi?”

Noelle hesitated, then peeked out just enough to whisper, “I’m… Noelle… Noelle Starkey.”

Madison melted on the spot.

“Oh my god. I’m in love.”

Drew beamed, pressing a kiss to Noe’s temple.

“She’s a heartbreaker already.”

Madison gently held out her hand.

“It’s so nice to meet you, Noelle.”

Noelle hesitated but, being the polite little girl she was, finally mumbled,

“Hi, Madison.”

Drew grinned.

“Hey, Noe, do you wanna meet all of Dada’s friends?”

Noelle peeked up at him, her shyness still lingering, but after a second, she gave a tiny nod.

And just like that, the entire Outer Banks cast became completely obsessed with her.

Jonathan and Chase immediately tried to win her over with goofy faces and silly voices. Carlacia called her “the most precious little human alive” and somehow managed to get Noelle to hold her hand for a few minutes. Rudy, being Rudy, had Noe giggling with a few exaggerated stories about her dad being a total dork on set (which Drew immediately denied, much to everyone’s amusement).

You mostly stayed by Drew’s side, quietly observing and enjoying the way he beamed with pride at Noe. Every time someone fawned over her, he would give you a little squeeze, like he was silently saying, We made this perfect little human.

Eventually, the day started to wind down, and Drew pulled you aside, holding Noelle close as she rested sleepily against his shoulder.

“Thank you,” he murmured.

You tilted your head.

“For what?”

“For coming. For letting everyone meet Noe. For stepping out of your comfort zone for me.”

You smiled softly.

“You’re worth it, Drew.”

His grip tightened around you, his eyes filled with nothing but love.

“So are you.”

[dumpywrites]

Trophy Boy - Jeon Jungkook

Prompt: Beauty privilege exists, that's why you're selling your hot best friend.

Prompt request: HERE

Genre/tags: Fluff, friends to lovers, model! Jungkook, soft! Jungkook, office worker reader

Pairing: Jungkook x she/her reader

a/n: softie and goofy Jungkook is my weakness! and I know ya'll feel the same way :)

Yet another busy day at the office. You were sitting down in a slumped position in your cubicle, something you should probably change or would regret in the future. The hot air was not helping you at all and you were starting to sweat through your stripped shirt, despite the air conditioner being on full blast. 

Boss just entered the room with the not-so-short rant targeted specifically to the marketing team. Apparently interest in buying plain tees and other basic fashion items were not the greatest at the moment, but if you actually were to be frank, it was more on the brand you were working at. Your boss was blaming things left and right, trying to find excuses to cope with his current losses. 

The thing was with the big guy, was that he wanted huge impact while spending the smallest amount he could possibly afford. It was a somewhat clever business decision in terms of saving cost, but sometimes people just needed that extra boom. That go big or go home. If your boss wanted his brand to reach a new market of people, he needed to brave himself for greater risks. 

“Sir, maybe we do need to endorse some big name influencers to help boost our social media exposure.” One of your co-workers spoke up. 

“We cannot afford millions just for a few Instagram stories, moreover they charge more for a simple photoshoots.” Your boss replied with a groan. 

“Sir, but if you look at how Calvin Klein promote their stuff, we obviously need some good looking people wearing and demonstrating how good our products could be.” The guy retorted. “Good looking people make basic items look good. That’s literally what they do.” 

“Good looking people cost a lot, Hoseok. If you could somehow find me a drop dead gorgeous guy who would somehow accept anything under thirty dollars per hour, we’ll talk.” And with that the man walked out from the room. 

“Well good luck on that, I guess.” Hoseok rolled his eyes with a smirk. 

“At this rate you’re gonna get kick out.” You eyed the guy next to you. “We don’t want that, remember? We need you resigning with class, so that you don’t get a bad rep???”

“That man needs to know that whatever boomer shit we’re doing here, ain’t gonna boost our sales!” He protested. “You could buy plain white t-shirts anywhere, what makes us special?!”

“True.” You sighed. “I even heard the design team complaining about this.”

“If only we could afford that one handsome mukbang streamer who is everywhere right now.” Hoseok sighed along with you. 

“If you could magically make Kim Seokjin to accept three hundred per hour I would literally worship you.” 

“Do you maybe have any hot friends?” 

“God, I don’t know?! Do you??? I don’t have any friends who are influencers or anything.” 

“Can I see any group photos you have? They don’t have to be an influencer. Just gotta be good looking enough. The rest can be helped through styling.” Hoseok scooted closer. 

“You sound crazy.” You eyed the guy, shaking your head. “Are we that desperate?!”

“Hey, maybe doing this could help me get that recommendation letter, you know?” Hoseok said smugly. “Now let me look through your friend group…”

“If you wanted a decent looking guy that we could revamp by styling later, Yoongi literally exists.” You said, suggesting the tech-support guy. 

“He’s short. Although I get your point, would he even be willing to do so without actually killing any of us???”

“Fair enough.” You laughed. “Here, I don’t know, take a look at my friends, I guess…”You handed him your phone. 

The picture you flashed on your phone screen was from a recent dinner hangout you had with your group friend of five. Hoseok throughly scanned the photo as if he was doing some detective work. It did not take him too long before an idea popped and he snapped his fingers. He straightened his pose and moved his chair closer to you. 

“Who is this hunk with tattoos?!”

“Uh, that’s my friend Jungkook?” You eyed him suspiciously. “Don’t tell me—“

“He’s hot.”

You stopped and looked back to your co-worker’s direction. “He’s the most unserious person I know, we can’t—“

“But he’s hot.” Hoseok cut your sentence again. “He’s not like a model or something, right?”

“He’s a graphic designer…” You replied, unsure. 

“Perfect! That means he won’t mind us underpaying him.” He smirked. “Do not argue with me right now, I know you agree with me.”

You eyed the guy again, searching for doubt and found none. The guy was dead serious about this. 

“Fine.”

**

And that was how you found yourself assisting your friend for his now third photoshoot. After the first one being a huge success, your company kept asking for more content and for him to become their part time model. 

Obviously your friend’s beauty was no news for you. Jungkook had always been cute in your eyes alone, way before he discovered Pinterest and basic styling. You had known him for a few years, the friend group was built around university days after all, and you had seen him through thick and thin. Literally though, you saw him transformed from this scrawny boy to a gym bro right in front of you. 

Your thoughts were interrupted by a few knocks at the door. You straightened your figure and told the person to enter. 

“Hi, Y/N!” 

It was Chaewon from design department. Her alongside with Jimin both work in the fashion area. While she designed the silhouettes, Jimin helped with the styling. Even though she was a normal employee like you, she actually was the CEO’s daughter. It was a known fact already, but she insisted to be treated the same as everyone else. 

“Hi, do you need something, Chaewon?” 

“I need to talk to you about something…” The girl said, looking nervous. She was fidgeting her fingertips and looking to other direction. 

“Sure, what is it?”

“Jungkook’s your friend, right?”

“Uh, yeah… why?”

“I really need your help.” She put her hands together above her head. “I need a plus one to a wedding.”

“And you need Jungkook to help you?” You looked at her questioningly. 

“Yes!” She said, nodding her head a few times. “Please, my ex is gonna be there.”

“I’m not sure if he’s willing—“

“I’ll pay.”

You froze and she continued again. 

“I overheard you talking to Hoseok that Jungkook’s not getting the pay he deserves because he’s new…“

“Chaewon, you don’t have to—“

“Please, just this once??? If it makes you feel better I’ll pay you both.” When you stopped she added. “Is five hundred enough? I’ll give you the same amount.” 

You gulped. So unlike her father, Chaewon was not at all stingy. Her offer sounded really tempting. While you wanted to say it sounded good in your head out of good conscious in you, because Jungkook deserved better pay, you also couldn’t lie to yourself that you needed the extra dollars at the moment. Accidentally dropping your phone from the stairs and having to replace the whole screen certainly did a dent to your savings. Not to mention how your car just broke down a month ago.

“I’ll… ask him.”

“Awesome. Let me know as soon as possible cause the wedding’s this weekend!” She smiled before exiting the room. 

You spent the next few hours contemplating with your inner debate. It sounded rather wrong, but there’s no harm if he agrees to it? You thought. 

“Hey, there!”

Speak of the devil. There he was, skipping through the office walking straight to your shared room. The muscle bunny, sometimes his duality scared you, how his facial expression and demeanor could switch in between takes and breaks. He looked effortlessly good with the brand’s blank white t-shirt hugging his body nicely. Let Jimin cook because he styled his hair wavy this time and it looked so good on him. 

“Hello to you too, Mr. Model.” You shook your head, smiling. “Done with the shoots?”

“Yep. I finished an hour earlier this time.” He leaned to your table with a grin on his lips. 

“You didn’t give Jimin and Chaewon a hard time, right?” You said, mentioning the design team. 

“Nope.” He giggled. “Chaewon even said that I’ve improved a lot and I barely need any pose references now.”

“That’s great.” You said with your eyes still glued to the computer screen. 

He hummed and took the empty seat next to you. He started flipping through his phone, not wanting to disturb you but also not wanting to leave.

“Aren’t you leaving? Hoseok’s meeting is done in like ten minutes. He’s gonna need that seat.” You pointed. 

He bit his inner cheeks. “What time are you finished?”

“At five? And you knew this already, stop asking.”

“Who knows if I keep asking, one day you’ll get to clock out earlier.” He shrugged. 

You chuckled. “You know you don’t have to wait up for me every single time.” 

“You got me the job, it’s only fair. Besides, I’m not doing photoshoots every single day.”

Yeah and they’re underpaying you. You sighed. “Kook, I want to ask you something…”

His eyes lit up as he perked up, looking to your direction like a puppy. He nodded eagerly with a smile, waiting for you. “Yeah?”

“Chaewon asked me if you’d be interested on being her plus one at a wedding?”

The excitement in his face dropped almost instantly. You could see his eyes frowned at the question thrown at him. 

“That’s weird. Why would she?”

“It’s a wedding and her ex is attending.” You explained. “She said she’ll pay.”

“Nah, that’s still fucked up though. Isn’t she the big boss’ daughter or something?!” He raised his eyebrows. 

“But she’ll pay.” You repeated. “She told me five hundred…”

“Oh shit.” He widened his eyes. “For real?!”

You nodded. “Just say yes, it’s literally just a one time thing.” 

“You sure?” 

“Yeah, I’ll help you out with everything.” 

He breathed out a sigh. “Alright, only if you’ll help me out.” 

“Great, I’ll let Chaewon know.” You turned your head quickly realizing Hoseok was already at the door. “Go home, don’t wait up for me.”

He shook his head and smile. “Okay, don’t forget to eat, yeah?” 

“I won’t. See ya, Kook.” 

He waved his hand to you with a big tooth-aching smile and headed towards the door. He briefly waved to Hoseok and the guy greeted him back before he went out. 

“How are you not dating that dude is beyond me.” Hoseok suddenly blurted as he calmly took his seat. 

You almost choked on nothing. “Excuse me?!”

“That boy is clearly into you. He basically waits for you every single time like an obedient dog.”

“Cause he’s my friend and I technically got him this job? He said it himself.”

“Sure.” He snickered, eyes immediately back to his computer screen. “Keep telling yourself that.”

“I will because that’s the truth.” You rolled your eyes and returned to your work. 

**

As promised, you found yourself accompanying Jungkook on a Saturday morning, helping him choosing a suit. Jimin was kind enough to recommend you a good place to rental one. Man only had baggy clothes and baggy clothes only in his wardrobe, and for sure they were not a good fit for a wedding.

“Have you asked Chaewon what color she’ll be wearing?” Jungkook asked as he browsed through the hanger. 

“Didn’t I gave you her number? You should talk to her you know, it’ll be less awkward.” 

The guy puffed his cheeks, pouting. “Dunno dude… It still feels kinda weird to me. I’ll rehearse when I pick her up.” 

“Oh, speaking of that. I’ve rented the car for you. It’s a Lexus.”

“Couldn’t afford a Porche or some?” 

“I figured we don’t need to be that flashy.”

“I was joking.” Jungkook sighed with a smile. “It’s always straight up business with you, huh?”

“What’s that suppose to mean?” You looked at him for a second, but proofing him right as your eyes quickly moved to the loafer shoes at the shelf. “I think these could go well with your suit.” 

The man sighed again with a defeated smile on his face as he took the loader to try them on. “This is fun too, I guess…”

“You mean renting an outfit and cosplaying as a rich person?” You quirked your eyebrow and grinned. 

“No, I mean hanging out with you like this, silly. When was even the last time we hangout like this?” He chuckled, jumping up and down as he tried the shoes. “Would you look at that, I could probably dance in these!” 

“We’ll take those then.” You gestured him to take them off and he did so. “I don’t know, back in college??? Back then when I helped you buying an outfit for—“

“Don’t!” With his eyes widened he immediately stopped you from finishing your sentence. 

“Why?” You laughed. 

“Do not even man… that was so embarrassing.” He covered his face. “My confidence level was through the roof thinking I could win someone with a bowl cut.”

“Hey, that bowl cut wasn’t so bad!” You chuckled. “Aww, I suddenly missed the cute and innocent looking Jungkookie…”

“You mean I don’t look cute and innocent anymore?” He batted his eyelashes at you jokingly. 

“Taehyung thought you were a drug dealer when he first met you.” You folded your arms. 

“He’s a judgmental person.” He clicked his tongue. “I am in fact still cute, you need to accept that.”

“Sure.” You giggled and patted him right in his tatted bicep. 

There were some audible protests coming from your friend, but you let him be as you paid for the rented clothings and footwear. 

After making sure all things were set, you texted Chaewon to double check on the time and place, as well as asking her on whether there was a specific topic she wanted to talk or not to talk. Jungkook still refused to call her or even text her personally, which is a bit annoying, but at the end of the day you were also getting that paycheck so you couldn’t complain too much, since Jungkook was the main performer in this after all. 

“All good?” You asked him. 

“Do you think I should take off my lip piercings?” He said, looking at the mirror. 

“Nah, it’s fine. Chaewon already knows what she’s doing when she asked for you.” 

“She specifically wants a bad boy for a plus one?” 

“Now who says you’re a bad boy?”

“I thought we just had a talk about how I don’t look cute and innocent anymore???” He turned to face you. “Although, I’m not a believer but that’s your statement.” He shrugged with a big smirk on his lips. 

“Your exterior yes, but you’re not fooling anyone with your personality, my guy. You’re a softie.” You chuckled and moved closer to fix his crooked tie.

A genuine smile was visible on his face. “Glad to hear that.” 

Seeing his smile instantly made you did as well. “Nervous?”

“Me? Nah, never.” He dismissed. 

“Of course.” You giggled. “Go, we’re so gonna try that new Japanese restaurant after this!”

And the party went well. Apparently Jungkook impressed all of Chaewon’s friends, even though they were not the main target and some were even aware of the agreement. Most importantly, he got her ex’s attention. He got the guy approaching, introducing himself, and seemingly pissed when Jungkook decided not to reveal his name to him in return. 

In conclusion, Chaewon had a great time and both of you were paid handsomely. Oh, that wagyu beef you had together afterwards sure was delicious! 

**

“I may need to borrow Jungkook again.” 

You stared at the lady in front of you, fazed. Chaewon had just stopped you right after work, just randomly popping the sentence out of nowhere. You were not too sure how to react. 

“I’ll pay again! Don’t worry.” She giggled nervously. “It’s just that, my parents actually think it’s good if I have someone with me to attend a shareholder party…” 

“I see.” Was all you could say. 

“They don’t know I’m paying both of you but they do think he’s one good looking arm candy…”

You sure did not like how she phrased that. 

“It’ll be quicker than the wedding, it’s just a small dinner.” She reasoned again. “Can you ask Jungkook?”

“Why don’t you?” You cleared your throat quickly after realizing how that might sound rude. “I mean, you could just ask him?”

“I don’t think he’s that comfortable with me… He also talked to me through you, no? Please, I really need your help.” 

“I…” The thought of your unfinished car payment started to fill your mind again. “I’ll talk to him.” 

“I’m counting on you.” She quickly reached for your hand and shook it vigorously. “And uh, keep it between us but I think you’ll be getting a raise next month with your contribution and all.” She winked before leaving you. 

The whole ride back home got you thinking deeply. Mostly considering your morals and common sense. Sure it was easy money on your part, and while Jungkook himself had not shown major complaints, you couldn’t help but to feel awful. You then decided to give him a call.

“Ye?” The guy on the other line sounded like he had food inside his mouth as he spoke. 

“You busy?” 

“Wait.” He said, seemingly taking his time to swallow. “No, I was just catching up on Squid Game with Bam. What’s up?”

“Chaewon kinda asked for your help again.” 

“Huh?” He voiced, followed by an upcoming video call notification. 

“Wait, do you really have to video call right now???” You swore you almost laughed, this man could be out of this world sometimes. 

“I need your live reaction.” He chuckled. “And Bam too! Don’t you miss him?”

“Shit, hold on.” You quickly took a peek at your reflection in the mirror, making sure your at home appearance was at least presentable before you accept the call request. “You are so weird, you know that?”

“I’m aware.” He laughed and took his dog’s paw to playfully wave at you, making you smile. 

“So uh, about Chaewon…”

“Oh yeah, that.” He frowned. “Do I need to go to another wedding? Damn, people must really care about the declining birth rate…”

“Her parents apparently wanted her to go to a dinner with the shareholders.” You controlled yourself not to make any weird expression, thinking about the word eye-candy Chaewon called him still rubbed you the wrong way. 

“Oh, am I gonna get introduced as a model?” He beamed. “That’d be cool.” 

“I don’t know.” You said, trying not to sound discouraging. “She’s gonna pay again though…”

“Ah…” He nodded, biting his inner cheeks. “I kinda need me a new camera…” 

“So?”

“Yeah, why the heck not.” He shrugged. “Does this mean we’ll get another makeover montage moment though???”

“We don’t need to rent a suit for this but I’ll help you out with your outfit choices, I guess.” 

“Cool, it’s a date then?”

You looked at him a bit weirded out but man just flashed you a big grin like it was nothing. 

“What?! I mean it’s kinda like a date since I don’t have to dress all formal.” He chuckled. 

“Of course.” You rolled your eyes. 

“I wonder though, I’m not one to judge but can’t she have anyone, I don’t know… more normal?” He then threw a cheeto in his mouth, snacking on it. “She’s a rich girl who’s also conveniently good looking. I’m sure there’s someone willing to go without payment.”

“You think she’s pretty?”

“I mean yeah.” He said, casually crunching on another cheeto. 

You didn’t know why a random opinion of his bothered you somehow, but you decided to shoo the thoughts away. “I don’t know but I think you’re underestimating the power you hold here.”

“What do you mean?”

“Jungkook, you are aware that you’re hot, right?” That might be too bold of you, but you were feeling a bit frisky. 

“Oooh~” He laughed giddily. “Didn’t know you think of me that way but thank you.” 

“Don’t play dumb, I wouldn’t offer you the job if I thought otherwise.” 

“I’m so telling the others. They need to know that you find me hot.” 

“Jungkook, what the hell—“

“Matter of fact, I’m gonna invite Taehyung to this call…” He snickered. 

“What?! No!” You quickly pressed the end call button out of panic. 

A text notification showed up immediately after the line ended, filled with a bunch of laughing emojis, saying that he was just joking and that he would see you on the next photoshoot. You wondered what made your heart doing summersaults but it did for a moment. 

**

“What do girls even like?” Jungkook asked you as he put on his leather jacket. “I probably won’t need this since I won’t be riding my bike, huh?”

You were sitting on his bed, one which had a few clothings messily displayed. It was an off day but you needed to help him with his outfit for another “gig” with Chaewon. The supposed job was not until the next day, but you had to visit your family hence why you were meeting a day prior. To be frank, you didn’t think he even needed you, considering you knew how he dressed on daily basis, but somehow he kept insisting that he needed your opinion as a woman, his words not yours. 

“Just be yourself.” You said as you looked at him from top to bottom. “Do not loose the jacket, it’s nice.” 

He put the outer back on, admiring at his reflection on the mirror. “You think?”

“I’m sure you go on a lot of dates… I assumed.” You gave him a look. 

“Oh, you think so?” He chuckled. 

You looked at him suspiciously. “I don’t know? It’s not like I know your private life like that. When was the last time you went out on a date?”

“Hmm.” He tapped his chin in a comical way. “Last month, I think?”

You almost asked on why you hadn’t heard any of it, but you felt like it wasn’t your place to. “Oh? How was it?”

“It was okay-ish.” He shrugged. “I think she liked me I dunno…”

“You seem disinterested.” 

“You gotta try dating apps man… it drains you so much mentally to the point you start thinking everyone’s the same and nothing really matters.” He laughed. 

“You sure you’re not exaggerating?” 

“Maybe I am just a bit.” He chuckled. “But man… I’m so fed up with people!” He said, joining you sitting down on his bed. 

“Then why don’t you just delete the app?” 

He shrugged. “At the end of the day I’m still a human being who needs someone. It gets lonely sometimes.” 

“I wanna say working is a great distraction but let’s be honest it’s not.” You shook your head. 

“What ever happened to that guy that Namjoon introduced you to?” 

“Didn’t quite worked out. Plus, that was like what, five months ago??? Keep up with the news, please.” You laughed. 

“And no one told me?!” He looked at you, pretending to be offended. 

“It’s not exactly the most interesting story to tell… He’s a nice guy but two weeks into knowing him, he had to move to Singapore for a job.”

“Damn, that’s sad.” He clicked his tongue. 

“He’s not exactly my type anyways.” You chuckled. 

Jungkook wiggled his eyebrows, instantly getting a judgy look from you. “How exactly is your type then?”

“I like my men like I like my food.”

“Girlie, you eat anything.” Jungkook slanted his eyes. 

“Exactly, I’m not picky. As long as they’re honest and kind… I guess.”

He booed. “That’s boring.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help a smile. “Hey, I’m a simple person. And in today’s world it’s hard to find someone who has those traits, you know?” You hit his arm. “What about you? Being a model and all now must have set a new standard for you, huh?”

He laughed. “Nah, I don’t really have a type either. I just want someone who matches my freak.”

“That’s gotta be hard.” You giggled. 

“Hopefully not.” He grinned. “I mean, you kinda do…” He looked up at the ceiling, playfully whistling. 

“Aww, Kookie~” You cooed, teasing him. 

“I’m not joking.” He furrowed his brows like a kid. 

“Of course not.” You chuckled and ruffled his already messy hair. 

Jungkook protested and grabbed your wrist to stop you, but for a moment both of you stopped at eye level, just looking into each other. Your teasing grin slowly faded to be replaced with a tense gaze. The dark round pair of orbs were now staring into your eyes. 

Your mind was short circuiting when he suddenly moved closer. Your eyes squinted shut immediately, but nothing really happened after that. Jungkook just laughed it out and softly pushed you off him.

**

After the second agreement ended successfully, Chaewon had decided to come back yet again asking for Jungkook’s help. For sure she couldn’t be having that many social events to attend to, but apparently she did. This time, she needed him for her school reunion, said that it’d bad for her rep to show up alone after introducing him to her so-called friends just recently. 

This time, you were at your limit though. You weren’t so sure how Jungkook felt about the whole ordeal, but you on the other hand felt terrible. You could not just keep continuing and pretending like you weren’t basically selling your friend for money. And so after taking a deep breath, you politely rejected her offer. 

“Oh, come on! It’ll be the last time! Please???”She pleaded. 

“You need to ask him then, and uh… if he ends up agreeing you don’t have to pay me anymore. I kinda feel bad….”

“Guess I have to ask him myself then.” She heaved a sigh. “I’ll ask him after his photoshoot today.”

“I don’t mean to offend you in any way though, I just feel like I’m exploiting him.”

“No, don’t worry I get it.” She smiled, waving her hand in front of her face. 

When you arrived at the set the photoshoot was nearly on its end. As usual you get to monitor a bit and asked the staff about the progress. What was odd and new to you was seeing Chaewon being touchy with Jungkook. You knew she was a stylist and it was her job to take care of his looks during the shoot, but the high pitch laughs? Did she really need to touch his hair like that? And why did Jungkook seemed fine and joked back with her. The photographer definitely did not have to say that they look good together too. 

You did not hear anything from Jungkook after his photoshoot. You were busy with your job, mostly trying to distract yourself from the fact that you were too scared to ask the guy, you were even too anxious to meet him just at the thought of him finding out about your agreement. You didn’t get the chance to find out the event but kept wondering if he had agreed or not. Seeing how friendly they were today, maybe he did say yes to it. 

You also wondered since when did you start feeling jealous over this whole situation. Maybe that one moment between you and Jungkook that day really did something to you. He was about to kiss you, wasn’t he? Or maybe you were just going crazy. 

Funny enough, you thought the lad had went home straight after his photoshoot, but he surprised you with two cups of boba in his hands right after work. 

“You’re still here?!” You were surprised. 

“I didn’t wanna bother you, you seemed very focused today.” He giggled and handed you one of the drinks. “Let’s find somewhere to sit and finish the drink, I’ll take you home after.”

You gulped, the anxiety starting to consume you again. “O-Okay.”

Jungkook seemed to notice the nervousness in the tone of your voice as he looked at you, but he didn’t say anything. You two walked towards a nearby bench outside the building and sat down. It was chilly and you could see the wind blowing his hair nicely, making him look straight out of a movie scene. 

“Thanks… for the boba.” You said, a little nervous. 

“Chaewon kinda gave me an offer again…” 

“Oh.” You said, avoiding his eyes. “How did that go?”

“I don’t know I’m still thinking about it.”

“I see.” You said, trying not to sound too unenthusiastic about it. 

“She said you don’t wanna be involved anymore though.” He stopped walking. “Did I do something wrong??? If it’s about what happened last time I’m terribly sorry…”

“No! Jungkook, you’re not the one who should be apologizing here!” You sighed. 

“Why?”

You couldn’t find yourself to explain further. “You should just say yes, it literally means no harm.”

“But why don’t you wanna help out anymore?!”

One thing about Jungkook was that he sure was one hell of a hard headed man. 

“I just have more stuff I need to handle outside work and I don’t have the time.” You lied. 

Jungkook looked at you with doubt but nodded anyway. “But we’re okay though, right?”

The big round eyeballs were looking at you, as if pleading. Who would say no to that. 

**

At this point you were sure there was something wrong with you. 

You knew Jungkook had to come today for some extra footages. That was why you were trying your hardest to not leave your room and made yourself look busy. Hoseok seemed to notice your weird behavior but this time the man said nothing and let you be. 

You managed to avoid your friend for an insufferable few hours, until you had to go to relieve yourself. You saw Chaewon and Jimin first, but then the person who you were suppose to avoid popped out from the restroom, seemingly just done changing back to his own clothes. 

Your eyes met immediately and of course his first reaction was to flash you the brightest smile he could. You could tell there was a hint of awkwardness in it, but you didn’t want to further ponder on it. 

You waved back timidly, hurrying yourself to the toilet. You even spent a good ten minutes there, hoping they’d leave, but when you were done, Chaewon and Jungkook were still chatting in front. 

Chaewon smiled in defeat and grabbed you by your arm. “I just got rejected.” 

You widened your eyes and instantly jerked your head towards your friend. The guy only smiled in return. 

“Guess you guys are really a bundle, huh? Maybe I should consider asking our tech support guy.” She chuckled. 

“Why don’t you just date for real? I could introduce you to some guys.” Jungkook said. 

“No, not right now at least.” She giggled. “Too bad, you can’t help me anymore, it’s not exactly easy to find people who would just agree to this.”

“Really?” Jungkook voiced. “I thought you’ve done this before.”

“Why do you think I even paid your friend here just so you could say yes?” She laughed, not knowing the information she had just revealed. 

“Oh, you also got paid?”

“Excuse me, if you guys don’t mind I still got work left undone.” 

Without looking back you quickly escaped the scene and half-ran to your room. Neither of them came looking for you afterwards so you assumed you were at least safe for the day. 

That was again until you saw a certain Bambi eyed, boba ball looking man waiting for you at the front entrance. 

“You finished early today.” He waved. “Wanna get some corndog? I—“

“Jungkook, why aren’t you mad at me?”

The guy looked at you for a second before speaking. “Why should I be angry at you again?”

You sighed. “I got paid without you knowing. I basically sold you.” You looked away, trying to control your emotion. 

You heard his sigh and his shoulders drooped as he walked closer to you. “No, you didn’t. I also got paid and I enjoyed doing the job.”

“If you enjoyed it then what’s the difference if I’m involved or not? I’m sure you don’t need my help.”

“Do I really have to spell it out for you?” He took a last sip of the drink in his hand before setting it aside. “I only agreed just so I can spend time with you more, dummy.”

You were lost of words.

“I thought having a crush on you was a phase but it turns out I really do like you.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Oh dear, I hope I’m not making this weird for you.” He chuckled nervously. 

Your mouth went slightly ajar as you froze in place. Jungkook liked you? 

“I’m sorry again for that day. I tried to kiss you, it was weird and you seemed really scared. I still can’t get that image out of my head.” Seeing you being all silent he started to panic. “Say something… please.” 

You were still processing the whole thing. First thing your friend having feelings for you, second being you seemingly discovering that you were not opposed to the idea and your heart was beating so fast it could explode in any moment. So the weird feeling you had been feeling the past few days, weeks even, was something after all. 

You looked up at him, eyes almost teary. “Hold on let me process this.” 

“I’m so sorry, you don’t have to say anything back! I’m just gonna go—“ 

“I like you too.” You shyly smiled. 

“Oh.” The guy’s cheeks turned pink as he giddily smiled back. “That’s nice…” 

“Uh huh.” You giggled. 

“So, wanna hold hands?” He looked away as he offered his hand to you. 

You expected him to be more on the confident playboy type now, guess you were wrong. Guess the same boy you knew still existed. 

You smiled, cheeks turning red as well as you took his hand. “You are such a nerd.” 

Both of you walked hand in hand that night, feeling all warm inside despite the cold night air. 

Thank you for reading! 📸

[sydnikov]

Donut || M. Knies

Author: Sydney / @sydnikov

Pairing: Matthew Knies / fem!Reader

Word Count: 7.8k

Summary: Figure skating is no longer a sport you compete in, the decision to quit having been made years and years ago, but the magic you feel everytime you step on the ice will never fade. It’s why you coach in Toronto, but you’ve never coached at the Toronto Maple Leafs’ practice arena before—Matthew Knies just so happens to see you on your very first day, and is immediately obsessed. His charm and wittiness win you over easily, even though you’re apprehensive at the start.

Warnings: Cursing, kissing, kinda bad proofreading, and a disgusting amount of fluff

A/N: The hockey player x figure skater trope nobody asked for except it’s written by someone who *actually* figure skates 🤭 This is so silly and way too cute omg but it’s for @lifeofpriya for @wyattjohnston's winter fic exchange!! I hope you and everyone else enjoys!! <3

Cold. So cold.

It’s the first feeling your body registers as the shrill sound of your alarm blares through the quietness of your small apartment on a dark, dreary December day in Toronto.

You quickly pick up your phone from the nightstand it was charging on, eyes shrivelling shut at the brightness before you turn off the alarm. Once it’s off, you take a moment to contemplate why you make yourself do this after so many years but never bring yourself to quit.

Figure skating. Your lifeline and also your death sentence—at least you’re convinced it will be, eventually.

It’s the only thing that makes your five-thirty in the morning wake-up worth it, even as you remove yourself from the warmth of your bed.

You’re convinced you can see your breath once you turn on the light in your bathroom, holding back a shiver as you tie your hair back to brush your teeth and wash your face. It’s better to just start getting ready immediately, a routine you picked up way back in your early skating days, lest you fall back asleep.

Growing into your teens, you found it harder and harder to put yourself through the gruelling early hours that competitive figure skating requires, and there were only so many laps of power pulls you could take in punishment for being late before you had to come up with a solution to keep to your schedule.

Dragging yourself out of bed the moment you become conscious is, unfortunately, the only solution that worked, and still is, unfortunately, what you do now even though your own competition days are over.

You don’t skate for you, really, not anymore; you skate for your students, all five of them that you coach at different times throughout the week. Anna, the sixteen year-old girl who you have at eight o’clock sharp this day, is your only source of motivation as you finish your makeup and hair for the lesson.

Normally you don’t bother with a super kept-up appearance for your coaching lessons, but this day in particular has you coaching at a brand new rink, and you figure that first impressions to whoever you may or may not meet will matter.

The rink you usually coach at - an older place that’s definitely seen finer days and on the outskirts of Toronto but close to you - is finally being put out of its misery, as you like to say.

(It’s just getting a well-deserved renovation.)

An hour later, you’re all bundled up and ready to face the frigid Toronto air that awaits you. You have on three top layers total: a normal long-sleeved shirt, a thick jacket, and then your winter coat on top. You then have leggings to skate in with sweats over top to brave the elements, and those along with your coat come off once you get to the rink.

As you step out into the hallway which immediately opens to the outdoors, you quickly lock up before shoving your gloved hands in your pockets and swiftly make your way to the train that’s supposed to get you to your new rink.

Actually getting on and boarding is the easiest part; it’s so early in the morning that few occupants means little waiting time, one of the only saving graces of waking up at such an ungodly hour.

Once you’re settled, you plug in your earbuds and wait out the forty-five minute ride to your new rink.

“Morning,” The employee attending the front desk greets you after you walk into the rink, a little less than an hour later. “You have a pass?”

Your attempt at a smile is feeble, it still too early for you to bother putting on a social facade. “I’m a coach, I have a lesson here in twenty minutes.” You hold up the pass you printed out days in advance after registering on their website, transferring all the required credentials from your old rink.

The woman, probably about ten years older than you and looking just as exhausted as you feel, scans the barcode on your pass and waves you on. “Women’s locker rooms are down the hall on the right, there’s a door to the training rink in there too.”

“Thank you,” You say before following her directions, briefly admiring all of the Maple Leafs memorabilia covering the walls and ceiling.

Growing up, you never got into hockey—figure skating was your whole life and completely revolved around it, so any hobbies you picked up were separate from the ice entirely.

You did it for your sanity, but also because like most skaters, you grew to be annoyed by hockey players’ obnoxious presence. Not only were they cocky, but they tore up the ice with their complicated drills that zamboni refreshings never quite covered.

Stepping into the women’s locker room, you stopped in awe at how updated and nice it was. Fresh paint, large toilet stalls and showers, even the floors didn’t have you cringing at the thought of walking on them without your guards on.

Now, there’s still very much a hockey theme present; you suppose you weren’t going to escape that here with it being their practice rink, and all. You weren’t exactly happy to learn that tidbit of information, but at least you have early lessons, so the crowds that likely always show up wouldn’t be here at seven-thirty in the morning.

It’s five minutes later that your student for this session, Anna, saunters in, skates already adorned in a cute workout set that as a teen you would have loved, but now in your twenties find it wouldn’t keep you warm enough.

She looks as if she could take on the world, bright-eyed and full of youthful energy you admire her for having so early in the day.

Geez. You sound like you’re fifty.

“Good morning, Anna,” You greet her, sending her a smile as you quickly go through some stretches to get your legs warmed up. “Ready to get choreographing? I have about half of your long done so far.”

A long program, or a free skate, is a four minute routine that all types of skaters have for competitions. It requires a balance of all the technical elements like jumps and spins but also artistry, or how well one performs to the music.

It’s your least favorite type of program because it takes the most amount of time to perfect and is also hell to perform; if you think four minutes doesn’t sound that bad, imagine having to fly across the ice at top speeds all while maintaining elegance, power, and accuracy in every movement you do—all on blades.

“I’m so excited,” Anna replies, clapping her hands together. “I’ve been listening to my music nonstop since, like, you first suggested it to me.”

“That was over a month ago before we even settled on it!” You laugh, finally joining her in putting your skates on.

While you don’t skate professionally anymore, you still have a pair of skates you use when you actually feel like skating for fun—the skates you can safely jump and spin on. The skates you wear for coaching, an extremely worn-down pair that looks off-white now with the leather peeling off on the sides, have most definitely seen better days.

But they’re extremely comfy and perfect for recreational skating, which is all you do while coaching and is why you keep them.

“Alright,” You finally say, standing up and rubbing your hands over your arms which are slightly cold in your jacket now that your coat has come off. “Let’s go. You’ve skated here before, right?”

“Mhm!” She answers, leading the way out of the locker room and into the rink, the fresh ice glistening in the early sunlight coming from the windows up high. “I haven’t skated in this rink though. There’s like four in here and they’re open on different days.”

“You’ll have to show me the ropes one day,” You muse, following your student’s lead as she steps onto the bench, removing her guards before stepping onto the ice.

You don’t really have any intention of coming here unless you have to coach, though.

“Okay, then!” You announce, smoothly stepping onto the ice and gliding towards Anna who is getting ready to warm up. “I want you to warm up your edges, as well as your single jumps, got it?”

Anna salutes, not mockingly but rather endearingly. “Yes ma’am!” As she immediately takes off, you do your own on-ice warm up, though much less intense than hers.

While you won’t be skating her program fully - as in, doing the jumps and spins it requires - you do have to show her the footwork, which requires your body to be properly warm for all the edge work and artistry.

The ice lost its magic for you long ago, when skating became more about winning than having fun. Nonetheless, you still find satisfaction in the deep ripping sound as your blades sink into the ice, a sign of strong edges and good technique drilled into you at a young age.

As you go through your own warm up, you swing your arms up and around your chest loosely, trying to get your whole body as pliant as possible. While you do so your eyes wander, peering through the windows curiously.

The rink still isn’t full yet; you see only a mom and two little girls, an older man with his wife, and a group of maybe four men who had just walked in.

“I’m ready!” Anna suddenly announces, gaining back your attention as she skids to a quick stop in front of you. “Want me to plug in the music?”

“Nah, there’s no need,” You reply. “I can just play it on my phone. It’ll get too chaotic with it playing over the speakers.”

She nods in return, and you gesture with an arm to follow you to the center of the ice. “Alright, I have you starting here in the middle, but it doesn’t need to be exact because I’m having you do toepick steps in a spiral pattern…”

Meanwhile, Matthew Knies is cold. He should be used to it by now, but he was born and raised in Arizona where temperatures rarely drop below fifty degrees Fahrenheit during the day in winter. In Toronto, however, where a good day is above ten degrees?

He’ll just say he’s gotten used to his teammates teasing him when he shows up to practice bundled up in five layers of coats. His Slovakian ancestors would be ashamed.

This day is no different; stepping into the familiar practice arena for his team, the Toronto Maple Leafs, alongside some of his closer friends on said-team: Joe, Auston, and their captain, John. Matthew holds his arms close to his body, ignoring the snickers from Joe.

“Hey, it’s only negative six today! That’s five degrees higher than yesterday!”

Matthew looks at his friend with wide eyes. It only takes him a moment to realize he’s referring to the temperature in Celcius, not Fahrenheit.

“I still don’t know what that means in Fahrenheit,”

Joe laughs again, bumping their shoulders together as John and Auston check in at the front desk for them. “It’s really not that different once you learn, you know,”

“Another day, Joe, another day,” Matthew laments, laughing himself as Joe rolls his eyes. He holds back his chirp when John whistles for the two to follow, already several steps ahead of them.

Conversation forgotten, the four make their way to the assigned practice rink they’ll be using for the day. They’re one of the first groups to arrive, as the place is practically deserted at seven-thirty in the morning.

Matthew pulls his phone out of his pocket for a moment to scroll through his notifications, blindly following his teammates. He’s steadily ignoring them until Joe suddenly groans, the goalie swearing under his breath.

“Man, there’s gonna be holes all over the ice now—”

“The fuck are you talking about?” He laughs, only looking up to follow his friend’s gaze to where only two girls take up the ice. He immediately spots the figure skating blades and fully plans on teasing Joe about being afraid of some toe picks until one of the girls suddenly turns, and he immediately has the breath knocked out of his lungs.

Her face is flushed, likely from a mixture of the cold and skating, and her hair has tiny flyaways that she keeps trying to brush away. She’s also clearly a coach based on her coat that has ‘COACH’ in big, bold letters across the back. She’s doing some complicated, confusing footwork all up on the toe pick until stepping out, all long legs and loose arms.

Matthew’s throat dries up. She looks like an angel.

“Now, the fuck are you talking about—”

“That’s my wife.”

“What?”

“Oh my god, Joe, that’s my wife.”

“Hey Cap, did you know that Matty was married because I sure as hell didn’t?”

“No, shit, I mean,” He can’t find the right words to speak, too enraptured with the sight of the mystery woman (his future wife) gliding across the ice. “Tell the boys I’ll be right there? Thanks!”

He’s vaguely aware of Joe shouting something as he briskly walks away, but he only has eyes for you, the mysterious angel on ice.

Anna is currently running through the first twenty seconds of her program that you’ve taught so far, you standing at the boards right by the sound booth as if you were actually playing her music. She’s on the last part of the sequence, a spiral - a move where a skater raises one leg high in the air, upper body as parallel to the ice as possible - and her posture is stiff, but she seems to know that and corrects it herself before you have to.

Your back is to the glass, leaning against it casually. The door to the rink also happens to be right next to you, but you don’t notice until movement from the corner of your eye catches your attention. You’re used to parents lurking, especially Anna’s, but when you allow yourself to look you quickly realize it’s definitely not a parent.

A man, tall and broad-shouldered, adorned in what looks like three or more coats, stares at you expectantly. There’s a half-smile on his face that immediately puts you on edge because no one should be that happy at eight o’clock in the morning.

Anna just so happens to finish and rushes to the bench for a water break, which is the only reason you allow your focus from her to divert to him. “Can I help you?” You frown, very aware you come across as standoffish.

He doesn’t seem deterred. “Sorry. I, uh, didn’t mean to interrupt,” His voice is warm and slightly sheepish, and his hands are shoved deep into his coat pockets like he’s still not entirely sure why he’s here.

“I’m in the middle of coaching right now,” You state slowly, as Anna begins to make her way back to you. You go to say something else, but she taps you on the shoulder before you get the chance to. “I’m going to the restroom real quick,” She whispers, looking all too happy to leave you alone with him before she skates away without giving you a chance to respond, again.

Anna tends to do that a lot. Knowing her, she’s already planning your wedding.

Resisting the urge to get off the ice yourself, you turn back to the mystery man whose attention is still undeniably on you. “Do you need something, or…?”

“Not really, just… watching,” He says with a shrug. He shifts his weight from one foot to the other, the tips of his shoes barely scraping against the edge of the ice. “You’re good, by the way. Both of you. That—uh, what’s it called? The thing with the leg up? Looks impossible.”

You blink. “A spiral.”

“Right. Spiral. Cool.” He nods like he’s just learned some very important information, and you feel the corner of your mouth twitch against your better judgment.

“Do you… play here?” You ask, gesturing vaguely to the rink. A silly question on your end because you’re pretty sure you already know the answer.

“Hockey,” He says quickly, almost like it’s an apology. “I’m Matthew. I play for the Leafs,” He points a thumb over his shoulder, where a few of who you assume to be his teammates are slowly trickling out of a locker room. Most look tired, some half-watching, half-laughing about something.

Of course he’s a hockey player. You almost forgot you were at an NHL team’s official practice arena.

“Right,” You say curtly, briefly looking for Anna who still has not returned. “Well, my student still hasn’t come back, but we’re almost done, anyways. You’ve got the ice in ten, I think.”

“I wasn’t rushing you or anything,” Matthew says quickly, taking a step closer. “Not that I really can. My coaches tell us when to get on and off. I was just… watching. Figure skating’s kind of cool. A lot like hockey, I mean, but I still don’t know anything about it.”

“I can tell,” You mutter under your breath.

He laughs, and it catches you off guard—low, easy, and a little self-deprecating. “Fair enough. I’ll let you get back to it. Just wanted to say hi, I guess. I haven’t seen you here before.”

It’s extending an olive branch on his part, leaving it up to you to introduce yourself or not. You debate skating away again, but he’s still smiling, eyes hopeful, and you don’t have it in your heart to do anything cruel.

“It’s my first lesson here,” You admit. “I’ll be coming here a lot more, now.” You finally give your name, offering your gloved hand for him to shake with your own sheepish smile. His hand dwarfs yours easily, and despite the fact he’s also wearing gloves you can still feel the heat from his skin seeping into yours.

Matthew looks as if he’s won the lottery. “I’ll see you, yeah?” You nod, unsure what to make of him as he makes his way back to his teammates. You gather your phone and coat from the bench, sparing one last glance his way again who is now standing with his teammates, but he’s not laughing along with them. He’s watching you.

You force yourself to ignore it, swiftly turning back around and stepping off the ice. But there’s something about the way his gaze lingers, like this wasn’t just a one-off conversation to him. Like maybe he’ll be back for more.

You don’t run into Matthew again for a week, and you definitely weren’t looking for a glimpse of him each time you had a lesson. You definitely didn’t take to Google in-between spare moments, searching him up on the Toronto Maple Leafs’ roster.

And you definitely, one-hundred percent did not come to the rink on a random Tuesday morning when you didn’t even have a lesson to skate on your own, just for the opportunity to run into him again.

Really, you don’t even know why. You’ve messed around with hockey players when you were younger, sure, because it was definitely convenient, but you never saw it as serious. You’re not sure why subconsciously, you think this one is different.

The cold air bites at your cheeks as you step onto the ice, smooth and untouched, a blank canvas. You take a deep breath, your warm exhale visible in the chill, and launch into your warm-up. While not nearly as intense as it used to be, you still like to keep up most of your skills—particularly, your spins.

Unlike a lot of skaters, you always hated jumps. You always loved spinning more, any and all types, and used those in your programs while jumps were always included at the bare minimum. You’ve just always hated chucking yourself into the air, never quite trusting your body to land on a singular toepick without fault. It’s one of the reasons you quit competitive skating after so many years.

The rink is nearly empty, though—just you and two others. You only plan on skating for an hour or two, even though freestyle sessions can last much longer.

You’re midway through alternating backwards power pulls - on one foot, skating left to right in half-swizzle shapes - when you notice him.

He’s sitting on top of the bench on the far side of the rink, wearing a backward cap and a hoodie that’s definitely not designed for the cold. His skates dangle off the edge of the bench as if he’s not quite committed to stepping onto the ice yet. His hair sticks out in every direction, the messy, effortless kind that probably takes zero effort but makes him look infuriatingly good.

It’s Matthew, you recognize without a doubt. Your heart jumps out of your chest, and you try to play it cool like he hasn’t probably already noticed he’s been spotted. You try to ignore him, moving onto your spins, but there’s a prickle of awareness every time you pass his side of the rink. He’s not just watching—he’s studying.

Randomly, you decide to mess with him. There’s a spin you love where you have to contort your body in an oddly flexible way, and you’ve noticed more than once how people will always stop in their tracks to watch. It forms the shape of a donut, hence the name ‘donut spin.’

You skate to the middle, the designated area for spins, decision quickly made. You have to hide the smile threatening to spread across your face at the thought of what look would be on his. Attracted, or impressed? Maybe both?

Taking a deep breath, you tighten your arms, engage your core, and take a strong step forward. Dipping slightly, you bend your knees just enough to gather momentum, shifting your weight to your left leg, having your right leg extend behind you in a straight line. Your arms sweep in, crossing over your chest, as you begin to rotate. Your vision blurs at the edges, moving too fast to make out even a shape. You feel the pull of centrifugal force, letting the spin tighten and quicken as with practiced motion, you reach down toward your left ankle, your fingers brushing the fabric of your leggings as your body folds. Your head dips low, and your extended leg arcs upward behind you, a perfect curve in the air. The donut shape then forms easily, your body compressed into a spinning circle. Your thighs burn but you welcome it, knowing it means you’ve locked in the position. Your blade scratches against the ice as you count your rotations, getting about five in before your body really starts to protest.

Quickly beginning to tire, you let the spin slow as you begin to rise. Uncurling like a ribbon unwinding, you let your right leg drop and open your arms, checking out of the spin. Your vision sharpens again, your surroundings coming back into view, and the first thing you do is shoot a quick glance towards where you last saw Matthew.

Just as you expected, his eyes are wide, mouth slightly agape. This time you let the smile come to your face, close-lipped but no less genuine, and watch as his cheeks flush a pretty shade of pink.

Knowing without a doubt that he’ll be the one coming over to you, you skate to a stop near the boards to grab your water bottle. You hear more so than see how he pushes himself up and strides over, his skates clinking against the ice.

“You’re insane,” Matthew says by way of greeting, his words almost breathless.

You grin, knowing exactly what he means. “Excuse me?”

“That spin you just did.” He gestures vaguely towards center ice. “You just completely folded in half. What is that?”

One of your brows lifts, feigning disinterest, though you think he knows you’re amused. “A donut spin. It’s my favorite,”

He leans against the boards, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “A donut spin, huh? So, out of all the moves—jumps, spins, whatever—that’s your go-to?”

You nod, trying to hold back a grin. “Yup. I was never much of a jumper.”

“Can’t say I’ve ever heard that before,” He says with a low chuckle, shaking his head. “I half-expected something dramatic, like a quad jump, or something.”

You can’t help but laugh. “Quad jumps are dramatic—and borderline impossible. I prefer spins that don’t require me to risk my life.”

“Fair enough,” Matthew replies, tilting his head as though he’s reevaluating you. “Obviously, I don’t jump, unless I’m checking somebody. Then I don’t mind coming off my feet a bit.”

You make a show out of looking him up and down, laughing internally as he seems to stand up straighter at your appraising gaze. “Makes sense. You look like you’d be violent out there.”

He takes a step closer, causing you to have to tilt your head back just slightly. He is, unfortunately, much taller than you. “Really?” He asks, voice low. “What gives it away?”

“Um,” You lose your words for a moment, tongue-tied at his sudden proximity. “Everything, honestly. I’ve seen you skate—like you’ve got a grudge against every guy who's not on your team.”

It’s Matthew’s turn to be caught off guard, though it quickly turns to cockiness that has you rolling your eyes. “You’ve seen me skate? How? When?”

“I may or may have not looked you up online.”

“Oh. So not in person?”

“Nope. I don’t watch hockey.”

“You should change that, actually watch one of our games,” He suggests, grinning. You’re starting to suspect he’s someone who always has a smile on his face. “I’ll score a goal for you.”

This time you don’t bother holding back your laugh. “That’s a whole lot of assurance for a sport that’s mostly luck.”

If possible, his grin widens at your doubt. “I’ll make you a deal,” He says, taking another step closer with a casual confidence that’s starting to feel dangerous. “Watch one of our games, and I’ll score a goal just for you. I’ll even call it a donut goal. Maybe the name will pick up.”

You shake your head, astounded by his personality that miraculously is starting to win you over. “A donut goal?”

“Yeah,” He replies, shrugging like it’s the most obvious thing ever. “Because of your spin. It’ll be my inspiration. What do you say?”

There’s a playful glint in his eyes, and you hate how much you’re already considering it. “That sounds ridiculous,” You giggle.

“Just one game! You watch, I score, and if you hate it, you’ll never have to watch hockey again.”

It’s annoyingly tempting, the way he pitches it. And maybe part of you is curious—curious enough to nod before you can talk yourself out of it. “I guess… Just don’t, like, hurt yourself doing something stupid.”

Matthew’s grin turns triumphant, like he’s just won a championship. “Deal. I’ll let you know which game to tune into.” He goes to skate away, but then quickly turns back around before you even get the chance to turn away yourself.

“Uh… Can I get your number?” He blurts. “For the game.”

“Of course,” You smirk, completely aware of his intentions, surprisingly not as frightened as you thought. “For the game.”

You stay on the ice for another hour, though you don’t work on any more spins, and especially not jumps. Instead, you just skate in laps, occasionally switching to a random edge exercise, but mostly gliding. Matthew left the moment he got your number, sending you a stupid donut emoji as his very first message to you.

What you didn’t see is Matthew immediately calling Joe the moment he steps back into the men’s locker room. “Dude, I got her number,”

A scoff can be heard from the other end. “Your skater wife?”

“Yup. I even got her to agree to watch one of our games. I kinda have to put one in the back of the net though?

There’s the sound of something shattering, followed by a curse and then his friend shouting. “You—her—fuck—what?”

He laughs at his friend’s disbelief. “And you thought I couldn’t do it!”

“It was a spiral, actually.” Matthew replies, proud even he remembered the name. He wants to remember every word that comes out of your mouth, made it a goal to do so. He had to wait a week to see you again, constantly searching every corner of the rink whenever he had a moment of alone time, though it’s not like his teammates didn’t know what he was doing.

“Your first conversation with her was asking about a swirly-thingy.” Joe retorts. “Not exactly winning over girls with that one, y’know?”

Joe took the liberty of informing Auston and John, of course, who therefore told the others. He’s still not embarrassed, though.

Not about meeting you.

It does turn out that Matthew is not very good at texting, however. Understandable, because you aren’t either, but his schedule makes it practically impossible. Not that he doesn’t try, but it’s gotten to a point where you’re eagerly awaiting his next message that takes hours to come in, which is strange because it’s not like you’ve even gone on a date with him.

He gets sick of the distance, literally and figuratively, quickly. He first asks to call you at night, when you’re curled up in your bed and he having just gotten back to his apartment from an away game in Ottawa. You reluctantly say yes, not because you don’t want to but because you don’t exactly have a lot to talk to him about when it’s one o’clock in the morning.

Your ringtone is shrill, startling you despite knowing it was coming. You answer immediately, biting your lip when you can hear his breathing audible through the phone.

“Um, Matthew?” You start when he doesn’t say anything. “Are you there?”

“Oh shit, yeah, sorry,” He apologizes, and you can picture the hand running through his hair as he talks. “Would you believe me if I said I was surprised you even picked up?”

You laugh. “No. I don’t answer my phone this late at night for just anyone, you know.”

“Technically it’s early in the morning. Get it? Because it’s—nevermind I’m shutting up now. You picked up just for me?”

“Well, it definitely wasn’t for your jokes,”

“My mom thinks my jokes are hilarious,”

“I think she’s required to say that.”

You and Matthew call pretty often after that, once the ice is broken—pun not intended. Surprisingly, even though you both go to the same rink multiple times a week, neither of you run into each other that often, so calling at night when you’re both free is the solution to that problem. Maybe it’s because your schedules are so different, but you try to fix the new Matthew-shaped hole in your life by following your first ever hockey team on Twitter.

Or X. Or whatever.

You definitely don’t tell him that - his ego is already big enough - but the amount of pictures posted of him keeps you entertained, and very much endears you to the personality you don’t always see, especially around his teammates.

While Matthew isn’t the biggest talker on his team by any means, even he’s surprised by the endless amount of energy he seems to now have. The excitement gets him through the day, his favorite part now being able to go home at night and talk to you.

And finally, after weeks of scheming and talking and definitely falling in love on his end, he has a game in Toronto against a team he’s relatively sure he could probably net one. He texts you the details, and gives you a link to a pirated website you can watch the game on for free.

Hopefully the league doesn’t find out about that one.

He’s so excited, though, and you’re finding it impossible to not match his energy. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t secretly kicking your feet at the thought of him deliberately attempting to score a goal just for you, too. The days before are filled with teasing texts from Matthew, all centered around some mysterious plan involving this so-called ‘donut goal’. Every time you ask him to explain, he evades the question.

“So can you tell me exactly how you’re planning on doing this?” You ask the night before.

“Nope,” He replies smugly. “You’ll just have to watch and find out.”

You snort, leaning back on your couch. “What if you don’t even score?”

“Wow,” He says, feigning offense. “Zero faith in me. That’s harsh, babe.”

“I’m just saying,” You tease, brushing over the ‘babe’ he let slip out. “It’s hockey. You’ve got, like, five guys constantly trying to stop you. Plus the goalie. Odds aren’t exactly in your favor.”

“You’re gonna feel so dumb when I pull it off,” He replies, totally grinning just by the sound of his voice. “Mark my words.”

Despite your best efforts to play it cool, you’re more excited for this game than you’ve ever been for a hockey game in your life, considering you’ve never even watched one before. Your small circle of friends that grew up skating with you don’t even know about your late-night plan; you want to keep Matthew to yourself, almost, keep this new budding relationship small and private, and you think he feels the same.

Before you know it, you’re tuning into the game on a sketchy looking website that Matthew refused to give any extra details on. It works, though, even if it lags every so often, and even shows the commentators on the side as they watch the game, too.

It starts before you know it—tiny players zipping around after an even tinier puck, and trying to locate Matthew on each of his shifts proves to be even more challenging. Every time you manage to spot his number, though, he’s moving with a grace you weren’t expecting, all power and precision as he skates circles around the other team. That isn’t to say he’s indestructible, however, because Matthew takes a shit ton of hits. Every hit leaves you wincing for him, but he gives plenty back in retribution.

He’s captivating to watch, the way he commands attention without even trying. And when he gets the puck, everything seems to shift.

He’s fast—so fast you lose sight of him multiple times as he weaves through defenders. He gets a chance, shoots it, but it goes wide before being collected by the other team, whom you don’t even know the name of. The game goes on like this for the rest of the first and second period, until the third is underway and you still haven’t moved from your spot on the couch, burrowed in a fuzzy blanket, hot chocolate forgotten.

The game is nearly over when it finally happens. A breakaway from the neutral zone, according to the commentators you can barely hear over the blood rushing through your ears, and Matthew again has the puck and breaks away from the defenders, skating with terrifying speed.

The crowd roars as he approaches the goal, and your heart jumps in your chest when you realize this is it. Your eyes are glued to the screen as he circles behind the net in one smooth motion, pulling off a wraparound goal so effortlessly that you don’t even process what’s happened until the puck is in the back of the net.

The volume coming from your laptop fizzles in and out, the arena likely so loud the speakers can barely handle it. You can hear bits and pieces of said-commentators celebrating in shouts, but all you can focus on is Matthew.

Because he’s spinning his hand in a circle—mimicking the shape of a stupid fucking donut—before pointing upwards.

“Oh my god,” You hiss, dropping your face into your hands. “Did he actually just do that?”

You’re mortified, but also—how could you not smile? He skates back to his team on the bench, grinning like he just pulled off the biggest inside joke of his life.

Even though the commentators can’t hear you, their response almost makes you feel they can. “Knies wraps it around, a beaut, and seems to make some circle motion with his hand. A new celly for the forward?”

You’re alone in your apartment, no roommates to worry about hearing you squeal, and the grin on your face impossible to hide. Stunned, mildly embarrassed even if no one else knows that his celebration was for you, and the most surprising thing about it all?

You definitely, without a doubt like Matthew Knies.

Before you can talk yourself out of it, you’re pulling up your text thread with him, your last messages with the player wishing him luck for the game and him saying thanks.

You’re insane, your new text starts with, echoing his words to you after what feels like ages ago. Congrats on the goal though! I’m impressed :) get home safe.

The game is over before you know it, your screen switching from zoomed-in interviews of the players to the commentators instead, going over the stats and noteworthy plays that quickly lose your interest. You keep it on as background noise, though, as you wash and put away your mug used for hot chocolate, wiping down what little mess was left on your counter.

You’re about to close your laptop for the night, too, when the words ‘Knies’ and ‘interview’ appear in the same sentence, immediately capturing your attention.

“It appears that Knies had himself ‘some inspiration’ for tonight’s goal… Check it out here,”

They show his face next, flushed red, drops of sweat trickling down his forehead. He’s in a skin-tight compression shirt that highlights his arms unfairly well, and the grin on his face is unmistakable.

A reporter is seen shoving a microphone into his face, asking about his goal celebration. He leans into it even more, if possible, staring straight into the camera. “I had some inspiration for my celly, yeah,”

“Inspiration from what?” The reporter presses.

“Donuts, actually,” He answers nonchalantly.

“Was that what the circular motion you made was for?”

Matthew chuckles sheepishly, his hand rubbing the back of his neck. He’s about to respond when someone who you assume works for the team taps on his shoulder, cutting the interview short.

“Donuts,” One of the commentators repeats incredulously once the camera is back on them. “Can’t say I’ve heard that one before.”

“Maybe wraparound goals should be called ‘donut goals’, whaddya think?”

You tune out their chatter, picking up your phone to open Twitter. The only accounts you follow are all Leafs’ related, so you don’t know why it comes as a shock to you when you see multiple posts joking about renaming wraparound goals to donut goals, all because Matthew made a little quip about it.

Unbeknownst to all of them that you were his inspiration to begin with—all to prove a point.

Hockey players, you scoff to yourself. Biggest egos you’ll ever find.

It’s not for another two hours later until he finally texts you back. Not that you were mad, or anything, totally understanding that game nights are always busy, but the message from him catches you off guard.

hi, it starts with. im done with all the press and stuff, team meeting’s done too. can i come see you???

Your eyes are heavy, barely able to form a coherent thought, but you don’t hesitate before responding.

Yeah, I’d like that

Another hour goes by, though, and you’re starting to think he forgot or got bribed into going somewhere to celebrate, and you’re about to call it a night and crawl into bed when there’s a sudden knock at your door, startling you.

You’re positive it’s who you think it is as you rush to your door, but you check your peephole anyway. Standing there, shoulders hunched and beanie drawn so far down over his head that it’s practically covering his eyes, is Matthew.

The door almost hits the wall with how fast you open it. You stare at him, now wide-awake, as he smiles at the sight of you, looking you up and down.

“You’re here,” Are the first words you blurt. “You came,”

Matthew’s smile turns soft, taking a small step towards you. “Hi, donut,” He greets. “Sorry I’m late, some fans found me on the way out of the arena…”

Your lips tilt upwards into a smile, amused at his new choice in nickname. “That’s okay,” You say. “You can come in, by the way. Don’t want you freezing.”

He lets out a laugh at that, his breath condensating in the chill. You step to the side and he wastes no time following you in, closing the door politely behind him. Walking back to your couch, you fold up the fuzzy blanket still sprawled across and take a seat, hands bundled in the sleeves of your hoodie. He follows you, but doesn’t take a seat and instead stands awkwardly in front of you, his hands fidgeting slightly as if he’s working up to something.

“Matthew?” You ask, tilting your head at him. “What’s up?”

He bites his lip, looking anywhere but at you until a decision seems to be made, determination settling over his face. He takes a deep breath, crouching down in front of you and placing one of his hands on your knee. Your heart races, breath hitching when his other hand slowly approaches your face, brushing away an errant piece of hair stuck to the side of your cheek.

“I like you. Like, a lot,” Matthew finally blurts. “I know we’ve only known each other for like a month, but when you know, you know. You know? That sounded better in my head, actually. Anyways, I think you’re really cool, and funny, and crazy talented, and not to mention beautiful, and—”

“Matthew—”

“—I think I can make you really happy, if you want, because I really wanna get to know you more—”

“Hey, hey, Matthew, Matty, shut up for just a second, yeah?” You have to grab his face at this point, hands palms cupping his cheeks as you teasingly shake his head. It does the trick, though, and Matthew shuts up with a choked swallow, eyes wide and nervous.

“I didn’t take you for a rambler when I first met you,” You start, one of your thumbs gently brushing his cheek. “You’ve always seemed so confident,”

His face is flushed a brilliant shade of red, and he tries to duck his head despite still being in your hold. However, he’s not complaining. He’d happily let you touch him anywhere you want.

“Only you can bring it out of me, baby,” Matthew’s attempt at flirting is commendable, especially since his voice is all soft, gentle, and vulnerable in the moment. “I think about you all the time. I look forward to calling you every night. And even when I knew you were watching my game, all I could think about is that I wished you were there in person to see it.”

He chuckles then, his free hand coming up to grasp one of yours still holding his face, entangling your fingers together and squeezing before bringing it down to rest in between you. Your foreheads are practically touching, your hand not being held in his moving to cup the back of his neck.

“I’m doing a whole lot of talking here, donut,” He says. “What are you thinking?”

You take a deep breath, shuffling ever so slightly closer. “I’m thinking that I really like you too,” You admit. “You’ve managed to worm your way into my life in only a month and yet I can’t imagine my life without you in it now,”

Matthew is full-on grinning now; you don’t think you’ve ever seen him this happy. “You’re not messing with me? You’re serious?”

“I’ve known for a while now, I think. Just—didn’t know how to say it.” You answer rather bashfully, now your turn for your face to flush red.

For a moment, the two of you are silent. He squeezes your hand every so often, thumb rubbing in gentle circles over the back of yours, and his eyes don’t leave you, not for a single second. You’re so close you can see the tiny wrinkles around his eyes, his slightly chapped lips, his tongue as it comes out to lick them. Your heart races and you can’t come up with any words to cut the tension, but like always, Matthew seems to know just the right thing to say.

“I don’t think I can wait anymore,” He suddenly says, eyes pleading. “Can I kiss you?”

You nod rapidly, sighing out a quick, “Yes,” feeling like you’ll explode if you don’t get the chance to taste him. Expecting something desperate or fast, you’re surprised when he brings his free hand up towards your face, sliding around the back of your neck and tilting your head to the side. He angles you just how he likes, you happy to go along, as he leans in slowly, slowly, slowly…

The first brush of his lips sends a full-body shiver down your spine, a small whimper leaving your lips that Matthew eagerly swallows with a happy sigh of his own. He presses further, his lips pillow-soft and gentle, no desire at all to rush the moment between you.

It’s not fast or frantic. It’s slow, deliberate, and full of everything that’s been building between you two for weeks. You don’t want it to end at all, not after finally having him, but the need to breathe eventually wins over. Matthew follows your lead and rests his forehead against yours, his soft breaths mingling with yours.

It’s intimate, the way your eyes open to look at him, finding the same look mirrored in his own.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been wanting to do that,” He murmurs, not at all ashamed to admit it. You bury your head in his shoulder, hiding the bashfulness on your face as flustered giggles escape from your lips.

Matthew’s arms immediately come to encircle you, holding you so close to his chest you can almost feel his heartbeat. He moves you to sit on the couch, you happily sitting on his lap. “Aw, don’t hide, donut,” He teases, the grin on his face so obvious by the way he’s speaking.

And because, of course, you’re you, without lifting your head up you quickly pinch his arm, laughing at the squeal you get out of him. “They’re calling wraparound goals donut goals, now, did you see?”

Matthew replies with obvious pride. “Duh. Of course I did. It’s a fantastic rename, in my humble opinion,”

“No wonder your ego is so high if your fans are naming goals after you,”

“You love it though, especially after I just gave you the best kiss of your life—”

“Don’t push it, Matthew.”

A/N: I've never written for Matthew before so I hope his personality isn't too unrealistic, I feel like it gives cheesy hallmark rom-com in the best way possible 🫣 please don't forget to reblog & comment :)

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[earlysunshines]

secret rhymes - 39. victorian child (half-written)

a/n: fun fact i have been sick for the past WEEK. my voice has been so so so raspy and dead and i literally sound like im gonna die and or smoked thirty packs of cigs AND im also coughing like a bitch. yeah. ik a bowl of congee HATES to see me coming (I made a whole pot... i finished that pot in less than two days...)

hanni shuffles a bit and groans, stirring weakly beneath the covers. you’re worried that the rag in her forehead might slip off, so you hold it in place as she groggily blinks.

“what…” she nearly croaks. “i’m gonna be… late…”

“han, it’s okay. the rest of your group talked to the managers and called me here. i’ll take care of you for now, okay?”

“hyein?” hanni questions, pulling her blanket closer.

“…close?” you nearly chuckle.

“yunjin is that—“ hanni finally opens her eyes fully, taking in the sight of you—half amused and half worried—staring down at her. her eyes widen slightly. “y-y/n? what are you—“

“you’re burning up. you have a really high fever, one-o-one.” you sigh, looking at her with pity. “everyone was worried sick.”

“one hundred one degrees? how is that even possible—“

“—fahrenheit. you're not dead yet, don't worry.”

her face is already flushed from her fever, but when she fully registers you—the slight scrunch of worry in your brow, your hair cutely clipped behind your ears, and the loose koala graphic t-shirt you have on—her face is even more flushed under the cloth.

she can barely react, too exhausted and feverish to do anything more than stare and breath. she closes her eyes then, defeated, and sinks deeper into the bed.

meanwhile, you sit beside her, adjusting the cool compress on her forehead that slipped off while she had woken up. her skin is burning up, her breathing slow and heavy, and the way she barely stirs at your touch only makes your concern deepen.

the rest of her members had left her in your care, all of them thanking you like you had saved their lives.

("you're the best, seriously." minji says as she hugs you tight, pulling away and patting you on your shoulder. "I wasn't sure what we would've done... this album is really important and especially the song we have to record today."

"it's nothing." you say casually. "i feel bad that hanni can't go and record with you guys, but i feel even worse because she seems pretty unwell."

hyein gives you one last big hug, and then the rest of the group joins in to trap you. you giggle and hug them back, surprised and amused by the gratitude of the situation.

"i'm sorry for calling you so suddenly, you seemed really tired." hyein mumbles.

when she called you at nine in the morning (five minutes after you had to fight to wake up) you were more than just tired. an unknown caller id called you three times, the same amount of times it took you to respond with slight annoyance until you heard the familiar voice and realized it was hyein calling.

"it's fine." you respond, because after figuring out that you had to wake up for hanni, it was more than fine. "I'll take good care of her, thank you for trusting me with her and also with... uh, being in your dorm."

danielle shakes her head, then smiles. "after hearing about hanni talk about you so much and meeting you in person; you're very much welcome in our dorm anytime."

you smile even wider at that comment before ushering everyone out. "okay, go, go. i know how recording's can be, and how the schedules are, so go. i don't want you guys to get in trouble or anything." you urge. before they leave, they make sure to give you all their contact information to give and receive updates.)

you glance at your phone to see no messages from any of them, then back at hanni, watching as her lips part slightly with a soft breath. you sigh, adjusting the blanket so it sits over her shoulder before shifting to sit on the floor beside her bed, your back against the frame. it's quiet, other than the faint hum of the heater, occasional rustle of the sheets, and soft groans as she shifts slightly in her fevered sleep.

every few minutes you reach up to check the cloth, replacing it with a freshly dampened one and alternating between the two cloths four times. you don't mind waiting—watching over her like this, making sure she's okay.

and even though hanni is barely conscious, barely functional to form a thought through her exhaustion, she notices the way you linger and the feeling of the temperature on her forehead changing here and there. she notices every quiet action showing that you care.

—

a little over thirty minutes pass and you switch the rag on hanni's forehead one last time, brushing a few stray strands of hair from her damp skin before standing up. she barely moves, lost in her sleep, but you hesitate for a second before deciding to head out to the kitchen.

"i'll be back, han." you say softly, placing your hand on her shoulder.

the dorm is quiet, save for the occasional hum of the city outside. you roll up your sleeves as you get to the kitchen and unpack your tote bag, taking out each ingredient carefully. you begin chopping ginger, mushrooms, garlic, and pre-cooked chicken—staples for the congee you're making. the sound of the knife against the cutting board fills the space as you work, focused yet extremely mindful of who's resting in the other room.

fifteen more minutes pass and you've already started boiling the rice with your chopped ingredients. you're nearly done as is. suddenly, you hear soft, unsteady footsteps and turn, catching hanni in your sight as she emerges out from the hall.

she's wrapped in a crewneck and blanket draped over her shoulders, her eyes still heavy with exhaustion. she blinks at you, sluggish and dazed, before speaking tiredly,

"y/n, you… why are you... here?"

you immediately lower the heat and rush over to hanni, your hands hovering uncertainly between steadying her shoulders or guiding her back to bed.

she tilts her head slightly, looking at you through half-lidded eyes.

"you didn't answer me." hanni mumbles, giving in and leaning against you to support herself. "how did you even... get here?"

"you're going to pass out, you should've stayed in your room." you sigh, guiding her toward the couch gently. "hyein called me. she said you were sick, and I was worried." you adjust the blanket around her as she settles into the cushions, still looking up at you with something unreadable in her expression. "I came as soon as she called."

"but—"

"no." you interrupt, kneeling in front of her to get her comfy. "I only have a few online things for a class, so don't worry. i basically have a free day, why not spend it on you? just focus on getting better, han."

hanni doesn't argue. she just watches as you stand and return to the kitchen, resuming your work.

the warm scent of whatever it is that you're cooking fills the air while you season further. hanni pulls the blanket tighter around herself, gaze locked onto your back as you move. the way you check on her between stirring the pot, the way your brows knit while adding a few more mushrooms—it's like you were made to do this, to care and be attentive to even the smallest things.

something tugs at hanni's heart.

once the congee is finished, you ladle some into a bowl, letting the steam rise before setting it on the counter to cool. you run to hanni's room to grab the bowl with damp rags and return to her side, setting it on the coffee table as you sit next to her. you place the rag on her head against and she lets out a small sigh at the cool relief, her eyes barely open as she looks at you.

"the food is still hot," you murmur, reaching out instinctively. your hand finds its way to her cheek, brushing against her heated skin as you check her temperature.

hanni leans into your touch. it's barely a movement—soft, fleeting, and she probably isn't aware of it either—but you feel it like a spark. the warmth of her skin lingers against your palm longer than it should and your thumb brushes against her on its own. you swallow, but she doesn't seem to notice, too tired to register the weight of the moment.

you drop your hand after a second and she turns her head slightly on the couch, still watching you through drowsy eyes.

"thank you," she mumbles. "really... you didn't.. have to.. have to do all this."

you shake your head, leaning back slightly and meeting her with the same look she has in her eyes. "it's nothing."

"no, but i mean it," she insists, her voice barely above a whisper. "you took..." she breathes in slowly, sinking deeper into her blanket before continuing, "time out of your day just to come all the way here—to take care of me."

you let out a small laugh, shrugging. "well, you're a friend I care a lot about."

hanni blinks, something unreadable flickering in her tired eyes before she lets out a quiet hum. "i— thank you. I'm glad we're... friends."

you don't know how to respond to that. the way she says it feels like there's something more beneath the surface, but she's also terribly sick so you could just be overthinking everything. before you can dwell on it further, hanni shifts, resting her head against the couch.

"lucky me." she says softly, already halfway to sleep.

you exhale, watching as her breathing starts to even and her blinking get slower. "right," you start, "you have to eat something. i think it should be cooled." you look away from her, breaking the tension filled with something uncertain but not unwelcome.

hanni watches you grab the bowl and sit up, scooping a small bite and blowing on it a few times before holding the spoon towards her. she hesitates before finally parting her lips, eating without a complaint despite being sluggish.

"good?" you ask quietly.

she nods, chewing slowly. "mhm. you're a good cook."

"i know," you tease, earning a weak chuckle from her.

you bring up another spoonful, but before she takes it, you notice a bit of rice stuck at the corner of her lips. without thinking, you reach forward, brushing it away with your thumb.

hanni stills. her eyes flick up to yours, surprised, but she doesn't pull back. neither do you.

"you're being extra nice today," hanni mutters, voice tinged with something unreadable.

you huff a small laugh, reaching for a cup of warm water. "you're sick, hanni. what kind of person would I be if I wasn't?"

she lets you tilt her chin up slightly even when it earns a weird turn in her stomach. she also lets you assist her in sipping the water, wiping away at the drop that rolls down to her chin.

"i, uh, um. there was this, um, time." you start nervously, trying to break the dreadful tension in the air. "my friend back in new york, he... he got sick and his parents were away. i had to take care of him like this. so don't worry about... me taking care of you. it's nothing. i just want you to be okay hanni."

"you're lovely, y/n." hanni sounds and looks drunk with a mix of just completely tired. it's almost amusing how cute she looks.

for the next hour you sit beside her and finish some assignments on your laptop. every so often you glance her way, checking her temperature and switching out the rags. hanni doesn't say much, just watches you everytime she wakes up, eyes flickering between your hands on the keyboard and the quiet concentration on your face.

"i feel a lot better now," she finally says, breaking the silence and halting your typing.

you glance at her and smile. "yeah?"

she hums in confirmation, her eyes fluttering closed as sleep starts to take over.

hanni motions for you to scoot over, and if this were any of your other friends you'd tell them to back off because of their sickness—with hanni, you shift closer. and then she leans on you a bit, the weight of her head pushing against your arm. you don't say anything else, just watch as she drifts off, her features relaxed, her breathing soft and even.

she looks peaceful—so pretty even while she's overheating and feverish.

carefully—without moving your arm—you reach for the rag again, switching it out for a colder one. you do it over and over, making sure she's comfortable. even though the room is quiet, and even though she's asleep; you don't feel alone.

if anything, you feel closer than before. your heart can't decide if it likes the feeling or not.

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[tinfoil-jones]

Gravity Falls: What Did You Do? Ch. 2

Summary: "Sixer... what did you do?"

“Nine Lives Lee”, a rare Stanley Pines who ended up on the other side of the portal instead of his brother, literally falls into “The Better World”, the dimension that many versions of Stanford Pines tend to be jealous of and hold over Lee’s head as ‘proof’ that everyone would have been better off if he’d just done what his brother asked him.

The Ford of this dimension, however, isn’t quite what he seems. And neither is his version of Stanley.

Rating: T+  

Warnings:  Language, violence, medical related gore, and mentions of graphic violence. Cross-Posted on AO3 Here.

Disclaimer: Reverse Portal Stan "Nine Lives Lee" is owned by @urdadsceilingfan  

This version of the Better World AU is owned by @mother-ofthe-universedraws  

First - Next

Ch.2

Dimension-GB1100.

Yes, Lee had heard about it 

It was known more commonly as “The Better World.”

Throughout the decades, Lee had met several versions of his brother, but fewer versions of himself. In most cases, it seemed, Stanford Pines was the one who ended up pushed through the portal, not Stanley Pines.

These meetings with alternate versions of his brother usually didn’t go well. The first ten years of separation in his own dimension had taught Lee that his twin could hold onto a grudge, and the following near-thirty years in the multiverse taught him that it was impossible for his twin to let go of a grudge. 

Almost every version of Ford that he’s met projects their own feelings of frustration, anger, and resentment onto Lee himself, despite only being a variant of their Stanley, and not their original twin. They also conveniently looked past the fact that Lee was pushed through the portal by his Ford, underhandedly muttering under their breath that that must have been Lee’s fault too since he’s the Stanley of his dimension. 

Lee was not above frustration or resentment himself - the first decade or so in particular was difficult as hope that his brother would do something to bring him back was dissipating and Lee had to come to the grim conclusion that he was on his own (not that it was a new concept to him, but nonetheless a painful pill to swallow). But it’s almost been three decades, he isn’t mad at his brother anymore. He just wants to see him again! His real brother, not bitter multiverse-weary versions of him.

“Name.” Dr. McGucket, the Fiddleford of Dimension-GB1100, asked him from across the table, taking Lee out of his thoughts. A sane McGucket this time, and he held a clipboard in hand as he questioned Lee.

Ford stood in the corner, leaning on his cane with his other hand hooked over his elbow. He was pretending to look away, but sneaking glances over at Lee every now and then, in an anxious way, almost like Lee might disappear or become uncooperative if he looks away for too long.

It was strange that Ford would be here for this interview, according to the other versions of Ford who’d come to this dimension “Dr. Pines” wasn’t one to give his dimensional variants the time of day.

“Lee.” He replied dryly

“Full name?” McGucket looked up from his clipboard. 

“Lee.” He repeated, with emphasis. Whether it was the streets on Earth in his home dimension, or the streets amongst the vast multiverse, using your real, full name was dangerous. It was asking for trouble it was asking for-

“You…” Ford spoke up in the corner, his voice still rusty and seeming to sound older than they actually were “you used to go by ‘Stan’.”

-asking for vulnerability. You can’t be vulnerable and survive, you didn’t have that luxury anymore. Lee hasn’t had that luxury since he was seventeen years old.

Lee squinted his eyes slightly at him past his cracked, blocky glasses “Things change.” He replied, feeling the flickering embers of resentment and despair in his gut. He stomped those embers out quickly; this wasn’t his brother, he reminded himself. “I changed.”

Lee hadn’t gone by Stan in a long time, not since he came to the multiverse. Something about Ford - his Ford - telling him to leave with his journal and be as far away as possible from him, and then pushing him through a portal that did just that, something about that had snapped something in Lee all those years ago.

He wouldn’t let himself be defined by that shared suffix ever again, Ford already made it clear he wanted nothing to do with him, he could keep it.

“What’s your Dimension’s name?” Dr. McGucket interrupted the short exchange between the other two men.

“Dimension-CF9L.” Lee replied.

“Your designation is St– Lee-CF9L?” McGucket deduced, quickly correcting himself. At least he respected his preferences, and didn’t deadname him the same way so many versions of Stanford did.

“Ya got it.” Lee nodded half-heartedly.

Each dimension vibrated at their own frequency - and anything from that dimension, be it an object or a person, vibrated at that same frequency. No matter what dimension you were currently in, or how long you’d been away fron your dimension of origin, you were always going to be permanently set to that frequency.

That’s how universes were named, and designations for multiversal vagabonds like him were made. How Lee knew that his dimension was Dimension-CF9L even though he hadn’t stepped foot in it since half of his life ago.

Knowing the frequency of your dimension wasn’t enough to find home, though. Of course it wasn’t, it’s never that easy. You need to know the frequency, and the grid position. And grid positions on a multi-dimensional scale weren’t as simple as latitude and longitude like it was when he was on Earth (his own Earth); there were four ‘major’ coordinates, and two ‘minor’ coordinates. You couldn’t chart a course on a flat map when it came to dimensional travel, you needed an interactive 3D map.

Lee was fairly good at navigating dimensional grid coordinates– much better than he ever did with flat map grids; it was surprising, considering a lifetime ago when he dreamed of sailing the seas, he’d struggled with reading maps, but he had someone who was willing to to navigate those maps and charts. Or, he thought he had someone.

“Are you trying to imprison me?” Lee asked McGucket, while also glancing at Ford, who was the big boss of this institute according to, quite smugly, other Fords. “Ya definitely lookin’ at me like I’m about to jump ship.”

“You’re not a prisoner, Lee.” McGucket replied flatly. Even the rare sane versions of Fiddleford McGucket were anxious, so seeing one so collected was throwing Lee for a bit of a loop when it came to reading this one. “This is a necessary interview and quarantine.”

“Quarantine, huh? I don’t remember being sick, or agreein’ to stay here.”

“I can tell just by looking at it that your portal gun is low on charges. You’ll be needing more portal fluid soon, or you’ll be trapped where you are two jumps from now.” McGucket challenged, and quirked a white eyebrow at him. 

Well damn, engineering genius got him there.

Ford spoke up, his words coming out surprisingly quick “We’d be happy to help you, Stanley, if you’d just-.”

“Lee.” He practically spat his reaffirment that time. He hated how Fords did that. They always disregarded what he said, especially when it came to his preferred name. And none of them ever bothered to-.

“Lee, we’d be happy to help you get the necessary resources for your portal gun.” Ford continued, and Lee blinked in surprise at him.

This was certainly new, most versions of his brother stubbornly refused to call him anything aside from what they wished. This was the first time one had actually listened to him.

Lee would almost find it sentimental if he wasn’t too busy finding it suspicious as Hell.

Ford had paused to see if Lee would respond, and continued to speak when he did not. “If you give us a list of materials we should be able to retrieve them for you, I only ask that you stay in quarantine while we do so.”

“Mhmm…” Lee replied, narrowing his eyes at this alternate version of his twin. 

Most versions of Ford were on the thinner side compared to him, but it’d always been that way with Lee and his original twin so that wasn’t surprising, but this Ford was skinny. That was why in the dark he’d initially assumed he was McGucket.

Compared to all of these dimension hopping variants Lee had met, with their straight backed posture and confidence that bordered on smugness, this Ford looked very much frail. He even seemed a bit older with how little he weighed, with the way he was slightly hunched over his cane, and the eyebags that had eyebags. 

This Ford was… hollow. It was hard to explain, but it was unsettling to Lee, and woke up something protective within him, something he hadn’t felt since he was a teenager and felt the need to protect his own brother. Is this what his real brother was like now, back in their original dimension? Older than his years, faded and weary?

“If you’ll wait here, we’ll get the necessary preparations.” McGucket picked up where his co worker left off, he also pulled a piece of paper and a pen from his clipboard and slid both items over to the other side of the interrogation table with Lee. “Write down the components of your portal fluid. We’ll be back with you shortly, if you’ll just stay patient.”

Lee kept his arms crossed and didn’t say anything, he just nodded quickly. They’d already confiscated most of his gear, including his weapons, so he wasn’t in a position to negotiate.

McGucket nodded back and walked towards the door, using his lanyard keycard on a scanner to open it. The door - which was made of some kind of interactive, projected hardlight, turned from red to blue, and McGucket was able to walk right through it.

Ford lingered for a bit before following, noticeably slower than his fellow researcher. Lee didn’t need to turn his head to know that he kept glancing at him, though.

“Take a picture, Stanford.” Lee said flatly, boredly. “It’ll last longer.” Ford didn’t respond, he only somehow deflated even further, before scanning his own lanyard ID and leaving the interrogation room.

---

“‘Back with you shortly’- my ass.” Lee muttered to himself out loud. After having been waiting there for at least two hours. Hard to tell when they swiped his watch.

He weighed his options. He could just keep waiting here, but the antsiness and anxiety was only making him more paranoid the longer he waited.

He knew that this was par for the course - other Fords had explained that they had been held here too, to avoid contact with their alternative self. It was a known phenomenom that if you make physical contact with an parallel version of yourself while either of you is in your home dimension, that dimension will collapse.

Rick had confirmed this to him, and explained further that he and his many alternate selves didn’t have to worry about this phenomenon because of an after effect of their own portal fluid ‘distorted’ enough of their dimensional frequency to prevent a ‘crash-out’. Stan’s portal gun utilized a different fluid though, and it didn’t have the same effect on him.

The way Lee came so close to collapsing that swamp dimension when he almost got into a physical altercation with the frog version of himself, ‘Mr. Ponds’...

But, he’d heard about this dimension enough times to know its vague history. The Ford of this dimension had sent his twin brother away with his first journal decades ago. That was the kicker of this dimension, and what every Ford variant who had been here liked to hold over Lee’s head like a noose.

Everything would have been better for everyone if you would have just listened to me, Stanley. 

I'm giving you a chance to do the first worthwhile thing in your life and you won't even listen!

They never brought up Lee’s parallel self from this dimension, but knowing Ford they either didn’t ask because they assumed he was fine (they always assumed that about their own twin, after all), or he just wasn’t in Ford’s life at all and they never saw him.

Gambling man Lee was, he was betting on the latter. Ford didn’t have his twin in his life and he was going to use that to his advantage. He didn’t have a dimensional collapse to worry about.

Thankfully, when the nerds and their goons had confiscated his gear, they did leave him with something they’d assumed wasn’t important.

He had a thin gold chain around his neck and on that chain was a very old-fashioned looking key, looking like it was made of iron and thick enough to think it was just a decoration or, if being generous, it could open a lock the size of a softball.

But looks were often deceiving.

Guards did their arounds around this cell, doing a rough square around this wing of the building every fifteen minutes. Lee couldn’t see them, because the hard light door was opaque, but it wasn’t an effective barrier to sound, and judging from the footstep pattern Lee had been mentally keeping track of, there were only ever two guards together at one time. Two guards he could deal with, but if he got his timing just right, he could avoid the guards entirely.

He heard the steps fade in, then come close to the door, and then begin fading, and he made his move.

Taking the key off of his chain, Lee walked up to the hardlight door and pressed the large, pronged key to the scanner box.

There was a confirmation sound from the box, and the door turned from red to blue, allowing Lee to slip out finally.

The key may have looked like it was archaic and medieval, but it was one of Lee’s most sophisticated pieces of tech; The Space President’s Key. It opened any advanced sci-fi lock, the only drawback being that it didn’t work on traditional locks. He’d won it in a poker game a few years back in Dimension-HG42; it turned out that his opponent, Something Beeblebrox something, was the president of that galaxy.

Slipping the key back onto his chain, Lee followed the direction that the guards were going, matching his steps to their cadence to avoid detection. If they were guarding him, it stood to reason they also guarding his gear.

Rounding a corner, he found a door labelled ‘Misc Storage’. His Space Presidents Key couldn’t help him here, because it was a traditional lock that needed a traditional key. But this was no problem for Lee either.

Pushing the hand on his prosthetic all of the way back, he opened up the compartment space where he kept many small tools; these were mostly to maintain his prosthetic, but also his weapons, and even a small repair kit for his glasses frame (can’t do anything about the crack down the left lens, though).

A pick and a small screwdriver were all he needed to get through the locked door, which he silently closed behind himself.

The walls were lined with built-in drawers, reminding him of a post office. He could at least narrow down his search to the ones that would be big enough to hold his gear.

Many of these were civered in dust, so confiscation wasn’t something they did too often. There was one large cubby drawer however, that looked as though someone had tried to brush the dust off of it, but half-assed it leaving large, obvious hand trails.

Bingo.

Lee had echoic memory. He could remember things he heard, he could take the things he heard and make realistic and accurate deductions based on what he heard, but that didn’t mean his hearing was sensitive. Lee was still an old man who had to get one of his eardrums replaced with a sci-fi implant last year to avoid having to use a hearing aid. 

But it was still strange when he didn’t hear the door open, and the footsteps that approached him so silently.

“Hello?”

Lee whipped around in an instant and pointed his blaster at the offending source of the words; only to almost drop it at what he was seeing.

A kid, no older than fifteen, yelped in surprise at the sight of a gun pointed in his direction and stumbled backwards with his hands up. Or, shoulders up, really. He was on elbow crutches.

How had he managed to move so silently with those?

“Don’t shoot! Don’t shoot!” The kid stammered with a strong, familiar, Jersey accent. Lee instantly put his blaster back into it’s proper belt pouch.

“I won’t- yeesh, kid, ya trying to give me a heart attack or somethin’?” Lee chided, and the kid had a still worried, but sheepish look on his face.

A kid being there wasn’t the thing that was making Lee feel like his brain had tilted. It was how he looked. With his braces, top heavy build, glasses, acne, and greaser-style slicked back hair, it was like looking into a window to the past.

“I know I’m not supposed to meet you guys but I just had to at least once!” The kid prattled, and even his voice was like hearing himself from that age. 

Lee felt his heart both twist and flutter - the Ford of this dimension must have had a kid. It was reasonable the kid could look like him, since they were identical twins. 

Did his own brother, back in their dimension, become a father in Lee’s absense? Like their older brother Sherman? God, it’d been so long Sherman’s son could be a father himself now too.

“You should get back to your dad, kiddo.” Lee told him, trying to keep his voice soft. It wasn’t a tone he was used to using, he wasn’t usually around kids.

“My pa? He’s…” The kid shifted uncomfortably “Well, you’re one of the other versions of Sixer, right? You’re him from a different world? I didn’t think ol’ poindexter could look this cool!”

Did he really think that Lee was - well, he supposed that looking past his prosthetic arm and the difference in weight, he was still mostly identical to Ford. Even if they were from different dimensions, they were still twins.

…Who called their dad by a nickname like that? Was this not Ford’s kid? Was he another son or even a grandson of Shermies? 

Or… could this even be his own son? As in, the son of his alternate of this dimension? Was his parallel self still close enough with Ford to let his kid stay with him?

“That’s a really cool arm!” The kid continued, not picking up the confusion or the thoughful look on Lee’s face that he’s sure he was poorly concealing. “Does it shoot out rocket fists or-?”

“STANLEY!” They both bristled as they heard Ford’s deep, rusty voice shouting down the hallway, a distinctive series of clicks from his cane and his soles indicating that he was rushing over.

The man slammed the door opened and his eyes trained onto the two figures in front of him, as if he couldn’t decide who to berate.

“Stanley, get away from him this instant!”

Lee was about to retort that he wasn’t going to or planning on hurting the kid when-

“M’ sorry Sixer… I was just curious, ya know?” The kid answered, just as sheepisj as earlier, as he bunched his shoulders up closer to his head and walked over to Ford, who swifly grabbed at both sides of his arms right under his crutches and pulled him back until he was behind him. And now Ford stood between Lee and the kid, as if shielding him from something.

From Lee?

Lee blinked, eyebrows furled together as he tried to put all of these pieces together, until he asked “Ford, who is that?”

Ford hesitated for a moment, and it looked like the kid behind him was about to answer for him, but a pointed look from the man in front of him shut him up. 

“...This is Stanley, my brother.” He explained, slightly strained.

…Huh? 

“What?” Lee asked out loud, looking between the kid and Ford “There’s no way he’s your twin!”

“He is!” Ford insisted, still shuffling in a way to prevent Lee from getting a closer look at ‘Stanley’ “When we were very young, he was… injured, very gravely. And put into suspended animation. It was only a few short years ago we were able to take him out of it.”

Lee has met alternate versions of himself before.

Both inside and outside of dimensions.

It’s hard to explain what it’s like to meet at alternate - but it does make the ‘frequency crash out’ that Rick was talking about, the thing that made entire dimensions collapse, make sense.

Even though it takes physical contact to initiate the collapse, just being within a certain distance of an alternate caused you to feel a certain way.

Like there’s a static on your skin thay was always there, and you’re only just now starting to feel it because it’s trying to pull you closer to a very similar static that isn’t exactly the same but too similar to ignore.

Lee looked at Stanley, and there wasn’t that crawling, static pull. And even as Ford continued with his explanation, Lee only had one thought.

‘That isn’t me.’

To be continued…

---

NOTES

Dimension-CF9L (RP Stan's dimension). That’s because this version of reverse portal Stan “Nine Lives Lee” is (or at least heavily inspired by) the Reverse!Portal AU from tumblr user urdadsceilingfan or Ceiling Fan “Ceil”, with 9L referring to Lee’s nickname, he learned his dimensions name and that’s at least part of how he got his infamous nickname. At least in this fanfic.

Lee’s description how the position if a dimension is measured by four major coordinates and two minor coordinates, it’s a reference to how the Milky Way Galaxy allegedly has four major spiral arms, and two less spiral arms or ‘spurs’. This is basically just me BSing how a persons Dimensions name could be known but they still wouldn’t be able to find it.

When Lee internally narrates that he was very skilled with the interactive 3D maps needed for dimensional travel, when he’d struggled with flat paper maps when he was younger, this is a hint towards Lee having a different way of learning and different learning needs. A lot of people have theorized that Stan might have had some sort of learning problem, like ADHD or dyslexia. Lee here is hinting that he struggles reading and learning things that are second dimensional and non-interactive, while having a talent for understanding things when presented to him in a three dimensional format. He was always smart, he just had different learning needs that the education system did not or could not accommodate for. This is also another parallel with Bill Cipher, who was a two dimensional being in the second dimension, but did not fit in because he could see into and interact with the third.

“Faded and weary” is a term pulled from the song “Into the Nothing” by Breaking Benjamin.

Mr. Ponds is a one-off character from Amphibia who is a clear nod to / reference to Grunkle Stan.

The Space Presidents Key is a direct parallel to The Presidents Key from canon.

President Beeblebrox refers to Zaphod Beeblebrox from Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy. The dimension, HG42, gets the letters of its name from “Hitchhikers Guide”, while 42 is “the Answer to the Ultimate Question of Life, The Universe, and Everything” in the story.

[justiceiscalling]

i’m gonna try to keep this one short but, genuinely, why is damian going to hell never mentioned? like jason’s death is mentioned 24/7 and damian’s death is basically never even referenced (to my knowledge). did his death get retconned?

and even then—why don’t fics mention it? damian went to hell! literal hell! that’s prime angst material right there. i don’t understand people sometimes. everyone ignores the important aspects of jason and damian’s deaths, they only take note that they died. like the fic ideas i have for this is limitless.

catholic jason todd dies and sees nothing. no heaven, no hell. no jesus, no devil. he comes back brain damaged, then fucked up in the head, and when he finally gets his feet underneath him, he has a crisis of faith. then damian wayne fucking does, comes back a year later (double it and give it to the next ts). bonding ensues.

“You trashed it.” Tim notes, looking down at the shirt that’s covered with paint, grime, and the distinct scent of the sewer.

Duke looks over at the shirt and scrunches his nose, glancing between it and Damian. “Just throw it in his closet. Maybe he won’t notice.”

Tim gives Duke a look. “It reeks of the sewer. Dicks not that messy.”

Damian frowns at the shirt. His trip through Gothams sewers hadn’t been intentional, it was a detour he had to make when an assassin cornered him. Unfortunately, at the time he was wearing Dicks blue ‘Nightwing’ shirt (yes he has his own merch. Yes it is because he is full of himself).

A low whistle draws Damian’s attention away from the shirt. He looks up and meets Jason’s eyes. His hair has grown out since Damian last saw him two weeks ago. If he refused to go to the barber then he should at least let Alfred cut it, do the entire world a favor. “Oh, Dicks going to kill you.”

“I hope not,” Damian says absentmindedly, putting the shirt down. Lest he start smelling like the sewer again. It took four hours to get the scent out of his hair, an additional two to get it off his body. “I’m not dressed properly.”

It’s meant to be a joke. Him and Jon aren’t exactly ‘working on them’ but he has been a test dummy for a few. Damian came to realize Jon laughed at everything, no matter if it was funny or not. The trio in front of him laugh as if it’s funny—Damian is about to dedicate an entire thirty seconds to basking in glory at the victory of making three out of four of his brothers laugh—but it’s when Tim speaks that Damian realizes it was interpreted wrong.

"What, you too cool to die in a hoodie and sweats?" He gestures to Damians outfit, a Gotham Academy hoodie paired with its matching Gotham Academy sweats. Underneath the black hoodie, is a black long sleeve shirt that had the Gotham Academy symbol on the sleeve.

Duke straightens up to get his own joke out. "Obviously.” He says with complete seriousness. “He has to die wearing Prada. Keep up, Tim.” He looks over at Jason, “Get a loud of this guy.”

Jason snorts in response. “Gotta die in style. Dying in uniform is so outdated.” That earns a loud laugh from Duke, the only person who has yet to tire of Jason’s ‘I died’ jokes.

“Imbeciles.” Damian rolls his eyes, his tanned cheeks were probably coated in pink dye to embarrassment. He would never imply he had to die in a certain outfit if it wasn’t half-true. “That is not what I meant.”

“Please do explain, O-Wise one.”

Damian clicks his tongue at Dukes nickname but does as asked. “When I died before,” He doesn’t miss the way Tim and Jason stiffen at the mention. Duke just kind of pauses. “It was hot. You cannot exactly ditch clothes in hell.”

He’s met with silence. Well, he didn’t expect to be met with laughs.

Jokes aren’t funny after you explain the joke. Damian busies himself with folding the shirt he had previously let go of, the one that smelled of the sewer. “You…” Tim pauses, tilts his head, then continues. “What?”

“You broke Tim.” Duke comments, though he doesn’t seem fully there either.

“I don’t understand.” Damian furrows his brows look from Duke to Tim. Finally, he decides to look over at Jason.

Jason doesn’t seem tense, the only sign he was was the hand he had clenched together in a fist, which he quickly got rid of. In reality, it’s his face that gives him away. Jason’s always been emotional, you could read his emotions far too easy off his face if you were trained to do so. It’s a good thing he wears a helmet. “Hell. You went to hell.”

“Yes.” Damian says, because, was it ever a secret? Did he forget to mention that? He didn’t exactly have to write a mission report on his death. “I assume you did not.” His voice is stiff. Hell isn’t his favorite topic.

“No. I didn’t.” Jason confirms.

“How was Heaven?” His tone is slightly bitter, he can’t help it. Even though he knows Jason was good pre-death. Didnt lay a finger on a soul, and when he did, they were deserving of it and walked away breathing just fine.

“Wouldn’t know.” Jason shrugs. “Wasn’t important enough to get either.” He explains.

and yk bonding brother stuff. the potential is just sitting there untouched. like if someone doesn’t use it ill tweak out. feel free to rec fics, im clearly in need. only crossover fics id enjoy are marvel/mcu and criminal minds.

use this for an idea if you want, give credit obv.

edit: i've been informed that jason, in some iterations, did go to heaven but just doesn't remember it. so...even better ngl.

crisis of faith, thinking there's no heaven and hell, then boom bro finds out he actually did go to heaven. also the little writing bit i did was made in like twenty minutes at like 3 am, so sorry for it being shit. if i do ever get a great incredible idea for a fic on that, ill let yall know.

[ladywaffles]

A little ditty about the first time Maverick preened Ice’s wings for him… thanks for letting me play in your sandbox! :)

It happens during Ice’s molt, the year they decide to call a spade and spade and stopped leaving before dawn. They send their second class back out to sea three days before Ice molts. Maverick has been an instructor for almost a year, but this is Ice’s first molt as an instructor.

He’s not unused to flying, but it’s been a while since he’s put this many hours in the sky, pulling the maneuvers that Top Gun teaches. He wakes up at three in the morning with an itch in his wings that makes him want to crawl out of his own skin.

It’s hell.

Ice trudges to the bathroom and closes the door before he flicks the light on, careful to make sure that it doesn’t bleed out through the doorway and wake Maverick up. If one of them has to be awake and miserable at oh-dark-thirty in the morning, there’s no sense in the other one suffering when they’re in between cohorts.

He gets a look at his wings in the mirror, and it’s rough. He hasn’t looked this bad since he was nineteen and putting himself through the rigor of daily PT in Annapolis. Sighing, he stretches a wing out and starts plucking at the dead feathers, massaging them out until they fall to the floor. It’s a mind-numbing task, especially in the middle of the night when he could be in bed, pressed against the warm line of Maverick’s body next to his, but he knows well enough that he won’t be able to fall asleep until he’s worked most of the way through his wings.

He’s just about to reach for the awkward part by his shoulder when the bathroom door swings open.

Maverick looks about as tired as Ice feels. His hair is rumpled, sticking straight up on one side of his head, and he blinks in the harsh light from the bathroom vanity like a drunk trying to focus on walking in a straight line.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Maverick squints at him.

“Couldn’t sleep,” Ice says.

“Why didn’t you wake me up?” Maverick pouts.

Ice stares at him blankly. It’s too goddamn early (late?) for him to figure out what Maverick wants from him.

“It’s the middle of the night, Mav, you should be asleep,” he says.

“We should be asleep,” Maverick replies and drags him out of the bathroom with a steel grip on his wrist. He makes it all the way to the edge of the bed, pushes down on Ice’s shoulders until he’s sitting on the ground, then sits on the mattress with Ice between his legs.

“Maverick, I can take care of this, really, go back to sleep,” Ice tells him.

“Will you just shut up already and let me get on with it so we can both go back to bed,” Maverick grumbles.

Ice does as he’s told and shuts up. Maverick’s already irritable enough, and Ice doesn’t want to piss him off more.

Mav is faster than he is at working the dead feathers free. It helps that he’s got a better vantage point and can actually reach all of Ice’s wing without contorting his arms into twisted poses, but Maverick really is better at preening than Ice is. It feels nice, to have Mav’s nimble fingers running through his feathers. It’s a good feeling on a normal day, when they’re cleaning up after a day of blasting the kids out of the sky, but when he’s molting and every feather out of place is that much more annoying? Ice would bottle the sensation if he could.

He doesn’t realize how deep he’s out of it until his cheek smacks into Mav’s thigh. Ice jerks up, his wings puffing out as he snaps awake.

“You undid it all,” Maverick moans. “Will you just calm down and let me work?” He pushes in between Ice’s shoulder blades until Ice relaxes, then threads his fingers through Ice’s almost-too-long hair and guides it back to rest on his leg.

“No, I want to stay awake,” Ice protests. “You’re awake too, I woke you up—”

“Kazansky, I would not be here if I didn’t want to be,” Maverick says.

“But—”

“Let me take care of you, Ice.”

Ice wants to twist around and look at him, but Maverick curls his own wings around them both, cocooning them away from the rest of the world. It’s hard to fight the lure of comfort then, so Ice lets himself melt into Maverick as he works through the molting feathers.

He falls asleep at some point, and it’s nearly dawn by the time that Mav tugs him into bed properly and drags them both under the covers. Ice drapes himself over Maverick, their chests pressed together, until Maverick winds his arms around Ice’s body and holds him close.

“Thank you, love you,” Ice mumbles, straight into Maverick’s skin.

“Tell me again when you’re awake, hotshot,” Maverick says.

///

The sunshine wakes him up properly. It’s mid-morning, and Maverick is already awake, scratching his fingers along the base of Ice’s wings.

“Good morning, grumpy,” Maverick teases.

“Don’t stop,” Ice whines, tucking his head under Mav’s chin. He feels Maverick’s laugh in his chest, but Maverick does as Ice asks and runs his hands over Ice’s back.

“You could’ve woken me up,” Ice says.

“Funny, I think I said the same thing to you last night.”

Ice lifts his chin enough to look at Maverick. “I didn’t want to bother you,” he says.

“Am I sleeping in your bed?”

“Mav—”

“It’s a yes or no question. Am I sleeping in your bed?”

“Yes.”

“How long have I been doing that?”

“Four months, give or take.”

“In the past four months, have I ever given you the idea that I don’t want to be here?”

“No.”

“Logic and clear thinking would indicate then that I want you to bother me by walking me up when you’re uncomfortable, wouldn’t it? Because it wouldn’t be a bother.” Maverick cups his cheek. “C’mon, Kazansky. I know you’re Mister Ice-Cold-No-Mistakes, but I think you’ve got room for me. I want to be here. Let me be here for you.”

“Thank you,” Ice says. He doesn’t know what else to say. “It’s… been a while since someone did that for me. I usually just ride it out myself.”

“Two fuckin’ years since we met, and you never thought to ask for my help?” Maverick grins.

Ice tries to think of a retort, then last night comes back to him in crystal clear picture, like the sky above the Pacific on a cloudless day.

He knows exactly what to say.

“I get it. I know why you want me to wake you up when I’m up and uncomfortable,” Ice says, pushing his weight onto his elbows so he can hold himself above Maverick.

“Yeah? What is it then?” Maverick asks.

“I love you.”

He watches as Maverick passes through a carousel of emotions in a matter of moments.

“You said to tell you again when I was awake,” Ice continues.

“I did say that, didn’t I,” Maverick replies, breathless. “Say it again.”

“I love you.”

“If you keep talking to me like that, we’re not gonna make it out of bed in time for lunch,” Maverick says.

“Promise?”

There’s a playful glint in Maverick’s eye, the same one Ice saw the day he asked for a flyby for two.

Ice smiles back. “Love you.”

First post of the new year (even though I started this pic in december shhhh)

and what a surpise, it's more wing!au :) I just like the juxtaposition of admiral Kazansky (2 star here), polished to such perfection even his feathers are gleaming, versus just Ice, casual, rumpled feathers being diligently seen to by his loving partner.

Maverick has trouble sitting still usually, but preening Ice like this gets him to focus like nothing else (except for when he's flying a jet, of course)

[g4rvez-r3id]

I Love You, I’m Sorry

Spencer Reid x Fem! Reader

Synopsis: You left the BAU and your boyfriend, Spencer, after a case took a hefty toll on you. You only left behind a letter, explaining yourself and why you had to leave. Four years later, you find yourself back in DC on a whim. You learn that maybe it wasn’t such a good idea.

Category: Angst

Warnings: NO HAPPY ENDING, mentions of a past case, mentions of trauma, case related things, reader getting kidnapped but only mentioned, reader lowkey being stalker-y, arguing, mentions of 2x15 “Revelations” but it’s brief, takes place in Season 9 but this is with the Season 7 team, angst angst angst

It’d been four years since he last saw you. You’d left the BAU after a particular case took a massive toll on you and you’d decided the best thing to do at the time was leave.

It was a case in your hometown, no less — the team had no leads and all they had to go off were three bodies tattooed with some kind of weird symbol on their bodies. Before joining the BAU, you were in the taskforce and you’d dealt with something similar. The victims had all been women and the symbol was some kind of branding initiation. You never caught the guy.

And when the team finally got a lead, you and Morgan were sent to check the place out. Unfortunately, it ended with Morgan being knocked out cold and you being kidnapped.

It took the team four days to find you. You were tortured, slashes on your body and the amount of mental trauma you endured during that time was disturbing. He managed to gather most of your team’s belongings and present them in blood as if it were proof that they were dead. You were led to believe that your team was dead for four days.

But by the fourth day, they realized that their unsub was someone who worked for the PD and luckily, they cracked it down and found you. You almost believed that they weren’t real, that everyone was a figment of your imagination. It took Spencer approaching you and actually touching you for you to realize that this was real. That your team was still alive.

And the case took a toll on you. Even after you passed your psych evals and came back to the BAU, you were still flinching at anyone touching you. And unfortunately, it just became too much in the end that you left.

The only person you explained yourself to was Spencer. You left behind a letter for him, I know, not great thinking on your part considering that’s how Gideon and his father left him. But you knew if you talked to him face to face, he would’ve talked you into staying. He was your boyfriend, he always had a way with words that no one else did. And you knew he’d try and get you to stay because this was where you belonged. But you felt totally alone. Even though the team was there for you, you still felt alone.

Four years have passed since you left. And as expected, the only person that found you was the BAU’s very own Penelope Garcia. You only allowed her to tell the team that you were okay and that you were safe but not to tell them where you were. For the last four years, you thought about the team every day.

So what exactly pursued you to come back all of a sudden? Call it homesickness, say it was only because you missed everyone dearly and started thinking about them a lot more recently. Or maybe it was because you only missed Spencer. That’s why you were standing outside of his apartment unit, right?

You were outside, staring at the tall building and you had no idea what brought you here but you were here. It was like you woke up and all of a sudden, you were here. You had no idea what brought you here. But you walked out that door and your feet took you here.

Spencer had been invading your mind as of recently. You had no idea why but it probably had to do with the fact that his birthday was recently. His thirty-second birthday. You wondered what he did, you wondered how he spent his birthday. Did he spend it with the team? Did he spend it with his mom? You wondered if showing up was a mistake. Maybe it was.

Spencer, on the other hand, was carrying about his night in his apartment. It had been one of those nights where he couldn’t sleep, so he’d started the day off at 3am. Probably not the smartest idea because he’d be tired by the end of the day, but at least there was coffee.

He’d turned on the coffee machine and got his crossword of the day ready at the kitchen table. He’d decided to bring some light in by walking towards the curtains and opening them. Granted, there wasn’t going to be a lot of light, but it would’ve helped. Plus, something told him to just open the curtains, so he did.

When he opened the curtain, he usually has a good look at the front of his building. Who’s coming, who’s going, what’s going on. And when he looks down, he sees something odd. Something that makes him question if he’s hallucinating. Have the schizophrenic symptoms finally taken over? Because there’s no way he’s seeing you, right here and right now.

And you’re staring right back at him. In the flesh. And you’re not a figment of his imagination, you can’t be. There were times after you left, where he thought about you and that other women he’d passed by were you. But this wasn’t like those other times. This was different.

Spencer was quick to scramble out of his apartment, almost toppling over his own feet as he struggles to get his slippers on and quickly rushes out of his apartment, down the stairs and towards the entrance of the building. Mind racing with questions and wanting answers as opens the door and blinks as he looks around for you. Because now you’ve disappeared.

Spencer looks around. You couldn’t have gotten far. He even opts to call out your name to the gods. There was no way you were figment of his imagination. You couldn’t have been. You were staring back at him. He’d almost forgotten what you looked like. And he doesn’t forget anything.

You’d managed to escape right when you saw him back away from his window and grabbed a taxi and ordered the driver to take you anywhere but here. You looked behind you and saw Spencer was in the middle of the street, wondering where you disappeared off to.

You had to leave. It was the only option you needed to take. You ended up getting a hotel early that morning. You still had no idea what you were doing here in DC. And it didn’t do you any good with Spencer seeing you. You hated to think it but you’d hoped that he thought that maybe you were just a figment of his imagination. You didn’t want him to go and ask Garcia where you were since she was the only person that knew. And you knew she’d give in because she wasn’t that great at keeping secrets.

Since you opted for staying for a few days, you had to be incognito. And that meant avoiding Spencer at all cost. That didn’t help when all the places you used to go to, you introduced him to.

You thought you were safe going to your local coffee shop this morning, but you walked in right when he was getting his order and you were quick to hide behind a very tall, burly man and rush out of the coffee shop.

Unfortunately, to your luck, Spencer saw you. Or at least thought maybe he did. He’d spotted you the minute you hid behind that burly man and then when you practically ran out of the coffee shop.

He definitely wasn’t imagining you now. He’d seen as you ran far away from the shop and called your name, probably looking like a total lunatic as he yelled your name across the street. You were most definitely caught now. Your jig was up. You should’ve expected this to happen.

Penelope 💕: You’re in town?

Sent 12:34pm

Penelope💕: And don’t even try and lie, Spencer blew your cover.

Sent 12:34pm

Penelope💕: Also, he tried bribing me with a croissant to figure out where you are. I can only hold on for so long!

Sent 12:35pm

Penelope managed to spam your cell phone when you got back to the hotel after your harrowing escape. You decided to send a quick reply with a sigh falling from your lips.

You: Please please PLEASE don’t tell him where I am.

Sent 12:37pm

Penelope💕: Okay, fine. But under one condition.

Sent 12:38pm

You: Which is?

Sent 12:38pm

Penelope💕: Come out with us to O’Keefe’s tonight! It’ll be lowkey, everyone on the team will be there! And you get to straighten this whole thing out because even JJ is asking questions now!

Sent 12:39pm

Your biggest thing was that you didn’t want anyone knowing you were here. You don’t even know what sparked you even showing up in the first place. What were you going to tell them if they’d asked why you were here? There were so many questions you wanted to avoid. Because you’d just left without a trace.

You: Oh, Penny. I don’t know… :/

Sent 12:40pm

Penelope💕: Oh, just consider it! It could be fun for you!

Easy for you to say, Penelope. But she had a point. Maybe it could be fun, seeing the team again. Morgan, Rossi, Spencer. Then again, you almost wanted to avoid him because of how you left him. Was he the only thing holding you back from going tonight? Not to mention, did anyone else know exactly how you left him? They could’ve hated you just as much as you knew he hated you. Your phone dings again.

Penelope💕: I know your gears are turning but trust me, everyone really wants to see you again! Emily was literally talking about you the other day. Please! With sugar on top!

Sent 12:43pm

Okay, that made you feel a little bit better. You did miss them. Maybe Penelope would be the one to help you with your decision.

You: Fine, I’ll make an appearance. But only for an hour!

Sent 12:45pm

Penelope💕: YESSSSS 🥳 I’ll send you deets after work! 😊

Sent 12:45pm

Your plan to avoid Spencer backfired on you, oh, so greatly. Maybe you still could avoid him. Maybe he decided not to go to O’Keefe’s once he found out you were gonna be there.

He never liked the bar scene anyways. He hardly drank since what happened with Tobias Hankel. You prayed for the slight chance that he wouldn’t come drinking with the team. And you even hoped Garcia may have been so excited to tell Spencer that you were coming, she’d blurt it out to him and maybe he wouldn’t go. You hoped you were right.

I hate this already, I hate this already, I hate this already. You thought in your head as you walked to O’Keefe’s. It’s been a while since you’ve been in this area. Your mind is built with memories of walking these same streets with Spencer, arm in arm as he rambled about just about anything. Your heart broke in two as you thought about those times, so simple and delicate before they got ruined. By you.

You walked towards the bar and entered the building, scouting out to look for the team until a chippy voice shouted your name. “Y/N!” Your eyes trailed over to the bubbly blonde, “Over here!” She waves her arm over and you walk over pretty slowly as you join them.

“Well, as I live and breathe!” Morgan stands from his seat, welcoming you with a hug. “It’s good to see you.” You muffle into his shirt that it’s good to see him too and by then everyone pretty much follows with a hug and Rossi kisses both of your cheeks in welcoming. Everyone seems happy to see you. Everyone except Spencer, who keeps sipping his drink and looking anywhere but you like you don’t even exist. And he has the right to that. But he’s not gonna ruin this, tonight.

The night consists of everyone asking you how you’ve been and what you’ve been up to. And not that Spencer cares but he overhears as you mention you work at a desk job in California — the place he knows you’ve always wanted to live — and that you recently got a new cat and that you don’t have a boyfriend. Again, not that he cares.

And then he catches onto something you say. About how you were sorry you left the team so abruptly. And Spencer scoffs under his breath as he spoke — “Least you’re explaining yourself in person now, right?”

Spencer met your eyes and everyone sat there awkwardly after the fact. You knew what that was. A diss at how you left him. You knew how he was. He got petty. And when he got petty, he got mean. It didn’t help that he’d been nursing his drink a bit, too.

Garcia had distracted everyone, asking to join her on the dance floor, to which Morgan, JJ, Emily and even you obliged. Spencer had declined, deciding to stay at your table and Rossi and Hotch went over to the bar to get more drinks for everyone.

Spencer’s jaw clenched as he watched you dance with the rest of his team. How can they act like you didn’t just up and leave them three years ago? Like everything was fine again? How could they just sit there and laugh with you when you broke their hearts when you left? He didn’t forget how Garcia cried for weeks, or how frustrated Morgan was when he found out, or how Emily kept turning over to your empty desk to tell you something but forgot you weren’t there and how heartbroken you left him when he read your letter over and over again.

I can’t stay here anymore. I love you. I’m sorry. He could see your handwriting in the back of his mind. The wires in his head crossing as he wrapped his head around the fact that you were here. I can’t stay here anymore. I love you. I’m sorry. He told you that you two were gonna be fine, you were going to get through this together. I can’t stay here. I love you. I’m sorry. But you left. You left and you didn’t turn back. How could you leave him like that? The same way his dad did, the same way Gideon did. I can’t stay here anymore. I love you. I’m sorry.

Finding himself growing frustrated, Spencer decides to leave. He can’t stay here. Not while you’re here, not while the team can act like they’re happy to see you. He’s infuriated. And he needs to go.

He slams a twenty down at the table and lets Hotch and Rossi know he’s leaving. They don’t even attempt to get him to say, exchanging a knowing glance at the fact it was because you were here but he wasn’t going to pay any attention to that. He heads for the door but he doesn’t realize he’s had an audience this whole time.

You were watching him. You couldn’t help it. You hated the way he glared at you. It pained you that you caused this. You were the reason he hated you. So, when you saw him leave, you decided that maybe you needed to talk, one on one without anyone else present.

You excused yourself to everyone, saying you going to get some water and that you’d be right back and exited the building, seeing as Spencer was about eight feet ahead of you and calling his name. “Spencer!”

Spencer scoffs, turning around as you fiddle your hands together, approaching him. You did that when you were nervous. “Can we talk, please?” Spencer turns back around and continues walking. “I don’t think we have anything to talk about.”

“Yes, we do. And you know it.” You say as you catch up to him even if he continues walking away from you. “Spencer, I know you hate the way I left. And trust me, I did, too but you can’t blame me forever.”

“Well, I have,” Spencer turns around and faces you. “You left, or did you forget that? Because I sure as hell didn’t.”

“Spencer—”

“You left. You wrote a letter to me, just like my dad and just like Gideon because you were a coward and couldn’t face me. We could’ve worked it out, we could’ve talked about it, Y/n!”

“I couldn’t talk to you about it!” And now here you were, shouting at him, this was the last thing you wanted when you decided to come here tonight.

“Why not?”

“Because I know you’d talk me out of leaving!” You take a deep breath. “And I didn’t want that. I needed not to be persuaded by you, I needed to think about this. And I couldn’t stay. I couldn’t. And I hated that I did that to you, it haunts me every single day.” Your voice wavered when you said the last sentence. “Not a day went by that I didn’t think about you. You have to know that I’m sorry.” You go to touch him but he’s quick to back away from you.

“Oh, and you’re making amends now?” Spencer questioned. “You’re just acting like what you didn’t matter? Well, it mattered to me, Y/n. You left and you didn’t care!”

“I did.” You argued.

“No, you didn’t. ‘I can’t do this anymore’? ‘I love you, I’m sorry’?” You furrow your brows at this. And all he can think is — how can you not remember the most painful words you’d ever written to him? “You wrote that to me in your letter. Your letter that you left behind to me, along with your badge and gun. You can’t just slam this door closed and pretend like you’re not at fault when you’re completely at fault. You hurt me, in the only way a person could. How could you do that?”

“I know, I know!” You tell him, shutting your eyes as you pull your hair back away from your face. “I shouldn’t have left you like that. But I couldn’t be there anymore. I wasn’t the same girl that you fell in love with. And you deserved better.”

“I deserved better than that.” Spencer retorted and you nod with a sniffle, “Yeah, yeah, you did.” You admit defeat, wiping your nose.

You walk closer to him as he stares at the ground. “And I’m so sorry,” You tell him. He still avoids your eyes, opting for the ground until he feels your hand on his cheek and you force him to meet his eyes. “And I’m telling the truth. I thought about you everyday. And I love you, I could never lie about that. Ever.”

Spencer looks into your eyes and you can’t make what’s in them. Anger? Sadness? Regret? All of the above? “Why did you come back?” The question lingers above your head and you try to come up with a valid reason in your head. But you can’t come with anything. Why did you come back? You could’ve left this alone, you could’ve moved on because that was the way life went. You could go on, forget anything happened. Was it some form of a guilty conscience for leaving him? Was it closure? Did you need to move on? Did you need Spencer to move on before you could? “I don’t know.” You answer.

“That’s not an answer.” Spencer tells you and you back away from with a scoff, “Well, then what do you want to hear, Spencer? I don’t know why I’m here. I just know that I am now.”

“Why? Did you expect to get back together or something? That maybe I’d just forget what happened and leave it behind in the past like nothing did?” It was obvious he couldn’t forget it.

“No, I-I didn’t expect that, at all—!”

“Then, why?”

“I don’t… know.” Maybe you did know why. Maybe you still loved him. But you couldn’t. Not in this way at least.

“You can’t just stumble your way back into my life simply because — what? You’re lonely, all of a sudden? Is that it?”

You’d had enough. This was pointless when all he was doing was arguing with you and making you feel even worse than you already did. You shake your head — “I don’t have to listen to this.”

“Maybe you need to,” He argued. “Y/n, you were cruel to me. And somehow, you were also the best thing that happened to me. I loved you, did you know that? I tried moving on, I tried — but that didn’t even work out.” It makes you wonder why. But it’s not your business. “When I saw you again, all I could think about was how you left. And how much it hurt when you did. And you’re back now and now I’m more confused than ever. I hate you for coming back. But… I… I can’t even wrap my head around this. I can’t… I can’t be around you. I need to go.”

Spencer shakes his head and begins to walk away. You watch as he does so but not before you tell him — “I knew,” You say and he stops in his tracks. “And for the record, I loved you, too.”

Spencer stands still for a moment before he continues walking. And he turns his back on you, just like you did him years ago. There was time where he would’ve spun around and forgave you and held you and kissed you until you needed a breather but that time was long gone. Because now, he couldn’t even stand to be around you. You watched as he walked away from you and you know you deserve that.

You two were on different paths and maybe that’s the way it had to be. You’d book a flight back home when you got back to your hotel tonight. Because he was right, you couldn’t stumble back into his life, begging for forgiveness when you left him the way you did. That was the way life went, you move on.

And you supposed you should start doing that now. Since Spencer was on his way to doing so, already.

[serickswrites]

Hold Back the River

Warnings: captivity, torture, restraints, forced to watch, water boarding, cruel whumper, self sacrifice, defiant whumpee, strangulation, unclear character status

"Caretaker, no matter what happens don't cry. If you cry they will hurt you. I can't let that happen."

Whumpee had said that hours ago when they had struck up a deal with Whumper that would keep Caretaker physically unharmed. Whumper had agreed enthusiastically on the condition that Caretaker not cry or else the bargain was null and void. Caretaker had tried to voice their protest, but Whumpee spoke over them, agreeing. Whumpee didn't want anything to happen to Caretaker.

But as they watched Whumper move from various methods of torture, leaving Whumpee weak and in pain, Caretaker felt they were fighting to hold back the river of tears that was threatening to overwhelm them. But they couldn't cry. Whumpee had asked them not to.

"Now, Whumpee," Whumper drawled as they tipped over the chair they had lashed Whumpee to, "you have done so well. You haven't begged me to stop once."

"You call this torture? I've had so much worse," Whumpee shot back weakly from the ground. Caretaker could see Whumpee was trembling. But they didn't let on that they were suffering. Caretaker knew Whumpee had to be suffering.

Whumper frowned. "I highly doubt that. Needless to say, I'm going to modify our bargain."

"So not only are you a shitty torturer, you can't even your own bargains. How disgraceful," Whumpee said as they glared up at Whumper. But Caretaker knew better. Caretaker knew that Whumpee was now very afraid.

"No. I'm making you a better bargain, Whumpee. I still won't hurt Caretaker. I keep my word. No, I'm going to make you a bargain that benefits you."

"I'm listening," Whumpee said carefully.

"In all my years working on people, I have never seen anyone not break under this next method. I doubt you will be the one to not break, before you get any ideas. You just have to last five minutes. Five whole minutes without begging. If you do that, I'll let both of you go."

"Deal."

Caretaker's heart was pounding. What did Whumper want to do to Whumpee? They opened their mouth to protest, but Whumper spoke again. "I'm going to give you three tries, Whumpee. Three tries to make it to five minutes. If you make it to five, you're free to go."

"Just get it over with, Whumper, I want to go home. I'm sure Caretaker does, too."

Whumper tossed a towel over Whumpee's face and re-angled the chair. Caretaker's mouth went dry as they realized Whumper planned to waterboard Whumpee. There was no way Whumpee would make it to five minutes.

Whumper grabbed a hose and aimed it at Whumpee's face. "Oh, and Whumpee? If you don't make it to five minutes, I'm going to keep you here until your body gives out. So, give it your best shot. I doubt you'll even last two minutes."

And they turned the water on.

Whumpee sputtered and choked as the water blasted their face. Caretaker strained against their own restraints trying to get to Whumpee. "PLEASE! DON'T YOU'RE KILLING THEM!" Caretaker screamed.

"See how they beg for you, Whumpee? Don't worry, I won't count their begging against you. Thirty seconds now, how are you feeling?"

Whumpee choked and coughed. "Stop," they rasped at last.

Whumper grinned as they turned off the water. "One try down. Total failure on your part. You didn't even make it a minute. I'll let you catch your breath."

Caretaker could see Whumpee's chest heaving as they struggled to breathe under the wet towel. "Whumpee, Whumpee. Say something! Please!"

"'m fine, Careta'er," Whumpee mumbled.

"If you have enough breath to speak, we can begin again." Whumper said as they turned the hose back on.

Whumpee lasted two minutes that time. Their whole body was shaking and they were sobbing as the water was turned off. Hearing Whumpee's cries of pain and terror made Caretaker's eyes well up once more. But they couldn't cry. They had to stay strong for Whumpee. Whumpee had bargained for their safety. They couldn't let that be in vain.

"Two minutes, not bad, Whumpee. Not bad." Whumper stared down at Whumpee with a maniacal glint in their eye. "But still not close enough to five. I'm going to enjoy destroying your body over these next few weeks. Maybe I'll still let Caretaker go when your body gives out. Maybe I'll keep them and force them to watch you to decay. Who knows?"

Whumpee made a low moan in their throat as Whumper spoke. The sound broke Caretaker's heart. Whumpee was fighting against impossible odds for their life. Whumper was beyond cruel.

"Ok, Whumpee, final attempt. Make it a good one. Or not," Whumper smirked as they turned the water back on.

Whumpee sputtered and choked, but they didn't speak. Caretaker could see their clenched fists shaking. But as the first minute went by, Whumpee held strong. Then the second minute went by and Whumpee still didn't speak.

After the third minute, Caretaker began to hope. Whumpee could do this. They would both be free. And then they could take care of Whumpee. They owed their life to Whumpee and they would spend the rest of their life repaying Whumpee.

"Four minutes now, Whumpee, you're doing impressively. Honestly, this is the longest I've seen anyone make it. But I doubt you will make it to five."

Whumpee's whole body began to shake at Whumper's words. But still, they didn't cry out. They continued to cough and choke, their breathing growing more and more ragged.

Whumper frowned. "You have twenty seconds to go, Whumpee. Remember not only your freedom, but Caretaker's freedom rides on this. You'll be letting them down any moment now."

Caretaker's heart fluttered in their chest. Hope built until they felt they couldn't contain it anymore. Whumpee was going to do it. They would both be free. Whumper wouldn't kill Whumpee today.

"Five.....four.....three.....two.....one. Impress--"

"For the love of God, please!" Whumpee cried out at last.

Whumper smirked as they turned off the water. "Congratulations, Whumpee. You survived five whole minutes of waterboarding."

Whumpee didn't say anything as they retched and coughed. And though Caretaker knew they should feel elated, Whumper's smirk and strangely happy demeanor had their blood running cold.

Whumper pulled back the towel off Whumpee's face. They knelt close and stared down into Whumpee's terror filled eyes. "Too bad you won't get to tell anyone what it was like." Whumper grabbed by the neck and began to strangle Whumpee.

"STOP! YOU'RE KILLING THEM! YOU SAID YOU WOULD FREE BOTH OF US!" Caretaker screamed as they watched Whumpee struggle weakly beneath Whumper. Whumpee's eyes were wide with fear, their mouth opening and closing as they desperately begged for air.

"I did say I will free both of you. And I will. I just never said if they would be alive when they were freed."

Tags: @mousepaw @jumpywhumpywriter @knightinbatteredarmor @hufflepuffwritingstuff2 @anightmarishwhump

@steh-lar-uh-nuhs @celestialsoyeon @st0rmm @ay5ksal @pedro-pedro-pedro-pedro-pe

@pepeniascat

[veephoenix]

zutto — chapter sixteen | wc: 2.8k | series masterpost | prev. chapter

Chapter summary:  Lia and Noah return to L.A. and Jolly surprises Noah with big news.

Reading time: 10mins.

Tags and trigger warnings:  mostly fluff, mentions of Lia going back to therapy, 2 spankings.

General trigger warnings: this work addresses and depicts issues related to addiction, abuse, & violence, contains explicit sexual content, and explores themes of childhood trauma. Reader discretion is advised. +18

The sky was clear when they landed in Los Angeles. Before leaving the airport, they stopped at a Starbucks in the arrivals area for coffee and a quick bite to make up for the cheap food on the plane. Afterward, they took a cab to Lia’s apartment. 

For the time being, they had decided to stay at Noah’s place since he had his studio there and he was meant to start working asap. Lia was already used to living within those walls so it felt like the right thing for now. 

Noah dropped her off at her apartment to unpack and start a load of laundry, agreeing to pick her up later. In the meantime, he would do the same at home. 

When he walked through the door, Jolly greeted him from the kitchen, pausing what he was doing to give him a brotherly hug and a pat on the back. 

Noah had barely set his luggage down when Emery appeared in the hallway, waving at him. She was wearing baggy sweatpants and one of Jolly’s hoodies, looking very much at home. 

“Hi, Noah.”

“Hi, Em.” He gave her a quick hug. 

“Good flight?” she asked, stepping back and noticing the slight dark circles under his eyes. 

“As good as it gets. I think I’m really jet-lagged, though.”

“I’m making coffee,” Jolly announced, busying himself with the machine. “Want some?”

Noah had just had one about thirty minutes ago, but he replied, “Sure. Thanks.”

He removed his backpack and sneakers, sighing as his feet finally found relief. 

“Where’s Lia?” Emery asked, glancing over her shoulder at Noah as she walked into the kitchen to help Jolly. She retrieved three mugs from one of the cabinets. 

“Dropped her at her place,” he explained. They hadn’t been apart for more than fifteen minutes, and yet he was already missing the warmth and peace she brought him just by being around. “I’m picking her up later. She’ll be happy to see you.”

“Em’s been staying here,” Jolly said, stopping the coffee machine and picking up the kettle. 

Noah raised his eyebrows and looked at Emery, who had now made herself comfortable on the couch, waiting for Jolly to bring the coffee. She gave Noah a gentle smile. 

“Nice. How long are you planning to stay?”

“As long as Jolly doesn’t get tired of me,” she replied.  

Jolly pointed at her while passing a coffee mug to Noah across the kitchen isle. “Which is never happening.” 

Emery laughed, her cheeks turning pink. Their comfort with each other was so obvious that Noah felt suddenly stupidly jealous. He was tempted to check the time on his phone. He’d told Lia he’d pick her up whenever she texted him, which he hoped would be soon—just enough time for her to sort her things and take a shower. Had it only been fifteen minutes? Because it felt like she’d been away from his reach much longer.  

Emery’s laughter blended with a sarcastic snort from the hallway. When Noah looked that way, he saw Jesse strolling in.

“I need to fall in love and get out of this house,” Jesse declared, running a hand through his hair. He nodded at Noah. “Welcome back, man.”

“Hey,” Noah said with a nod. 

“Where’s Miss Gremlin?” 

“At her place. She’ll be here later.”

“Great. Well, I’m heading to the gym, so I’ll catch up with you guys later. Oh, and if you are doing laundry, grab my stuff from the basket, yeah?” 

Noah raised his eyebrows, following him with his gaze. Jesse bent down to grab his sneakers from the shoe rack. “I just got back, and you’re already assigning me chores?”

“Consider it a welcome-home gift,” Jesse grinned over his shoulder, tying his laces. “Hope you enjoyed your holiday.”

“I should’ve made it longer,” Noah replied, but there was no malice in his eyes. He picked up his luggage again as Jesse waved goodbye and left. Noah muttered “unbelievable” as he started towards his bedroom. 

“I promise I’m not giving you guys any extra work,” Emery added from the living room, raising a hand. “I do my own laundry.”

“Beware of Jesse,” Jolly warned, dropping onto the couch beside her with the two mugs of coffee. “He’ll rope you in if you’re not careful.”

An hour and a half later—showered, dressed in clean clothes, with the washing machine running and his room semi-organized—Noah returned to the living room. 

He inadvertently interrupted a tender moment in the kitchen, where Emery and Jolly were exchanging whispers between kisses and affectionate touches. Neither of them seemed fazed when Noah walked in; Emery simply gave Jolly a long kiss on the lips, rose on tiptoes, then turned and disappeared into his bedroom at the end of the hallway.

Noah raised his eyebrows at Jolly as he crossed to the fridge, intent on finding something to eat.

“Dude, I’m so in love,” Jolly blurted out, leaning on the kitchen counter, his eyes frozen on the dark hallway where his girlfriend had just vanished.  

Noah snorted. “I can see that,” he said, pulling open the fridge and grabbing a yogurt.  

“I’m going to marry her.” 

Noah froze, the yogurt halfway out of the fridge. 

He turned slowly. “What?”

Jolly turned to look at him and shrugged. “I’m ready to marry her.”

Noah blinked once. Twice. “But,” he furrowed his brow, closing the fridge and setting the yogurt on the counter. “Wait. Are you serious? You’ve been together for what, a few months? Half a year?”

Jolly crossed his arms, still leaning on the counter. “We’ve known each other for six years. It’s not about the time we’ve been officially dating.”

“Yeah, I get that, but—” Noah blinked again, momentarily lost. He grabbed a spoon from a drawer to buy himself a moment. “I mean… Okay. I do get it, but…” His head was spinning. ���I just got back from the other side of the ocean. I expected dirty socks everywhere and an empty fridge—not a bombshell about you wanting to get married. You never said much about it. Doesn’t it feel sudden?”

“Not to me. Not anymore,” Jolly’s voice softened. “She’s the one, Noah.”

“Yeah, Lia’s the one for me, too, and yet—”

“And yet, what are you waiting for?”

“What?”

Jolly shook his head but steered the conversation back to himself. “These past few weeks have been perfect. We work so well together, man. She doesn’t mind my bad habits—I don’t mind hers. We can argue and talk things through. She makes me laugh like nobody else. And waking up and seeing her there beside me is something I can’t even explain. And the sex… Fuck, the sex is good, man.”

Noah looked at him closely, spoon hovering over the open yogurt. “So, you’re totally serious. You’re really thinking about this.”

Jolly spread the back of his hands on the marble, standing to his full height. “Why would I joke about it? I’m telling you because you’re my best friend, and I can’t keep it to myself anymore. I need your thoughts.”

Noah tilted his head slightly, taking a bite of his yogurt as he considered it. “Okay, so… have you talked to her about it? Like, does she even want to get married?” 

“We’ve talked. She does. She even wants kids someday. I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”

Noah shook his head, smiling despite himself. Could he picture Jolly as a husband? A father? No, but only because they’d been so caught up in the band, in working full time, that none of them had stopped for a second to consider wanting something more. Marriage. A family. It made sense, and honestly, Noah was sure Jolly would be great at both.

“Okay,” Noah said, his smile widening. He was suddenly infected by the same thrill coursing through Jolly. “Then it’s a yes from me. Go for it. When are you planning to propose?”

Jolly’s smile turned sheepish. “I don’t know. Haven’t gotten that far yet. We need to find a place first, a nice condo or a house. But I was thinking we could go check out rings next week, to get an idea about prices and stuff, and while we’re at it, maybe you could take a look too.”

Noah raised a slow, suspicious eyebrow at him. 

Where is he going with this?

“Why would I want to take a look at engagement rings?” 

“For whenever you grow a pair and pop the question to Lia.”

Noah stared at him.     

Jolly pointed a finger at him and gave him a sideways look. “Don’t even dare tell me you’re not going to marry her because man, you’ve been breathing her as if she was your oxygen since you were kids. It’s just because you two were stubborn as fuck to admit you loved each other that you’re not married by now.”

“I—” Noah was exhausted, jet-lagged, hungry, and still reeling from Jolly’s sudden news about wanting to get married. And now, thanks to him, he was imagining Lia in a white dress and a flower crown on her head. 

What the fuck. 

“We haven’t talked about this, Lia and I.”

“Maybe it’s time you do. This is the perfect excuse.”

Noah stared at him for a long moment, torn between exasperation and amusement. As thoughts filled his mind, he realized he didn’t even know if Lia wanted to get married. “I came back expecting dirty clothes everywhere and no food in the fridge,” he muttered, “not life advice and a push toward marriage.”

Jolly laughed. “Well, now you’ve got both. Welcome home, man.”

When evening came, Lia and Emery curled up in the corner of the couch after dinner, talking animatedly, each holding a cup of tea, while the boys finished cleaning up the kitchen. 

Somehow, Lia had mustered the energy to prepare one of the dishes Hana had taught her in Japan, and despite his exhaustion, Noah had offered to do the washing up afterward. Before picking her up, Lia had walked to the nearest supermarket to grab the missing ingredients. The moment she arrived at the boys’ house, she started cooking as if she hadn’t just spent the past twenty-four hours crossing the Pacific Ocean and trying to sleep in a cramped, uncomfortable airplane seat. Where she got the energy from, Noah couldn’t tell. 

After the kitchen was cleaned up, the five of them settled on the couch and put on a new Adrien Brody movie. Jesse made popcorn and ended up eating most of it himself, ignoring Jolly and Noah’s comments about all his efforts at the gym going to waste. 

Half an hour into the movie, Noah had already yawned three times. He was stretched out in the corner of the couch, legs extended on the sectional, with Lia nestled against him, his arm draped over her shoulders. Every now and then, she’d ask Jesse to pass the bowl of popcorn.

“I’m dozing off,” Noah murmured to Lia, rubbing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose. “Shall we go to bed?”

Lia pouted, her eyes wide open. No trace of sleep in her expression, unlike Noah’s.  

“How are you not sleepy?” He asked, frowning as he sat up a bit on the sofa, removing his arm from her shoulders. 

“Hmm…” Lia bit her lip and looked up at him, still nestled at his side with her legs curled under her body. “I may or may not have taken a nap at my place.”

Noah’s eyes widened despite the look of sweet innocence in her face. 

“Without me?” he exclaimed. 

“Dude, shut up,” Jolly told him off without looking away from the screen, where Adrien Brody’s character stood in the pouring rain, his face shadowed under his hat.  

Lia parted her lips to say something in her defense, but she didn’t get the chance. Noah stood up, and towering over her, he scooped her up in his arms, lifting her bridal-style off the couch. 

“Hey!” she protested. “Where are you taking me?”

“Bedroom. To sleep. Good night, guys.”

“Help?” Lia called over Noah’s shoulder, but despite her theatrics, she was smiling, nearly laughing, and she had to admit it felt nice to be carried to the bedroom.

“Sweet dreams, lovebirds!” Jesse said. Next to him, Jolly and Emery laughed, waved their hands and said goodnight.

Once in the bedroom, Noah kicked the door shut behind him. Then, without warning, he threw Lia onto the bed. She landed with a soft thud, her hair fanning out over the gray comforter. 

“That was so romantic,” she deadpanned, stretching before rolling onto her stomach, propping herself up on her elbows. She watched Noah with a raised eyebrow as he pulled off his hoodie and tossed it onto the armchair where Lia liked to curl up and read. 

“Yeah,” he muttered, still giving her that mock-offended look she knew was just an act. “Almost as romantic as my girlfriend taking a nap without me.” 

He walked over to close the curtains, then switched on the lamp on his side of the bed. 

“And dramatic,” she added.  

He stopped and gave her a long look. Two seconds later, his open palm landed on her butt with a sharp slap.

Lia gasped, eyes going wide. 

“Did you just spank me?” 

“Should I do it again for clarification?”

He didn’t wait for an answer. He grinned, and another smack followed, firm but playful. Even through her cotton leggings, a tingling sensation spread through her. She pressed her legs together, unable to look away from him, her cheeks warming. 

He studied her reaction, enjoying this as much as she seemed to. He arched a brow at the realization. “You likethat, don’t you?”

Lia tilted her head to one side, lifting her feet off the bed and lazily crossing her ankles. “Maybe.”

He narrowed his eyes, shaking his head as he reached for one of her wrists, pulling her up. “Come on. Let’s brush our teeth. Then we’re sleeping, because I’m actually dead.”

“Hum,” Lia pouted, but got off the bed and followed him barefoot to the ensuite bathroom. 

The moment they got under the covers, sleep was the last thing on their minds. 

For the next half hour, they talked—about the next day, about Lia’s return to therapy, about how she planned to attend a yoga class beforehand. She had work to catch up on, so she’d spend most of the day at home, while Noah would head to the studio with the guys. 

As they lay tangled up, Lia’s bare foot lazily brushing against his calf, she mentioned she was thinking about taking on more illustration jobs while the band focused on creating new music. It seemed like a good way to stay busy. She could focus on designs for new Bad Omens merch later. 

“That’s a good idea,” Noah murmured, voice thick with exhaustion but still engaged. “You could also think about exhibiting your work.”

“In a gallery?”

“Yeah. Your art is sick. I’ll never get tired of saying it. You should put it out there more. Not just through the band’s merch. I told you before.”

The idea of her illustrations being displayed for people to admire—or worse, to judge—didn’t really sit right with her. 

“I like being behind the work,” she said. “Just making things and putting them out there without having to… explain them. I don’t want to do artist talk or anything.”

Noah turned his head on the pillow to look at her. “Then don’t. You wouldn’t have to. Just exhibit the work and let it speak for itself. People will see what they want to see.”

“Yeah, and what if they see something that isn’t there? I’d want them to see what I see.”

“Art isn’t always about making people see your vision,” Noah said, thoughtful. “It’s about them feeling something. Doesn’t matter what. They don’t have to understand it. And you don’t have to explain it.”

Lia exhaled softly, letting the thought settle in the quiet between them. Maybe.

She rested her head against his shoulder after a while, pensive. Silence stretched between them as she mulled it over. “I don’t know. Maybe someday. I just like things the way they are right now. Making art without the pressure. Just… creating for myself first, you know?”

She paused, waiting for his response.

When she didn’t get one, she lifted her head slightly and looked up.

Noah’s breathing had deepened, his lips slightly parted, the steady rhythm of light snores filling the room.

“Of course you’re asleep,” she muttered. She lifted her head a little, watching him in the dark— the slow rise and fall of his chest, the way his eyelashes fanned against his cheek, the soft exhale of his breath.

Leaning in, she brushed her lips against his in a whisper of a kiss. “I love you,” she murmured before tucking herself back against him, letting sleep finally take her too.

— prev. chapter | chapter seventeen

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[mononijikayu]

don’t they know it's the end of the world (cause you don’t love me anymore) — geto suguru.

You blinked, the knot in your chest tightening as you took in his face, his solemn expression that didn’t match the usual carefree look he wore. Was he already saying goodbye in some way? You shook your head slowly, the smile coming to your lips, though it carried a mixture of sadness and certainty. "Sugu, how could you even think about that?… I could never forget about you."  “It can happen, you know. Life happens.” He smiles in a small timid manner.   Your voice was soft, but there was no doubt in it. "No, you’re wrong. You’re the most important person in my life. How could I forget someone like you?"

GENRE: alternate universe - canon divergence;

WARNING/S: gen, afab! reader, angst, fluff, friendship, friends to lovers, eventual romance, slice of life, conflicted feelings, hurt/comfort, sad ending, physical touch, pet names (sugu, buttercup) mentioned character death, depression, mourning, loneliness, pain, grief, internal conflict, post-hidden inventory at the end, letting go, break up, meeting each other again, depiction of childhood, depiction of romance, depiction of internal conflict, depiction of complicated relationship, depiction of loneliness, mention of grief, depiction of depression, mention of internal conflict, non! sorcerer reader, sorcerer! suguru;

WORD COUNT: 10k words

NOTE: im soon back at university, so im rush writing everything and so im exhausted all the time too. so if im not updating, its because im probably regretting my life decisions. though, in any case, i will still publish as much as i can. im about two/three finished with valentines fics, but im tortured by sukuna because i have a standard with him and i can't escape it. anyway, i wrote this for suguru's birthday. he would have been thirty-five today!!! i hope you enjoy this fic!!! i love you all!!! see you on the sixth!!! <3

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if you want to, tip! <3

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IF YOU COULD DESCRIBE WONDER, IT WOULD BE BEING BY SUGURU’S SIDE. No one else could understand it, you like to think. What the two of you had, it was certainly a language made for two. It was a life that was built for the purpose of being known by you both. And you like to think that he feels the same way too.

You and Suguru had been together since you were kids, bound by an unspoken connection that neither of you ever questioned. Because, there was nothing to question about it. Nor could words even describe it all. It was too unique, too intriguing. And yet, it only belonged to the two of you.

It all started on a warm afternoon at the school playground, where laughter and shrieks filled the air as children ran around in endless games of tag. It was a long while ago, and yet it felt like yesterday to you. You could feel your eyes twitching as you watched from where you stood, permeating with desire and anxiety. 

You had been standing alone for a while, just a bit near the jungle gym, watching all the kids giggle and run about, with the zeal of youth dashing along with them.

As you watched them there with eager eyes, you kept wishing you could join in too, you wished you could run amok with joy too. But that heavy weight of fear blossoms your hesitation. It held you back from a lot of things, including making friends.

Yet, why wouldn’t you feel like this? You were new in town, and you didn’t know these kids. You didn't know any life lived in this place before you had come. Everything was new for you, as much as you were sure it would also be new to them. 

How would they even react to you, knowing you aren’t a familiar face they were already comfortable seeing? How would you interact with them, anyway? It’s not like you could just jump in and smile and just jump in easily? This is a sea and if you plunge so deep, you could drown. And you didn’t want that to happen. Not here, not when you were starting a new life. 

But then, that’s when he found you.

"Why are you just standing here?" a voice asked.

You turned to see a boy with dark hair, a little messy from running around, and warm, curious eyes. He wasn’t out of breath, despite the wild chase of tag that had just ended. His hands were shoved into the pockets of his tiny shorts, and he looked at you like he was trying to figure you out.

"I….I don’t know how to approach them." you muttered, kicking at a loose pebble. "I’m not sure how to come and tell them I want to play too, so I….."

Suguru blinked, then without hesitation, he grinned and reached out a hand to you. "I see…..Then let’s play together! I don’t care if you’re slow. I’ll just run at your speed, if that would make it easier on you."

Your eyes swiftly widened, surprised by the easy kindness in his voice. "Really?"

"Yeah!" he said enthusiastically. "I’ll even let you tag me first."

That was the beginning of everything, that was certain.

During recess, the world belonged to just the two of you. You ran hand in hand across the playground, unbothered by who was faster or slower. You hummed little tunes under your breath, and he giggled at the way you always skipped a step ahead before doubling back to him. You hopped, he ran, and sometimes, in the joy of it all, you tripped over each other’s feet and tumbled into the dirt.

And if one of you scraped a knee? The other sat down beside them without hesitation. If you fell, Suguru would plop down next to you, crossing his arms stubbornly. “I’m not playing if you’re not playing. That’s just how it is!

And you would do the same for him, because what was the fun in anything if he wasn’t right there beside you?

Nothing was ever quite complete without each other.

It wasn’t a good day unless you were together.

Even as you grew older, nothing changed.

The playground turned into quiet walks home, but your hands still found each other without thinking.

"You still hold my hand like we’re kids, Sugu," you teased one afternoon, fingers laced together as you walked home. The sun hung low in the sky, spilling warm golden light over the quiet street. Your shadows stretched long behind you, linked together like a promise.

Suguru glanced down at your hands, his grip tightening just slightly. "Yeah? You don’t like it?"

You smiled, squeezing back. "I never said that, you know!"

His grin was soft but sure, a mirror of the way he had always been with you. "Good. Because you’re still my favorite person."

And really, wasn’t that all that mattered?

══════════════════

IF YOUR BIRTHDAY COULD BE A HOLIDAY, SUGURU WOULD MAKE SURE OF IT. Your birthday has always been special, you know that much. But now more than ever, especially because, for as long as you could remember, Geto Suguru had been by your side for most of it. Now, it was even more special than before. 

The years blurred together in a collage of memories: the laughter, the excitement, the simple moments that felt so big when they were shared with him. There were so many pictures, pictures of the two of you, year after year.

You were always together. His presence in every single one, a steady anchor through the passing time. One that was the only constant throughout the world that keeps on changing.

Whether it was the early mornings, when you both rushed around the house, throwing together last-minute gifts for each other in the midst of the chaos of birthday preparations, or the quiet evenings spent chatting under the stars, those moments were always colored by Suguru’s unique way of making everything feel more important. 

He never treated your birthday like just another day. To him, it was an event, something that deserved to be celebrated with the utmost care. After all, it was the day you were born—the day you were with him. And to Suguru, that meant the world.

He didn’t just show up for your birthday. 

No, he took it as seriously as he would a test. 

He planned it meticulously, down to the smallest detail, as though the day had to be perfect.

"I thought you might like this, buttercup!" he’d say with a grin, always just a little too proud of whatever thoughtful gift he managed to get you, even if you’d both picked it out together the day before. "I’m pretty sure you’ll love it." 

And every time, no matter how simple the gift, the thought behind it always felt like the most meaningful gesture.

On your birthday mornings, you’d wake up to the smell of something delicious.  The pancakes, bacon, whatever it was that he knew you’d love, always cooked with that special touch that made it taste even better. He would rush in, hands full of wrapped presents, bright eyes sparkling like a child eager to see your reaction. 

"You ready?" he’d ask, bouncing on his heels.

You couldn’t help but smile at the sight— Geto Suguru, the one who always had his life together, who always so composed, turned into a ball of excitement for just one day.

Even in the evenings, as the day began to fade and the sky turned dark, you would find yourselves sitting together outside, wrapped in blankets under the stars. He’d listen to you talk about the year that had passed, what had changed, what had stayed the same while you both sat in comfortable silence, the kind only the two of you shared.

"Make a wish, okay?" he’d say when it was time to blow out the candles, the way he’d always said it every year. But there was something about the way he said it then, with that little smile on his face, as if he already knew your wish without needing to hear it.

Suguru didn’t need grand gestures. For him, it was always about the little things, the way he made sure your favorite song was playing when you entered the room, the way he’d insist on carrying your cake even though it was ridiculously heavy, the way he refused to let anyone else help you with the birthday prep, because it was his job to make sure everything was just right for you.

And he didn’t think it was just about the day itself. To Suguru, your birthday wasn’t just a celebration of your life; it was a reminder that you existed, that you were here, and that the world—his world—was just a little bit brighter because you were in it.

Every year, as he gave you your gift, no matter how big or small, you could always see that gleam in his eyes. The beautiful gleam that said. "This is important. This is you, this is us, and I’m going to make sure you feel special, because you are."

For Suguru, your birthday wasn’t just another day in the calendar. It was the day you were born—his day to remind you just how much you meant to him, and to celebrate the fact that, all these years later, you were still by his side. 

And when you looked back at all the memories, all those years of birthdays spent with him, you couldn’t help but smile. They weren’t just your birthdays, they were his to celebrate too.

He celebrated them just as fiercely, just as passionately, as if it were his own day to remember. Because, to Suguru, every birthday spent together was a blessing. And he never took that for granted.

But this year, it felt different.

Not because of the cake or the candles. Not because of the way your friends sang off-key, their voices melding into a perfect disaster. No, this year was different because, when the party had quieted down and the night was winding to a close, Suguru handed you a small, neatly wrapped box.

He was sitting beside you on the couch, his beautiful lilac eyes watching you closely as you held the box in your hands, the soft rustle of paper the only sound between you. You could only look at the beautiful box in front of you for the longest time. He clears his throat.

“Are you really not saying anything?”

You looked at him suspiciously, fingers hesitating over the ribbon. "You didn’t have to get me anything, Sugu."

"I wanted to, buttercup." he said simply, nudging the box closer. "Go on, open it."

So you did.

Inside was a delicate silver bracelet, the light catching on the fine chain, making it shimmer. But what caught your attention was the tiny charm hanging from it—a miniature book, small enough to rest in the center of your palm, its metal etched with tiny details that made it look like it had real pages inside.

You blinked up at him, surprise evident in your expression. "Sugu…"

He looked uncharacteristically shy, rubbing the back of his neck. "It’s nothing fancy, but… I thought it’d be nice. Y’know, for us."

"For us?" you repeated, tracing your fingers over the book charm.

Suguru nodded, watching your reaction closely. "Yeah. Because we always read together. Because of all those afternoons spent sharing a book, arguing over who gets to turn the page first—"

"You always turn the page too fast, you know." you interrupted with a pout.

"And you always get distracted by random things in the margins, buttercup." he shot back, smirking. “We’re both not good at it.”

You huffed. "That’s called appreciating the details, Suguru."

"Sure, sure." he laughed, shaking his head. "Anyway, that’s the first one."

You tilted your head. "First?"

He reached over, taking your wrist gently in his hands as he fastened the bracelet around it, his touch careful, warm. "Every birthday from now on, I’m giving you a charm. One for each year. Something that means something to us."

Your breath caught for a moment.

"You’re serious?" you asked, looking up at him.

Suguru met your gaze, his expression unwavering. "Completely." Then, with a lopsided grin, he added. "You’re stuck with me for a long time, you know."

You couldn’t stop the smile that spread across your face. Everything about you just felt warm, especially when you looked at it, knowing he put a lot of thought on this beautiful present. The bracelet felt light on your wrist, but the promise it carried felt heavier. This was solid, real, unshakable. Just like your relationship with him, ironclad for all your lives.

"Good." you said, squeezing his hand before letting go. "Because I wouldn’t want it any other way."

And back then, with Geto Suguru beside you, his promise wrapped around your wrist and his warmth wrapped around your heart, you believed it.

You really, really did.

══════════════════

ALL BIRTHDAYS ARE HAPPY, WELL THEY SHOULD BE. But this morning, this birthday of yours, it was not something that just truly felt odd. You had tried to put it off, knowing that it wasn’t the right place or time to talk about it. You could feel it, you know you do. Something was wrong with your best friend. 

Geto Suguru had been unusually quiet all day, even when he was trying to be casual and jolly, smiling at you. But you knew there was something going on and you couldn't put your finger on why. The excitement of the day had dulled a little, as the two of you moved through the motions of cake and presents, but something in the air felt different.

It wasn’t until later that afternoon when everything changed.

You had walked him to the train station, like you always did, ever since he moved to another part of the city. Though this time, there was an unspoken weight that drowned between you, a heaviness that neither of you could shake. Geto Suguru, usually so confident and carefree, seemed distant, his usual smile a little more strained.

"I got in." he said, as the train pulled up to the station, his voice barely above a whisper, yet somehow carrying the weight of his words.

You paused, unsure of what he meant at first. "Got in?"

He nodded, his eyes avoiding yours for a moment before meeting your gaze. "To Jujutsu High School. I’m going to Tokyo."

Your heart skipped, the reality of the situation sinking in like ice water. 

He was going to leave you, you were going to be separated. 

Your Suguru was heading to Tokyo to train, on the other side of your world.

For the first time in years, you wouldn’t be by each other’s side every day. The thought was almost impossible to process. Not when you had been together for so long, just being bubbles in each other’s circle. Your lips parted, you wanted to say something. But you didn’t know what. You were too stunned to speak. 

"Wait, you’re leaving? When?" you whispered, your voice suddenly became small. 

“Tomorrow.” He whispered, his tone almost blossoming with shame. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I don’t….I didn’t want to ruin the time and I didn't think it was going to come any time soon, but it just….”

"But… but today’s my birthday, Sugu."

Suguru gave you a sad smile, his hand reaching out to ruffle your hair. "I know. I’m sorry. But it’s not goodbye forever, okay? We’ll keep in touch, I promise."

You nodded, but the lump in your throat made it hard to speak. Suguru was your rock, your constant. The thought of him being so far away, in a completely different city, felt like the world was shifting beneath your feet.

He took a step closer to you, lowering his voice. "I didn’t want to leave without giving you something special." He pulled out a small box from his pocket, holding it out to you. 

You took it from his warm hands, your eyes brimming with questions. When you opened it, a soft gasp escaped your lips. Inside was a new charm for your bracelet—a delicate purple colored buttercup, its petals etched with such fine detail that it looked almost real. It was beautiful. And soulful. Almost glistening as brightly as his eyes.

He smiled gently, a warmth in his eyes as he slipped the charm onto your bracelet. "It’s a buttercup," he said softly. "My nickname for you. So I thought…I thought it would be perfect."

You stared at the charm for a moment, the lump in your throat thickening. "You still call me that…"

Suguru’s smile grew tender. "Always will. And whenever you look at it, I want you to think of me, okay? Think of me often."

You blinked away the tears threatening to spill and smiled back at him. "I will, Sugu. I promise."

He pulled you into a tight hug, holding you close for just a moment longer than usual. "Take care of yourself, alright? And don’t forget—I’m just a train ride away. Osaka is not that far. So when you need me, call me. Okay?"

“Okay.” You squeezed him back, trying to imprint the moment into your memory, trying to hold onto the feeling of him next to you. "I won’t forget. I’ll think of you every day."

Suguru pulled away slowly, his fingers brushing the side of your face. "I know you will."

The train’s loud engine roared to brutish life, and the sound of the wheels on the tracks made your chest tighten even further. You watched Suguru stand by the window.

His beautiful face illuminated by the soft afternoon light as the train slowly started to pull away. Your feet felt rooted to the ground, your mind racing with so many things you wanted to say, things you didn’t know how to say.

But before you could stop yourself, something inside you snapped. You took a step forward, then another, and then you were running, your heart pounding heavily in your chest, your breath coming faster as you pushed yourself harder, faster, chasing the train like you could somehow outrun the fear that gripped your heart.

"Suguru!" you called out, your voice shaking, but loud enough for him to hear.

He turned around in surprise, his eyes wide as he saw you running toward him. The train was moving faster now, but he didn’t hesitate. You could see how his face lit up with a mix of disbelief and hope, his hand pressed against the window.

"Sugu!" you shouted again, your heart racing even harder, your legs moving as if they had a will of their own. The distance between you seemed so large, but you weren’t going to stop.

He leaned closer to the window, his hand now reaching out, as if trying to touch you through the glass. You could see the concern on his face, his bright lilac eyes filled with an emotion you couldn’t quite name, but it made you move faster, faster than you thought you could.

When you finally reached the side of the train, you stopped just short of losing your breath. You pressed your hands to your chest, feeling your heart pounding, and you looked up at him, eyes shining.

"I love you, Suguru!" you blurted, the words spilling out before you could stop them.

For a moment, there was nothing but silence. Geto Suguru froze, his eyes wide in astonishment, as though he hadn’t expected you to say it—that particular thing, not now, not like this. You watched him, your heart hanging in the air between you, waiting for his reaction, wondering if you had made a mistake.

But then, his expression softened, and a smile broke through the surprise. It wasn’t just a smile you see. It was his smile, that beautiful smile that only belonged to you. The one that made everything feel like it would be okay, no matter what. He nodded slowly, a little chuckle escaping his lips as he leaned closer to the window, as if pulling you in even from a distance.

"I love you too, buttercup!" he said, his voice full of warmth, his eyes soft but certain.

And just like that, everything that had felt so heavy was lifted, the weight of the unspoken tension, the distance between you, all of it faded into the background of that moment. You smiled back at him, breathless but relieved, and the world around you seemed to slow down.

The train started to pick up speed again, and Suguru gave you one last look, his smile still lingering as he waved.

"Take care of yourself, okay?" he called out, his voice carrying over the noise of the train.

"I will!" you said, a smile tugging at your lips. "I’ll always think of you."

And with that, the train pulled away, leaving you standing there, heart full, the buttercup charm on your bracelet gleaming softly in the fading light. 

That train carried your heart with him.

But you were sure that you held his heart here too.

You looked at your buttercup charm, smiling.

“Come back to me soon, okay?”

══════════════════

THERE WAS SOMETHING ABOUT HOW MUCH HE HAD CHANGED. And all he could do was wish that you didn’t see it, that you would never find out the truth. All he could pray for was that you didn’t notice the light in his eyes dying or the bitterness of the taste from the curses he was forced to consume still on his tongue.  

Geto Suguru has always been a powerful force of nature, a rock withstanding everything in his way. In a way, he was also your rock, your steady presence in your life. No matter what was happening around him, he was there, unwavering, holding everything together with that quiet strength of his. 

But recently, something in him had started to shift. Something he wasn’t prepared to admit to just yet. Ever since Amanai Riko’s death, the change had been subtle at first, there were those small signs that he was struggling, pulling away just a little more each day. But now, as the days passed, it became harder to ignore.

Geto Suguru was slipping.

And he didn’t know how to stop it.

He didn’t know how to be more than this.

He didn’t know the way out of it.

He found himself lost in a fog of thoughts he couldn’t quite articulate, his emotions tangled in a web he couldn't find a way out of. The burden of loss weighed heavily on him, crushing him in ways he didn’t know how to handle. But he couldn’t—wouldn’t—let you see it. Not today. Not on your birthday. Not on your last day together.

He had made it a point, from the moment you walked into the room, to be the Suguru you knew. He plastered on that familiar smile, spoke to you like everything was fine, and made sure the day went on like any other. 

But the moment you looked away, or when you laughed, or when he caught you looking at him with that softness in your eyes, a heaviness settled deep in his chest. He wanted to say something, to tell you what was really happening, but the words felt like they were caught in his throat, unable to escape.

You had no idea what he was battling inside.

And he couldn’t bear to burden you with it—not on your special day.

It was the evening, the sun sinking low in the sky, and you both sat together on the balcony of his apartment, watching the colors in the sky shift from gold to deep blue. The breeze was warm, and you had your head resting on his shoulder, the same way you had for years. You both sat there in a comfortable silence, but Suguru’s mind was anywhere but there.

"I’m really glad we could spend the day together, Sugu." you said softly, your voice like a melody that brought him back to the present. “Thank you for coming to visit me, even with your busy schedule.”

Suguru nodded, his smile barely there as he kept his gaze on the horizon, afraid if he looked at you too long, you would see the cracks he was trying to hide. "Me too, buttercup." he said, but even to his own ears, the words didn’t sound right. They didn’t carry the weight they should have.

You could feel the subtle shift in his energy, the way he wasn’t fully present. He wasn’t the Geto Suguru you knew, the Sugu who would always make you laugh, who would hold you close and whisper silly things to keep your spirits high. He was distant, almost like a shadow of himself. And you knew he hated it, even without saying it to you.

"Sugu." you said quietly, sitting up to look at him, your hand gently touching his arm. "You okay?"

Suguru flinched, the question catching him off guard. He gave a small, forced laugh, trying to brush it off. "Yeah, I’m fine. Just tired, I guess. I’ve….been very busy."

But you didn’t buy it. You knew him better than anyone else, and you could see the lie in his eyes. But he wasn’t ready to talk, not now, not on the day that was meant to be yours, not on the day that he wanted to protect you from his own chaos. He didn’t want you to see him like this, not when everything was supposed to be perfect.

He wanted to be strong for you, wanted to be the Geto Suguru you deserved, the Geto Suguru that you love, the Geto Suguru you knew. But the weight of the world felt like it was crushing him from the inside, and he didn’t know how to hold it together anymore. 

You reached up to touch his cheek, the gesture so simple but full of the warmth you had always shared. "Sugu… you don’t have to hide from me. Not now. Not ever."

He froze at your touch, his lilac eyes shutting softly, even for just a brief second. He wanted to let it all go, wanted to break down in front of you, but he couldn’t. Not like this. Not today. He swallowed hard, the words choking him before he could even say them.

"I’m fine." he repeated, but there was no conviction in his voice. “Really, buttercup. Don’t worry so much about me, okay?”

You didn’t push him further, but the sadness in his once bright eyes told you everything you needed to know. He was breaking inside, but he didn’t want you to see it. He didn’t want you to know. He didn’t want to talk about it just yet. He wasn’t ready. Not yet. And especially not on your last day together.

"Okay." you whispered softly, leaning back against his shoulder once more, both of you falling into silence again.

But Geto Suguru knew. He knew that you would always see through him. And as you sat there, so close, yet so far from what was really happening, he couldn’t help but feel like he was losing grip on everything. He thought he was losing himself, you, on the life you had dreamed of sharing.

And so, the night passed in a quiet sadness, Suguru’s heart heavy with emotions he couldn’t quite express. Tomorrow, he will leave. Tomorrow, everything will change. He knew that all too well. By sunrise, you wouldn’t recognize him anymore. By sunrise, he wouldn’t be your Sugu anymore. 

But for tonight, he would hold onto this—hold onto you, and pretend that everything was okay, just for a little while longer. He thinks he could pretend one last time and keep you with him, enjoying the need of warmth that only you could understand.

The evening air was still, the world outside quieting as the stars began to prick the darkening sky. You sat together for a little while, as you waited for the train to come. Geto Suguru’s silence was heavy, but there was a soft, almost palpable tenderness in the way he was beside you. It was always that way, when he was beside you. Even when you were kids.

But the silence was a new thing. This silence was so loud, and yet so deafening. Yet you also didn’t bridge the gap. At least not tonight. He didn’t need it right now and you can tell. You just took a deep breath and waited, staring off the train tracks. 

Your Suguru seemed lost in his own thoughts, his calloused fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns on the railing in front of you, his lilac gaze ever so lost in the faraway space. To the place you could not follow.

But you knew it was just his way of trying to hold everything in. Then, after a moment that felt like eternity, he broke the quiet, his voice soft but steady, like he was trying to make it sound casual when it wasn’t. 

"I got you something, buttercup." he said, his hand reaching into his pocket. You looked up at him, noticing the faintest tremor in his fingers, but you didn't comment on it.

He pulled out a small, carefully wrapped box, offering it to you with a look that was a mix of hesitation and something deeper, something he couldn’t quite put into words. "I know it’s not much, but I wanted to give you something… meaningful. Like always."

You took the box from him, your little heart fluttering a little in anticipation, not knowing what to expect. Slowly, you unwrapped it with much care, your tender fingers gently peeling back the layers until you saw what was inside.

It was a charm, delicate and beautiful, with a tiny forget-me-not flower carved into its surface. The petals were soft, yet detailed, their edges just slightly raised as if to give them life, to make them feel real. The forget-me-not. It was simple but meaningful, and somehow, it felt like it held everything unsaid between you two in one small, fragile flower.

Suguru’s voice broke the moment, barely above a whisper, but heavy with emotion. "I want you to always remember me, buttercup." he said, his gaze meeting yours, his eyes dark with something you couldn’t place. "No matter what happens, no matter where life takes us, never forget about me."

You froze for a heartbeat, confusion washing over you at his words. Never forget about him?

The thought didn’t make sense. Geto Suguru was more than just a memory; he was the person who had shaped so much of your life, the one who had been there for you through everything. He was your everything. How could you forget him?

You blinked, the knot in your chest tightening as you took in his face, his solemn expression that didn’t match the usual carefree look he wore. Was he already saying goodbye in some way?

You shook your head slowly, the smile coming to your lips, though it carried a mixture of sadness and certainty. "Sugu, how could you even think about that?… I could never forget about you." 

“It can happen, you know. Life happens.” He smiles in a small timid manner.  

Your voice was soft, but there was no doubt in it. "No, you’re wrong. You’re the most important person in my life. How could I forget someone like you?"

Suguru’s lilac eyes softened at your words, the weight of the moment easing just a little as you spoke. His chapped lips parted slightly, as if he wanted to say something more, but he only let out a quiet, relieved breath, his shoulders relaxing for the first time that evening.

He reached out, gently placing the forget-me-not charm on your bracelet, his fingers lingering there for a moment longer than necessary. "I just… I need to know you’ll always remember. Even when we’re apart.”

"I will, I promise." you said, your voice firm, the sincerity in your words reaching the deepest parts of him. "I’ll always think of you. Every single day, every single hour. Even the seconds. I’ll always remember you, Suguru. You’re too important to forget."

“Is that so?”

You hummed, smiling at him. “Hm. Because I love you.”

For a brief, tender moment, Suguru’s eyes seemed to shine with something that wasn’t just sadness but relief. It was as if the weight of the unspoken fears, the guilt, and the pain he’d been carrying had finally started to lift, just a little. He smiled, a real, heartfelt smile that reached his eyes.

"Good," he said quietly, his voice thick with emotion. "That’s all I need to hear."

And there, under the stars, with the sound of the world fading into a quiet lull, you both sat together. You didn’t need words to fill the silence that had settled between you. The charm on your bracelet was a promise, a symbol of everything you had been through, everything you had shared, and everything that was still to come.

"I love you too, buttercup." Suguru whispered, his voice barely above a breath, but the words carried so much weight, so much meaning that it felt like the whole world had shifted in that instant.

You didn’t hesitate, not for a second. "I know, Sugu. I know." you replied, a soft smile tugging at the corners of your lips, a smile that only he could make appear. 

It was a statement, but one that wasn’t born out of arrogance. It was the truth. The truth that had been there all along, between the quiet moments, the shared laughter, the years of growing together. He was your constant, just as you were his.

And you had always known, known in the very marrow of your bones.

he loved you too. More than anything in life. More than the universe could know.

Suguru didn’t immediately respond. He simply stared at you, his gaze softening with an intensity that almost made it hard to breathe. He shifted closer, his hands rising slowly, as if afraid that if he moved too fast, you would vanish in an instant. His fingers brushed against the curve of your jaw before they settled on your cheeks, warm and grounding.

His touch was gentle, the weight of his hands steady against your skin, as though he was afraid to touch you too hard, afraid that any sudden movement would make you slip through his fingers.

His gaze never wavered from your face, and for a long moment, it was like the world faded away. There was nothing but the two of you, him, close enough for you to feel the warmth of his presence, and you, feeling like the universe had shrunk to this moment.

Suguru’s eyes searched for yours, his expression both tender and filled with something deeper, something that only someone who had loved you for so long could understand. It was as though he was memorizing every detail of you.

The way the light caught in your eyes, the curve of your lips, the soft flutter of your lashes when you blinked. He took in your features like he was afraid they would slip away, like time was running out and he couldn’t afford to miss a single second of it.

His thumb traced the outline of your cheekbone, the movement so soft it almost tickled, but it was full of reverence. As if you were something sacred to him, something irreplaceable. As if you were the most important pearl of the world, shining in front of him, making him your sea. 

"You’re so beautiful, buttercup." he whispered, and the words held so much more than just a compliment. It was the way he said them, as if he had seen every side of you—your strengths, your flaws, your heart—and still, in every corner of it, you were beautiful to him. 

The simplicity of the words took your breath away, and for a moment, you didn’t know how to respond. You just looked at him, feeling the weight of his love like a gentle embrace, like it wrapped around your heart, holding it safe in his hands.

You didn’t need to speak to feel the truth of it all. This moment, this space between you, felt like the entire universe had conspired to bring you to this point, where everything you had shared and everything you had yet to share hung in the balance of this silent exchange.

Suguru leaned in slightly, his breath warm against your skin. You could feel the way his body was still, but there was a pulse of something deep inside him, something he wasn’t fully ready to let go of, not yet. And in that breathless, delicate space, you let your own heart speak.

"I love you, Sugu." you whispered back, your voice trembling just slightly, but filled with a certainty that made everything else fade into the background.

His hands cupped your face a little tighter, his thumbs stroking the soft skin of your cheeks as if you were the only thing that mattered in the world. "I’ll never forget you, buttercup." he murmured, almost as if he was saying it to himself, but you heard it. “You’re everything I am. Everything I breathe.”

The weight of it hung in the air, and though his words were bittersweet, you felt a flicker of hope in them.

"I’ll never forget you either." you whispered, your voice steady and sure, despite the turmoil swirling within you.

Because you knew that no matter where life took you both, Suguru would always be a part of you. No amount of time or distance could change that. “You’re my everything too.”

You leaned into his touch, your foreheads pressing gently together, the warmth of his hands grounding you both in the moment. His lilac eyes closed for a beat, a soft sigh escaping him as if he, too, was trying to hold on to this feeling, trying to commit it to memory just as you were.

And for that brief moment, there was no goodbye. There was only the now, the shared stillness, the love between you both, wrapped up in the quiet understanding that no matter what happened, you would always carry each other with you.

He moved his face closer, his lips brushing softly against your forehead. The kiss was light, like a promise, a silent vow that this love, this sacred bond between the two of you, it would never truly be broken, no matter the miles between you.

Suguru’s lips linger on your forehead for a moment longer, a soft, lingering warmth that makes everything else feel distant, as if time had slowed down just for the two of you.

The world outside the station, the sound of the train tracks, the noises of the city, the ticking of the clock, everything seemed muted, fading into the background as you both existed in this fragile, perfect bubble of quiet.

He pulled back slightly, just enough to meet your gaze, his eyes soft but laden with an unspoken weight. He looked like he wanted to say something more, something important, but the words never quite formed. 

Instead, he just studied your face, as if he was trying to memorize everything about you. Every little memory of you, your bright expression, the way your long hair fell around your face, the way your eyes held a kindness that had always been there, even in the most difficult of times.

“I’ll miss you.” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion, a subtle crack breaking through the calm facade he’d been trying so hard to maintain.

You nodded, your heart aching as his words sank in. The truth was, you would miss him too, more than you could ever put into words. You couldn’t even imagine what life would be like without him so close, without his constant presence to steady you.

The thought of the distance between you both made the space around you feel colder, as though the warmth of his touch was already slipping through your fingers.

“I’ll miss you too, Sugu. More than you know.” you whispered back, the truth of it making your voice tremble just slightly.

He smiled, a sad, bittersweet thing, his thumb tracing the outline of your jaw once more, slow and deliberate, like he was savoring every moment.

"Just remember, buttercup." he murmured, his eyes soft but intense. "No matter where we are, no matter how far apart we get, I’ll always be with you. I’ll always be there, in everything we’ve shared."

"I know." you said, nodding again, a small smile tugging at your lips. “And I’ll always carry a piece of you with me. In my heart.”

Geto Suguru’s breath caught at your words, his eyes glistening as if he wanted to say something more, but the emotion was too much, too overwhelming. Instead, he just leaned in and kissed your forehead once more, gentle but full of all the feelings he couldn’t quite express.

“I’ll be waiting, buttercup.” he whispered, his voice low, but there was a fierce determination behind it. “No matter how long it takes. I’ll be waiting for you.”

You looked up at him, your heart full, eyes brimming with something that could have been tears if you let it. You didn’t speak for a moment, just held his gaze, feeling the weight of his words settle into you like a warm, comforting blanket.

Finally, you smiled through the lump in your throat, the quiet sadness blending with something softer, something hopeful. "I’ll come back to you, Sugu. I promise. So come back to me too, okay?"

The words hung between you, a promise sealed in the silence that followed. 

He can’t promise something like that to you, not like this now. 

By sunrise, he can no longer come back to you, never again.

And yet, he still does, he lets this promise be unfulfilled.

He lets this moment be a little white lie to keep your smile.

Suguru nodded, a small, hopeful smile on his lips, but his eyes, those dark, familiar eyes, held a quiet ache. He didn’t say anything else, just stayed close, his hand still on your cheek, his presence steady even though the moment was winding down. The night was still, and it felt like time was slipping away too fast.

“I should go, buttercup.” Suguru said, his voice tinged with reluctance. "But I’ll see you again, right? You’ll visit me when you can, won’t you?"

You nodded, already knowing how much this meant to him. You smiled tenderly at him, you smiled at him like you loved him. You smiled at him like he deserves to have it. And yet he doesn’t. The devil does not deserve such a thing.

"Of course I will." you reassured him, reaching up to touch his hand, the one that had stayed on your cheek. "I won’t let you forget about me."

His smile grew just a little, and for the first time in what felt like forever, there was a glimmer of peace in his eyes. "I could never forget about you."

And with that, he gave you one last kiss on the forehead, light and full of everything unsaid, full of everything you would carry with you in your heart. He pulled back slowly, his hand slipping from your cheek to your hand.

His fingers lingering for a moment longer, as though reluctant to let go. Then, with a final, lingering look, he turned and made his way toward the door. He didn't want to leave. He didn't want this to be the last time. But he had to. He had to go.

He let himself step into it, the door closing softly behind him. For a moment, you felt the weight of the world shift. The quiet that followed his departure felt louder than any noise, and yet, somehow, you knew you’d be okay. You’d carry him with you, just like you promised.

The night grew darker, but the small forget-me-not charm on your bracelet caught the light, reminding you of everything you had shared. It was more than just a memory, it was a piece of him that you could hold on to, no matter where life took you both.

Geto Suguru was always going to be a part of you. And no matter the distance, no matter how much time passed, you would never forget him. He was the most important part of your life, and that would never change.

Two days later, you got the call.

He had gone missing, his parents were gone.

And you?

You had lost the love of your life.

That was his goodbye.

══════════════════

epilogue

A LONG TIME HAD COME AND GONE, BUT IT STILL FEELS LIKE YESTERDAY. Seven years had passed since Geto Suguru’s defection from the jujutsu society, since the time he turned away from everything he once held dear. Time had blurred the edges of the past for everyone except him. 

He had tried to move on, he knew he had to. He had all but tried to bury his memories deep enough so that they no longer haunted him. But there were days when everything came rushing back to him.

The horror on his parents faces that night, their deaths at his own hands, the ones he had betrayed, the village consumed by blue flame. And then there was you, the love he had lost and left. The one he had let go and fly away.

From the shadows, Suguru watched you kneel before the graves, the sun hanging low in the sky, casting long shadows across the quiet cemetery. You were gentle with the flowers, your movements soft as you arranged the bouquets on the gravestones, your fingers careful as they brushed away the dust that had accumulated over time. 

He had never imagined, in his darkest moments, that he would see you here—so close, yet so far away from everything he had become. But there you were, tending to the graves of the parents he had killed, as if it was something he had never been able to do. You were doing it for him, in a way, even though you didn’t have to.

He had heard the stories about it all. He had to keep his tabs on you, he just couldn’t stay away, even now. Throughout the years, he heard whispers of how you had married, how you had continued on without him, a life of your own.

He had known that it was bound to happen, but it didn’t make it any easier. To see you with a ring on your finger, a life that no longer had a place for him, a life that had moved on while he stayed stuck in his past.

The soft rustle of the wind moved through the trees, and that was when you turned your head, your eyes meeting his. For a moment, the world seemed to stand still. You blinked, as if you weren’t quite sure you were seeing him, but then there was no mistaking it.

Geto Suguru was standing there, just outside the cemetery gate, watching you with that same quiet intensity that had always been his. The world seemed to hold its breath as you slowly rose to your feet, the weight of his gaze pulling you in.

He didn’t speak at first, not knowing what to say. 

After all this time, what was there left to say?

He had left you and you had suffered.

What could someone who broke their promise say?

You walked toward him, your expression unreadable but steady, your steps purposeful. As you got closer, he noticed the glint of sunlight on your finger, and his breath hitched before he could stop himself. The wedding ring.

It was a beautiful thing, one could say. But when he looked at it, it was all but a bitter ugly, disgusting thing. It was a reminder of the life you had. A life he had never been a part of, a life he had given up on when he made the choices he did. 

You stopped in front of him, your gaze unwavering. You looked at him for a long moment, your eyes searching his face, almost as if you were still trying to figure him out after all this time. "I didn’t think you’d come back here." you said quietly, your voice thick with something he couldn’t place. Maybe it was sorrow. Maybe it was a relief.

Suguru felt a pang in his chest, but he swallowed it down. "I didn’t think I would either." His voice was rough, almost foreign to him after so many years of silence, but the words still carried weight. "But... here I am."

Your gaze flickered to the bracelet on your wrist—the one with the forget-me-not, the buttercup, the book charm. It was a silent progression that told a story. A long forgotten story, one that only you and him could remember. It was at one point his story. His presence, his absence, his love. And now it wasn’t. Not anymore.

That Geto Suguru is dead.

All that remains is an imposter.

All that remains is a devil.

"I never took it off." you said, a small, sad smile playing at the corner of your lips. "You told me to never forget you. I thought I would, after all these years... but I never could." 

Your fingers traced the charms lightly, the memory of the years that had passed between you both lingering in the air like a ghost. "I couldn’t take it off, Suguru. Not even when it felt like I should."

He couldn’t quite hide the sadness that flickered in his eyes at your words, but he didn’t look away. He had been the one to leave. He had been the one to make all the wrong decisions, and yet, somehow, you had never given up on him. You had never completely forgotten him.

Suguru reached into his pocket slowly, his movements deliberate, as though he were unsure of his next step. He pulled out a small charm, delicate and beautiful, white chrysanthemums this time, it was an offering of something new, something that said goodbye and hello being said like it was the same word.  He held it out to you, his eyes never leaving yours. 

"For you." he whispered, his voice barely audible, but full of all the unspoken feelings that had built up over the years. "I know it’s too late. But I want you to have it."

You took it from him, your fingers brushing against his for just a heartbeat before you looked down at the charm in your palm. The white chrysanthemums were soft, intricate, and they reminded you of the fleeting nature of everything. It was full of the memories, the love, the pain.

You smiled, a bittersweet curve of your lips, your heart heavy with a mixture of emotions that you had long buried. "Sugu….Suguru." you began, your voice steady but thick with something he could almost taste. "For so long, TYou wanted to be remembered. But now... you want to be forgotten."

His heart clenched at your words, but he nodded slowly, as if he had already known, as if it was something he could never change. "You deserve better than to remember a ghost of someone long gone, buttercup." he said, his voice soft but full of the kind of finality that only a ghost could understand. "You deserve a life that’s yours, not one haunted by me."

The distance between you seemed so vast in that moment, even though you were standing right in front of him. The years had stretched that gap wide, and yet, in this final moment, you both understood each other completely. 

You stood there, the weight of his words heavy between you both, as the space around you seemed to quiet. The cool breeze rustled the trees, the only sound in the air, but even it felt like a distant whisper against the rawness of the moment.

You opened your mouth, a million things on the tip of your tongue, but none of them felt right. Your heart was full of so much you couldn’t put into words. A thousand emotions flooded your chest/

And yet, you felt an aching kind of clarity in his request. You hadn’t expected it. You hadn’t expected him to say those words, to say that he wanted you to forget him. To leave him behind as if he were nothing more than a faded memory.

He stood before you, his back slightly turned, but he didn’t move away. His eyes, those dark, familiar eyes, were locked onto the distance, as though he was already gone in his mind, already on his way to somewhere far from this place, from you.

You swallowed hard, your gaze flickering over his face, trying to catch any hint of a smile, of the warmth that had once been there between you both. But it was gone. Everything had long perished to nothing.

The man in front of you wasn’t the same person you had known all those years ago, and deep down, you knew that neither were you. You had both changed, time had done its work, and the world had swept you in different directions.

"So, if I see you again—" you started, unsure of where to take the conversation, unsure of whether there even was a conversation left to have.

Suguru’s smile was sad, almost imperceptible, but it was there, and it tugged at your heart more than anything else. “Pass by, buttercup.” he said, his voice so soft, so worn. "Don’t look at me. You shouldn’t remember me. Just...."

Let me go. He thinks to himself. Don't love me again.

The simplicity of his request hit you harder than any words of anger or resentment could have. You shouldn’t remember me. He was asking you, begging you, to forget him. As though he was a shadow, a passing thing, unworthy of your attention, of your love, of your memories.

For a moment, you just stood there, your heart pounding in your chest, your mind spinning with the weight of it all. You wanted to shout, to argue, to tell him that he was wrong—that you couldn’t just erase him from your life like he was nothing.

But the silence in the air, the finality in his tone, made you hesitate. It wasn’t anger you heard in his voice. It wasn’t even regret. It was something else entirely. it was something deeper, something rooted in the pain he had carried all these years.

“I can’t just forget you.” you whispered, the words slipping out before you could stop them. The truth was raw and simple, and it echoed in your chest as it passed through your lips. "I’ve carried you with me for so long, Suguru. I can’t just erase you from my life."

Suguru turned his head slightly, just enough to meet your gaze, his eyes dark and filled with something you couldn’t quite place. It wasn’t guilt or anger, but something quieter, something softer, as though he was bracing himself for the weight of what he had just asked you to do.

"You don’t need to carry me anymore." he said, his voice barely audible, each word dragging with the weight of a thousand regrets. "I don’t deserve to be remembered. Not by you. Not by anyone. I’ve become someone else, someone I never meant to be." 

His eyes drifted to the ground, and for a moment, he looked almost... defeated. "I hurt too many people, and in the end, I hurt you too."

Those words hung in the air like a star waiting to fall from the sky but they didn’t sting, nor did they cause you any pain. Instead, they felt like the closing of a door, the end of a chapter that had been written in too much pain. You felt your heart ache, but you understood. You had mourned it long ago and this was just the end. The final bow.

You understood because, deep down, you had always known this moment would come. You had always known that one day, Geto Suguru would fade from your life, not because of time or distance, but because he had made himself into something unrecognizable.

You stepped closer, closer than you had been in so many years, the distance between you two now defined not by physical space but by something more profound, something that time had created. Your hand reached out but you stopped. You had to. You knew you can't do this. You purse your lips into a flat line. 

“I see.” You whispered, barely audible over the deafening silence between you. It was as if the world had swallowed your words before they could reach him, and the weight of it all pressed down on your chest like a heavy fog.

"I'm sorry." you murmured, feeling the familiar sting of regret in your heart. 

But the words felt useless now, just as they always had when it came to him. Too many apologies, too many unanswered questions. It was all too late. Geto Suguru shook his head ever so slightly, his dark lilac eyes never leaving the distance beyond you, his voice low but firm. 

“Don’t apologize to me.” he murmured, the edges of his words soft but carrying a weight that made your heart ache. "I should apologize…"

His eyes finally met yours, and for that brief moment, you saw a flicker of vulnerability, something raw and unguarded that he had never allowed anyone to see.

“Buttercup, I’m letting your hand go.” he said, and his voice cracked on the last word, like it pained him to even say it.

You could feel the tears pricking at your eyes, threatening to spill, but you fought them back, the lump in your throat making it harder to breathe. It was too much. Too much to lose, too much to let go of. 

“I know.” you replied, your voice barely a whisper as if saying it out loud would make it all more real. The finality of his words clung to the air, and you wished you could take them back, take him back, but the truth had already been laid bare.

“Goodbye, buttercup.” he said, the words both tender and final, and they fell like a stone into the abyss between you.

“Good… good-bye, Suguru.” you managed to choke out, your voice shaking but steady enough to carry the weight of the moment. Your lips trembled, but you didn’t dare look away from him. There was nothing more to say, nothing more that could fix the pieces that had been shattered between you two.

Geto Suguru gave you one last look. It was so brief, so fleeting, like the last ray of light before the darkness settled in. His gaze lingered on you, a final connection between two souls that had once shared everything but now, they were a thousand miles apart. 

He didn’t say anything else. 

He didn’t look back, not once. 

He simply turned, his figure growing smaller and smaller as he walked away.

Your heart tightened, but you didn’t move. You couldn’t. There was no running after him anymore. He had already made his choice, and you had to respect that, even though it felt like a piece of you was being torn away with every step he took. 

His footsteps were quiet against the earth, a soft rhythm that carried him further into the distance, further away from you, from everything you had ever known. And you stood there, frozen, unable to move, unable to make sense of the emptiness that filled the space where his presence used to be. 

You watched him disappear into the horizon, the last connection between you both unraveling like a thread slipping through your fingers. But this time, you didn’t chase after him. You didn’t need to. You didn’t have the strength anymore. 

There were no more promises, no more hopes of reunion. This was the end of the story that had once been yours, the final chapter in a love that had burned so brightly but had faded into the past. The world had changed, and so had you.

You would never see him again. He would never hold your hand again, never smile that gentle smile that had always made you feel like you were home. And you could feel the weight of that truth pressing down on you, but it didn’t break you.

It was the end of that world. Of the two of you, of the way you had been, of everything that once felt like it was meant to be. And so, you let go. You let go, even as it hurt, even as it felt like the most impossible thing in the world.

You couldn’t love him anymore. Not like you used to. Not in the way that kept him a part of your every thought, every moment. You couldn’t carry that burden with you forever, and you couldn’t make him stay.

As he disappeared completely from sight, you finally exhaled the breath you’d been holding, a quiet sigh that seemed to carry away the remnants of him still lingering in your chest. It wasn’t easy. It would never be easy. But it was the only way forward.

You took a slow step back, your feet heavy with the weight of all the years you had spent loving him. You weren’t sure what the future held, but you knew one thing for certain. You had to let him, or you'll both suffer more.

[redpill-tfs]

How dare you go around forcing these intelligent strong-willed guys into taking that dumb pill and turning them into this pretentious clown right wingers! I would never submit to this obsurdity!

I believe you mean "absurdity." You feeling alright? Maybe you shouldn't try to use such big words. They just confuse you after all. A big dumb guy like you should stick to small words.

I see you didn't notice my men behind you. The injection was given successfully. A syringe filled with a bright red liquid. The pill can take many forms. While I prefer the classic, we needed to find other ways to deal with those "less willing" to see things our way. The effects are the same though.

Your body ages to your mid thirties. You grow taller, raising up to 6 ft 4. Your jeans almost look like shorts now! Your chest expands outward, giving you a commanding presence. Your shoes and socks are ripped off as your feet grow to a size 13. Your hair turns a nice light blonde with a trendy haircut. Can't look sloppy in your new role after all.

Now let's get you dressed. You need to be professional in your line of work. Let's start with this white dress shirt, crisp and form fitting. There we go. Now a set of blue dress pants. Just stick your legs right in there... No don't struggle. You want this deep down. Perfect. Now for the necktie. A nice navy blue should do it. A matching jacket over top. Don't you think the gold buttons really bring out your eyes? Finally, a utility belt to bring it all together. So many tools for your new job.

From the look of utter horror on your face, it seems you've figured out what you are now. That's right. You're going to be one of the boys in blue. A true loyal MAGA cop, completely devoted to the system you once fought so hard against. I have your badge right here. I'll just stick in on your jacket here and kick off your reality change.

Gone are your days of protesting the system, fighting for the right for women to kill their babies, protesting the so-called "racial injustice" committed by cops. You're a true man now. You joined the police academy right after high school against your liberal family's wishes. They wanted you to go to college and create a better life for yourself but you weren't about to be brainwashed by the liberal institutions. Not that you were smart enough to go anyway.

You met the love of your life not long after and married her after graduation from the academy. You two have been happily married for 15 years now, three wonderful boys under your belt and a little girl on the way. You love your children more than anything, being sure to raise them right. You and your wife take them to church every Sunday without fail, raising them on the traditional values you wish you had growing up. Your oldest organized a protest at his private school against a student wanting to form a Gay Straight Alliance and you couldn't;t be prouder of him. You have no time for queers trying to indoctrinate your children with that bullshit. They're much too young for that.

Well Officer Jackson, I think it's time for you to get back out into the city. There's word of nationwide protests against our dear president and his administration and you'll need to preserve law and order. I'll give you some red pills to take. You never know, a protester might just decide to get violent. and need to submit to some corrections...

[s4svnn]

Out of bounds . JJK

↳ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬; his love subjected you to the true extent of deception, a merciless lie wrapped in the illusion of paradise, until the truth tore it apart - he was always out of bounds.

↳ Jungkook x reader

↳ 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐬: ongoing

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Chapter Thirty Two

The evening had started off lighthearted and fun—jokes flying across the room, the scent of Kayla’s home-cooked meal filling the air as we laughed between bites of perfectly seasoned food. For a while, everything felt easy, like the kind of night you look back on and smile at. But now? Now I was standing in the wreckage of Kayla’s overly competitive nature, dealing with the aftermath of what could only be described as absolute chaos.

I sighed, rubbing my temples as I surveyed the scene before me.

Leah was sprawled out on the couch, one arm hanging limply over the side, her mouth slightly open as if she had passed out mid-sentence. Serena, on the other hand, was curled up on the floor near the coffee table, clutching an empty red solo cup like it was a lifeline. Cyrus, well… he was face down on the carpet, completely unmoving, as if the alcohol had quite literally knocked him unconscious.

And the culprit behind this disaster was sat cross-legged on the other couch, looking far too pleased with herself as she sipped on a bottle of water, her expression smug. “Lightweights,” she muttered under her breath, shaking her head.

I shot her an exasperated look. “This is your fault.”

Kayla shrugged, unbothered. “Hey, I didn’t force them to go shot for shot with me. They chose violence.”

I groaned, sinking into the chair beside her. “You challenged them, Kay. You literally stared Leah dead in the eye and said, ‘Bet you can’t keep up with me.’”

She grinned at that. “And I was right.”

I glanced at the disaster zone that was her living room. “You could’ve just let them enjoy their drinks at a normal pace, but no—now I have three bodies to deal with.”

Kayla snorted, setting her water bottle down. “Oh please, they’ll be fine. A little hungover tomorrow, but fine.”

I sighed, shaking my head as I turned to Adam, who was sitting in the armchair across from us, completely unaffected by the chaos around him. He had a glass of whiskey in one hand, swirling the liquid absentmindedly as he scrolled through his phone with the other. Out of everyone, he was the only one who hadn’t indulged in the challenge. He hadn’t even looked remotely interested in drinking, which wasn’t surprising. He never really seemed like the type to let loose that way.

I studied him for a second, taking in the sharp lines of his face, the way his jaw tensed slightly as he read whatever was on his screen. It was strange—being around him like this, in such a casual setting, after everything.

“You’re staring.”

His voice cut through my thoughts, and I quickly looked away, feeling my face heat up. “No, I’m not.”

He raised an eyebrow, setting his phone down. “Yeah, you were.”

I huffed, crossing my arms. “You’re literally sitting in my line of sight.”

He smirked, the corner of his lips tilting up in amusement. “Right.”

I rolled my eyes but said nothing, instead reaching for my phone, only to find Kayla watching me with an all-too-knowing look on her face.

“What?” I asked, narrowing my eyes.

Kayla hummed, taking a slow sip of her water. “Nothing.”

I didn’t believe her for a second.

Before I could press her on it, Cyrus let out a loud groan from his spot on the floor, shifting slightly as if trying to wake himself up. He failed miserably, groaning again before going still.

Kayla laughed. “Told you they’d be fine.”

I shook my head. “You’re impossible.”

Kayla stretched her arms above her head, looking down at the drunken mess she had single-handedly created. “Welp, I guess I’m on clean-up duty,” she said casually, clapping her hands together before glancing at me. “I’ll haul these guys over to the guestrooms before they start drooling all over my house.”

I let out a small laugh, shaking my head. “Need any help?”

She waved me off. “Nah, I got this. You just relax.”

I didn’t argue, mostly because I knew Kayla well enough to understand that when she said she had something handled, she meant it. She crouched down and effortlessly pulled Serena up, slinging her arm over her shoulder before dragging her towards the hallway.

Cyrus and Leah were next, but I wasn’t really paying attention to Kayla anymore. Because the second she disappeared down the hall, I realized something.

Me and Adam were alone.

The air in the room shifted immediately, a noticeable change in atmosphere that sent my nerves into overdrive. The distant chatter from Kayla moving the others barely registered in my ears as the reality of the situation set in. It was just the two of us now, sitting in the dim glow of the living room, the silence between us thick enough to drown in.

I stole a quick glance at him, but he was already looking at me. His dark eyes were unreadable, intense in a way that made my stomach flip. He hadn’t moved from his spot in the armchair, but the way he sat—legs spread slightly, one arm resting against the armrest while the other still held his glass of whiskey—made him look far too composed, far too unaffected by the weight of the silence hanging between us.

I, on the other hand, felt like I was about to combust. I cleared my throat, breaking eye contact as I fidgeted with the hem of my top. “So… you’re not much of a drinker, huh?”

Adam took a slow sip of his whiskey before setting the glass down on the table beside him. “Not really.”

I nodded, grasping onto the small conversation thread like a lifeline. “Why not?”

He tilted his head slightly, his gaze still on me. “Never saw the appeal of getting wasted and embarrassing myself.”

I huffed a small laugh. “Fair enough. But you have to admit, watching them embarrass themselves was pretty entertaining.”

A ghost of a smirk touched his lips. “I’ll give you that.”

Silence settled over us again, heavier this time.

I shifted in my seat, suddenly hyper-aware of every single movement I made. The air between us felt charged, like something unspoken was lingering in the space we refused to address.

Adam must have sensed it too because he leaned forward slightly, resting his forearms on his knees. “You uncomfortable?”

It wasn’t a question.

I blinked, startled by his bluntness. “I—what?”

He studied me for a moment before leaning back again, his expression unreadable. “You keep fidgeting. You haven’t looked at me for more than two seconds. And you keep doing that thing with your fingers.”

I glanced down at my hands, realizing I had been twisting the hem of my shirt this entire time. I immediately let go, feeling my face heat up. “I’m not uncomfortable.”

A slow smirk pulled at the corner of his lips, his gaze dark and full of something I couldn’t quite place. “No?”

I shook my head, determined to keep my voice steady. “No.”

His smirk widened slightly as he leaned back in the chair, his fingers lazily tracing the rim of his whiskey glass. “Then come sit on my lap.”

My breath hitched.

“What?”

His eyes didn’t waver. “Come sit on my lap.”

His words hung in the air between us, thick with unspoken tension. I had expected him to be joking, for that familiar smirk of his to break through any second now and for him to laugh at my flustered expression. But he didn’t. He just sat there, watching me with that dark, unreadable gaze, his fingers lazily tracing the rim of his whiskey glass as if he hadn’t just thrown my entire equilibrium off balance.

“No thanks,” I finally managed, but my voice wavered slightly, betraying the whirlwind of emotions stirring inside me.

Adam tilted his head slightly, his lips curling into the faintest hint of a smirk. “What you scared?”

That was it. That was the moment something inside me shifted. The way he was looking at me, the way he had thrown that challenge into the air as if he already knew I wouldn’t take it—I refused to let him have that satisfaction.

So I straightened my back, lifted my chin slightly, and before I could overthink it, I strode over to him with newfound confidence. He look shocked at first, as if he didn’t believe i’d do it then his smirk deepened slightly, as if he was amused by my sudden boldness, but it faltered for just a second when I swung one leg over his lap, settling onto him so that I was facing him directly.

Our faces were close. Too close.

My knees rested on either side of his thighs, my hands lightly gripping his shoulders for balance, and his own hands instinctively found my waist. The warmth of his touch seeped through the thin fabric of my top, sending a shiver down my spine, but I ignored it, forcing myself to maintain my composure.

I met his gaze, refusing to waver, and smirked. “See? Not scared—”

But I never got to finish that sentence. Because in the next instant, his hand slid up my back, tangled in my hair, and before I could even process what was happening—he kissed me.

My mind went blank.

His lips crashed against mine with a mix of hunger and frustration, as if he had been holding himself back for far too long and had finally decided to stop fighting it. His grip on my waist tightened, pulling me flush against him, and I gasped softly against his mouth. He took advantage of the small opening, deepening the kiss with an intensity that made my toes curl.

This was nothing like I had expected.

Adam was always so mysterious with everything he did, but this—this was raw. Desperate. His lips moved against mine with a need that sent heat flooding through my body, his hands gripping me like he wasn’t planning on letting go anytime soon.

And the worst part?

I wasn’t stopping him.

I could feel his smirk against my lips as he felt me give in, but before I could even get annoyed at his cockiness, he suddenly shifted, turning the tables completely.

In one swift movement, he pushed forward, flipping us so that I was now the one pinned against the couch, his body hovering over mine. The weight of him, the warmth, the sheer dominance in the way he moved—it sent my heartbeat into a frenzy.

His mouth left mine, trailing down to my jaw, then lower to the sensitive spot just below my ear. I sucked in a sharp breath, my fingers instinctively gripping the fabric of his shirt as his lips brushed against my skin.

“Still not scared?” he murmured against my neck, his voice rough, teasing.

I hated how much I liked the way he sounded, how his words sent a fresh wave of heat pooling in my stomach.

I swallowed hard, trying to gather my thoughts. “Not scared,” I whispered, but it came out far less convincing than I had hoped.

Adam chuckled softly, his breath warm against my skin. “Liar.”

His hands slid lower, gripping my thighs as he pressed closer, and for a second, I thought I might actually die from how intense this was. But then—

A loud crash echoed from the hallway.

Both of us froze.

A groggy, drunken voice followed. “I think I knocked over a lamp…”

Serena.

Reality came crashing back down like a bucket of ice water.

Adam pulled back slightly, his breathing still uneven, his eyes locked onto mine with something dark and unreadable lingering in them. Neither of us spoke, the weight of what just happened still hanging in the air between us.

Then, as if sensing my inner turmoil, Adam smirked. He reached up, gently brushing his thumb against my bottom lip, his voice dripping with amusement.

His smirk deepened, his thumb still grazing my lip. “Looks like we just hit match point Banks.”

Jungkook’s POV:

Dressed head to toe in all black—an oversized hoodie that hung loosely off his frame, fitted joggers that showcased his lean build, and sleek combat boots that echoed with every step—Jungkook made his way through the airport, his presence undeniable. His dark sunglasses shielded his tired eyes, giving him an air of mystery and detachment, while his sharp jawline was set in a firm, unwavering expression. His posture and demeanor screamed that he was not in the mood for any pleasantries, and it was clear to anyone who crossed his path that approaching him would be a mistake.

As he moved through the bustling terminal, people instinctively stepped aside. Some recognized him, others just sensed the force of his presence. His every step radiated a quiet authority, a silent command that made the world around him feel a little smaller. No one dared to interrupt his pace. The murmurs of the crowd grew distant, as if they knew this was someone not to be trifled with.

Without breaking his stride, Jungkook passed the check-in counters and headed straight toward the exclusive first-class lounge. The security personnel at the entrance, who had seen countless high-profile individuals walk through those doors, gave him a nod of recognition, ushering him in without a word. Inside, the atmosphere was calm, hushed even. A far cry from the noise of the terminal, the lounge was a sanctuary for those accustomed to luxury. Businessmen in tailored suits sipped on expensive whiskey, their conversations low and measured, while celebrities relaxed in plush chairs, their faces hidden behind designer sunglasses. The subtle hum of quiet chatter and clinking glasses filled the air, but none of it seemed to catch Jungkook's attention.

His eyes scanned the room briefly, but his focus remained singular. He moved with purpose, bypassing the distractions of the lounge, and made his way to a private corner near the back. There, his assistant, Minjun, was already handling the final touches of his check-in, ensuring that everything was in place for the flight. Jungkook didn't acknowledge him immediately, instead sinking into a large leather chair with a deep sigh, as if the weight of the world rested squarely on his shoulders.

He pulled out his phone, his fingers moving swiftly across the screen as he navigated to the file his informant had sent him. The file was a mix of personal details, surveillance footage, and updates that had been gathered over the last few weeks. He opened it with a sense of purpose, his eyes scanning each line of information as if he were memorizing it. The details about Aylah Jace Banks stood out immediately—her address, a modest apartment in a quiet part of the city, and her job at a small café. There was mention of her coworkers, a small but close-knit group, and it struck him that she was someone who lived a life far from the chaos of his world.

But it was the next piece of information that made his breath catch, his jaw clenching as he read the words. Her new boss.

The words reverberated in his mind, and his hand tightened around his phone as the realization hit him like a punch to the gut. He read through the note again. Aylah had gotten particularly close to him. Too close.

His eyes narrowed as he continued scrolling, coming across the man’s name—Adam. The café owner. According to the report, Adam was in his late twenties, tall, heavily tattooed, and built like someone who spent more time in the gym than behind a coffee machine. Jungkook’s gaze dropped to the grainy surveillance image that accompanied the report, studying the man's face. The picture was blurry, but it was enough. Adam’s rugged features, the tattoos covering his arms, the cocky smirk that seemed to radiate from the photograph—it was all too clear.

So, this was the guy.

A wave of frustration and anger bubbled up inside him, but he shoved it down quickly. He didn’t have time for that now. What he needed was to focus. His fingers drummed against the edge of the chair as he stared at the image, a dark thought forming in his mind. The more he thought about it, the more the situation irritated him. How had she gotten so close to this man? What had drawn her to him? Was it the way he looked? His personality? Jungkook couldn’t say, but it gnawed at him. He had to find out.

His mind flicked back to Aylah, to the time they had spent together. He could remember her laugh, the way she had always made him feel like the world was lighter, more vibrant, whenever she was around. But that had been before. Now, she was out of his reach, and the thought of another man—this Adam—getting too close made his skin crawl.

Jungkook scoffed under his breath. Doesn’t matter. Whatever was going on between them was about to end.

Just as he was about to keep reading, the presence of someone standing too close to him made him sigh. He could already smell the floral perfume before the voice came.

"Hey there, handsome," a woman purred, her voice laced with a playful, flirtatious tone.

Jungkook didn’t even bother looking up from his phone. His eyes remained glued to the screen, fingers swiping and typing with practiced ease. His focus, unwavering. “Not interested,” he replied flatly, his voice cold, giving nothing away.

The woman, unfazed by his initial dismissal, let out a soft chuckle, the sound rich with amusement. She clearly wasn’t going to give up so easily. “Oh, come on, maybe you should reconsider. You never know what you’re missing.”

Jungkook’s fingers paused mid-swipe, but he still didn’t glance at her. The sound of her voice was starting to get under his skin, but he wasn’t about to let it show. With a slow sigh, he leaned back in his chair, his posture languid but commanding. He had no intention of letting some random woman interrupt his peace.

After a moment, he finally lifted his gaze, his dark eyes locking onto hers. She was leaning against the armrest of his chair, eyes glimmering with interest, a knowing smile playing on her lips. Jungkook tilted his head slightly, studying her for a moment.

The woman was attractive, that much was clear. She had long, tousled hair that framed her face and a bold, confident air about her. But none of it made a difference.

A slow, amused smirk tugged at the corners of his lips as he took his time looking her up and down, his expression shifting into one of cool disinterest. He wasn’t impressed, and it showed.

“Why would I want a cheap bitch like you?” he said smoothly, his tone dripping with mockery, the words cutting through the air like a blade. He leaned back further into the chair, arms crossed over his chest, daring her to respond. His eyes were cold, unblinking.

The woman blinked, taken aback for just a moment. But then, her smile faltered, and she opened her mouth to retort, only to be interrupted by Jungkook’s unyielding stare. He wasn’t done.

He let out a quiet laugh, low and dismissive, before continuing. “I have a girlfriend.”

The words hung in the air, a stark contrast to the playful energy she had been trying to project. His voice, now slightly more serious, carried a weight of finality that left no room for debate.

Her eyes widened slightly, a flicker of confusion crossing her features. “You have a girlfriend?” she repeated, as though she couldn’t quite process it.

Jungkook’s gaze softened ever so slightly, but the smirk remained. “Yeah. I do.” He leaned forward, his eyes never leaving hers. “And I’m not looking for anything else. So stop wasting my time.”

Her eyes widened in sheer offense, her lips parting in a scandalized gasp. With an indignant scoff, she spun on her heel and stormed off, her designer heels clicking furiously against the marble floor.

Jungkook barely blinked. Pathetic.

"Sir," a voice, calm yet insistent, pulled Jungkook from the depths of his thoughts. He recognized it immediately—the steady tone of his assistant, Minjun. Looking up, he saw Minjun standing in front of him, his posture impeccable, his expression a perfect blend of professionalism and subtle concern. "It’s time to board."

Jungkook’s fingers brushed against his phone screen as he quickly pocketed it, his mind still lingering on the quiet thoughts that had consumed him. He stood, stretching his arms slightly, feeling the tension in his muscles loosen. The weight of the upcoming journey settled in his chest, but he didn’t allow it to show. He ran a hand through his dark hair and adjusted the hoodie draped casually over his frame. He had become accustomed to the feeling of being under the spotlight, but this trip felt different—this was personal.

Without another word, he nodded at Minjun, who led the way toward the private boarding gate. The two of them moved with practiced ease through the airport’s high-end terminal, bypassing crowds of busy travelers and security checks, until they reached the sleek, black door that would lead them to the plane. As they stepped inside, a flight attendant, dressed in an immaculate uniform, greeted him with a respectful bow, her smile warm but professional.

"Good evening, Mr Jeon," she said, her voice as smooth as the fabric of her attire. "Please make yourself comfortable."

Jungkook offered a polite nod in return, his eyes scanning the cabin as he walked further inside. The interior of the private jet was exactly what he had expected��luxurious, spacious, and designed with meticulous attention to detail. The warm glow of ambient lighting highlighted the plush leather seats and polished wood accents, offering an air of serene elegance. He made his way to his designated seat, a corner berth in the first-class section that offered a panoramic view of the world outside. He sank into the seat, feeling the soft cushioning mold to his frame, and leaned back, letting the weight of the journey settle.

As the plane began to taxi down the runway, Jungkook slipped on an eye mask, blocking out the world around him. The hum of the engine filled the cabin as he shifted slightly in his seat, trying to find the most comfortable position. His mind, however, remained far from the quiet comfort of the moment.

There were still seven hours ahead of him—seven hours of solitude. He needed that time. Seven hours to mentally prepare for the moment that had been building up for what felt like an eternity. Seven hours to remind himself that this time, there would be no hesitation. No turning back.

In London, he would finally see her again. Jungkook’s jaw clenched as he allowed his mind to focus on the purpose of this trip. His fingers gripped the armrests as he took a slow, steady breath. There was no room for doubt, he wasn’t letting her go this time.

Aylah’s POV:

As Adam’s smirk lingered, the sound of Serena fumbling outside the door snapped me back to reality. I exhaled, stepping back from him, my head still spinning. He watched me for a moment, something unreadable flickering in his eyes before he finally sighed.

“I should probably head home,” he murmured, stretching slightly before standing up. His usual cocky demeanor had returned, but there was something else beneath it—something more guarded.

I nodded, unsure of what to say. I felt… overwhelmed. I watched as he pulled on his jacket, running a hand through his already-messy hair before making his way toward the door. He paused just before stepping out, turning back to me with one last glance.

"Night, Banks," he said smoothly, as if what just happened between us was nothing more than a casual moment in a long list of them.

I stood there for a second, trying to process everything, but then Serena groaned from the hallway, reminding me that my best friend was still very much in need of assistance. With a sigh, I grabbed a glass of water from the kitchen before making my way to her.

She was slumped against the wall near the guest room, her usually perfect curls now a mess around her face. One of her heels was missing, and her makeup was smudged. I crouched down beside her, nudging her shoulder.

"Serena, come on," I whispered. "You need to drink this and get to bed."

She let out a tired whine but took the glass anyway, sipping it in slow, exaggerated gulps.

"You’re the best," she slurred, smiling sleepily. "Love you so much, AJ."

I shook my head with a small laugh. "Yeah, yeah, love you too. Now, come on."

With a lot of effort and some stumbling, I managed to haul her into the guest bed, pulling the covers over her before she mumbled something incoherent and immediately passed out.

Finally alone again, I made my way back to my own room, shutting the door behind me with a quiet click. The second I was inside, I let out a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding. My fingers absentmindedly traced over my lips, the memory of Adam’s kiss still fresh—too fresh.

What the hell just happened?

Adam was—well, Adam. Frustrating. Cocky. Infuriating in every possible way. Sure, he was attractive. More than attractive. And clearly, he was an amazing kisser. But what did that mean? What did I want it to mean? The last thing I needed was another no-label, undefined situation with a guy who had a reputation for keeping things casual. I had been through that before, and it never ended well.

But then why did my skin still tingle where he had touched me? Why did my heart race just remembering the way his lips felt against mine? I exhaled sharply, shaking my head as if I could physically get rid of the thoughts. I needed sleep. That was all. A clear mind. A fresh start in the morning.

So, I climbed into bed, forcing myself to ignore the lingering sensation of Adam’s touch, the smirk in his eyes when he said match point, the way he made me feel. I turned over, squeezing my eyes shut. Just go to sleep, Aylah.

The next morning a loud banging on my door nearly made me fall out of bed.

"AJ! Get up!" Kayla’s voice rang through the apartment, still groggy but far too loud for this early in the morning.

I groaned, rolling over and checking my phone. 8:07 AM. Ugh. I had barely slept.

Dragging myself out of bed, I opened the door to find Kayla standing there, her hair in a messy bun and sunglasses perched on her nose—classic post-hangover survival mode. She held out a mug of coffee like an offering.

"Here. You look like you need this even more than I do," she said, her voice still scratchy.

I took it with a mumbled thanks, sipping at the hot liquid.

She leaned against the doorway, tilting her head slightly. "Sooo… anything interesting happen last night after I passed out?"

I nearly choked on my coffee. "What?"

She smirked, adjusting her sunglasses. "Oh, come on, I may have been drunk, but I swear I saw Adam leaving the living room looking all smug."

I forced a laugh, trying to act casual. "We just talked for a bit. Nothing happened."

Kayla narrowed her eyes. "Uh-huh. Right."

I rolled my eyes, ignoring the heat creeping up my neck. "Shouldn't you be dealing with your hangover instead of interrogating me?"

She sighed dramatically. "Fine, fine. But this conversation isn't over."

The warm aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the air as I tied my apron around my waist, the familiar hum of the café bringing me back to reality. It was busy as always, the comforting clatter of cups and quiet chatter from early-morning customers surrounding me like white noise. I focused on setting up the pastry display, trying to shake off the remnants of last night—the way Adam had kissed me, touched me, the way his voice had sent shivers down my spine.

Stop thinking about it.

I was just placing a tray of croissants onto the counter when a groggy but familiar voice broke through my thoughts.

“AJ….."

I turned to see Serena, Cyrus, and Leah standing a few feet away, all of them looking like they had barely survived the night before. Serena’s hair was a tangled mess, her eyeliner smudged beyond repair. Leah had on oversized sunglasses despite the fact that we were indoors, and Cyrus… well, he just looked like he regretted every life decision he had ever made.

I arched a brow. "Well, look who finally crawled out of the depths of their hangovers."

Serena winced, dramatically rubbing her temples. "God, don’t talk so loud. My brain feels like it's melting."

Cyrus groaned, leaning against the counter. "I swear I’m never drinking again."

Leah pushed her sunglasses up her nose. "You say that every time."

He shot her a half-hearted glare. "Yeah, well, this time I mean it."

I rolled my eyes, crossing my arms. "So… should I even ask how much of last night you guys remember?"

Serena groaned. "Very little." She looked up at me, her face filled with guilt. "But I do remember being a complete mess, and I’m so, so sorry for putting you through that. Seriously, Ay, you should’ve just left me passed out on the floor."

I let out a small laugh. "I considered it. But then I figured you’d probably roll under the coffee table and never be seen again."

Leah chuckled, but then she sighed, taking a step closer. "No, but really, we feel awful. We were so out of it, and you were probably just trying to enjoy your night, and instead, you had to babysit us."

Serena nodded. "Yeah. And apparently, I knocked over a lamp? Sorry about that."

I shook my head with a small smile. "Guys, it’s fine. I promise. You were drunk, not evil. And honestly? It was kind of funny."

Serena perked up. "Wait, really?"

I smirked. "Yeah. You kept calling me ‘Mom’ and tried to make me read you a bedtime story before you’d agree to go to sleep."

Cyrus snorted. "That actually sounds like something she’d do."

Leah laughed, nudging Serena. "Aren’t you a little old for bedtime stories?"

Serena groaned. "Oh my God, I hate myself."

I laughed, shaking my head. "Relax, I’ve seen you all way worse. Just maybe don’t black out in my living room again."

Cyrus placed a hand over his heart. "Scout’s honor."

Serena grinned. "Okay, Mom."

I rolled my eyes, swatting at her playfully. "Go drink some water before you pass out again."

We were still laughing when the bell above the café door jingled.

And just like that, my laughter died in my throat.

Adam’s black t-shirt clung to his toned frame in a way that made me want to scream, and his dark hair was still slightly tousled, as if he had just rolled out of bed looking perfect. But what made my stomach tighten wasn’t how good he looked. It was the way my mind immediately threw me back to last night.

His lips on mine. His hands gripping my waist. His voice, low and teasing, whispering against my skin.

Heat rushed to my face, and I quickly looked down, pretending to suddenly be very interested in rearranging the croissants. But Adam? Completely unfazed.

He barely even glanced in my direction as he walked past, his expression unreadable, his posture relaxed like nothing had happened at all.

I swallowed hard, my fingers tightening around the edge of the counter.

Of course. Of course, he was acting like it was nothing. What did I expect? That he’d walk in here and immediately sweep me off my feet? That he’d pull me aside and confess that he couldn’t stop thinking about me?

Get a grip, Aylah.

Cyrus must have noticed something was off because he nudged me lightly. "You okay?"

I forced a smile, nodding quickly. "Yeah, just tired."

Serena, thankfully, was too busy chugging a glass of water to notice anything. Leah, however, shot me a look like she knew exactly what was going on.

I ignored it.

Instead, I turned back to my work, trying my best to pretend that Adam’s presence wasn’t making my heart race, that his indifference didn’t sting just a little more than I wanted to admit. But as I reached for the coffee cups, I caught him in my peripheral vision, standing near the back of the café.

And even though he was acting like nothing had happened I could’ve sworn I saw the corner of his lips tug up in the faintest smirk.

I forced myself to shake off the lingering thoughts of Adam, inhaling deeply as I focused on the rhythm of my morning routine. The café was filling up fast, customers lining up for their morning caffeine fixes, and I was determined to bury myself in work.

Serena had finally managed to rehydrate and regain some of her usual energy, now busy making lattes while Cyrus handled the pastries. Leah leaned against the counter beside me, casually observing the morning rush before nudging my arm.

"So," she said, drawing out the word. "You sure you're okay?"

I sighed, keeping my eyes on the espresso machine. "Leah, if you ask me that one more time, I’m going to start charging you for emotional labor."

She chuckled, but I could tell she wasn’t convinced. "Fine, fine. I just… I saw the way you looked when he walked in."

I clenched my jaw slightly, keeping my voice even. "It’s nothing."

"Uh-huh." Leah crossed her arms, tilting her head. "You sure? Because you looked like you wanted to either run out the back door or throw a coffee at his head."

I huffed out a laugh. "Well, neither of those options would be very professional, would they?"

She grinned. "No, but they’d be fun to watch."

Before I could respond, the door chimed again, and I turned instinctively—grateful for the distraction. But instead of another wave of customers, a familiar face walked in.

His tall frame was unmistakable, his sandy brown hair slightly messy as always. He had this easygoing energy about him, the kind that always made people feel comfortable. Dressed in a fitted navy sweater and jeans, he looked effortlessly put together, his hazel eyes scanning the café before landing on us.

A slow smile spread across his lips as he approached the counter. "Well, if it isn’t my favorite barista."

Before I could respond, I felt Leah stiffen beside me. Subtle, but noticeable. Her eyes darted to Ryan, then back down to the register as if suddenly fascinated by the buttons. I smirked. Oh, this is interesting.

"Ryan, hey!" I greeted him, but as I spoke, I nudged Leah forward—just enough to make her stumble slightly.

She shot me a death glare but quickly composed herself. "Uh—hi, Ryan." Her voice was a little higher than usual, and I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing.

Ryan, completely oblivious, smiled at her. "Leah! Good to see you. How’s life treating you?"

She blinked. "Oh. Yeah. Good. Great."

I stifled a laugh. Smooth.

Ryan nodded. "Glad to hear it. I figured I'd come in for the best coffee in town before heading to the office."

Leah, still clearly flustered, took a deep breath before blurting out, "AJ makes the best caramel macchiato! You should totally order one!"

I rolled my eyes dramatically. Seriously?

Ryan chuckled. "That so? Sounds like a solid recommendation." He then turned to Leah, a teasing glint in his eye. "What about you? What do you make the best?"

Leah blinked rapidly, caught off guard. "Uh—I mean, I’m really good at…" She trailed off, looking completely lost. Then, she blurted out, "Pouring coffee. I pour great coffee."

I let out a strangled cough to cover my laughter while Serena and Cyrus were visibly shaking with silent amusement behind the counter.

Ryan, either completely oblivious or just being polite, grinned. "Then I think I'll need you to be the one to pour my coffee today."

Leah froze, her face going pink. "Me? Oh. Right. Yeah. Sure!"

She scrambled to grab a cup, nearly knocking over an entire stack in the process. As she worked on his drink, Ryan casually leaned on the counter, completely at ease.

"So, how’ve you been?" he asked her.

Leah, still flustered, cleared her throat. "Oh, you know. Living the dream. Making coffee. Getting blackout drunk with these idiots."

Ryan laughed. "Sounds about right. No surprise Serena was involved."

"Hey!" Serena called from the espresso machine. "I don’t always blackout!"

Ryan smirked. "You absolutely do."

Leah handed him his coffee—miraculously without spilling it—and Ryan took a sip. "Perfect," he said, flashing her a grin. "You weren’t lying about the coffee skills."

Leah let out a nervous laugh, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "Uh, yeah. Thanks."

Ryan glanced at the time. "I gotta run, but it was good seeing you guys. I’ll be back soon." His eyes flickered to Leah briefly before he smiled again. "See you around."

As soon as he walked out the door, the café erupted.

"Oh. My. God." Serena gushed, spinning to face Leah. "That was painful to watch but also incredibly entertaining."

Cyrus wiped an imaginary tear from his eye. "Leah, did you really just say your special skill is pouring coffee?"

Leah groaned, burying her face in her hands. "I hate all of you."

I grinned, slinging an arm around her shoulders. "Don’t worry. You only made a complete fool of yourself."

She whacked my arm. "You're supposed to be my friend!"

I laughed. "Oh, I am. Which is why I’m going to lovingly remind you of this moment for the rest of eternity."

Leah groaned again, but despite her embarrassment, there was a tiny smile playing on her lips. 

Cyrus clapped his hands together, shaking his head with an amused smirk. “Alright, enough teasing Leah. We actually have jobs to do, and unless we want Adam breathing down our necks, we should probably get back to work.”

Serena groaned dramatically. “Ugh, way to ruin the fun.”

Leah laughed, nudging her playfully. “Come on, we’ll grab more cups from the back.”

Serena rolled her eyes but followed Leah toward the storage room, still giggling under her breath. Meanwhile, Cyrus grabbed a towel, heading toward the sink to start washing the growing pile of mugs.

That left me at the counter, sorting through receipts and straightening out the bills in the register. The café had settled into a comfortable rhythm—machines whirring, quiet conversation buzzing in the background, the occasional sound of ceramic clinking against wood. It was just another normal shift, the kind I’d done a hundred times before.

But then the air shifted, subtle but undeniable, as someone stepped up to the counter. A presence. I didn’t look up right away, too focused on adjusting the register. “Hi, how can I help you?” I said automatically, my tone polite but distracted.

The lack of response caused my chest to tighten. Slowly, I lifted my gaze, and the moment my eyes landed on the figure standing in front of me, the world around me seemed to still. 

It was Jungkook.