#and i can not wait to forget about all this and move on

[deepspace-scenarios]

[scenario/drabble] Not Like That

Summary: LIs react when you hum a breakup song around them, getting worried when they pick up on the lyrics about an unhappy relationship. You comfort them when you realise they misunderstood and got spooked. It all ends well <3 (based on a submitted prompt)

Genre: Fluff (mild hurt/comfort bc the men got terrified)

SYLUS

You hum the chorus while folding laundry, oblivious- until Sylus’s hand stops yours. “Interesting choice of lyrics.” His tone is light, but his crimson eyes are sharp. “Care to explain why you’re singing about replacing me?”

Your stomach drops. Oh, shit- the lyrics. “Wait- I just like the melody-”

He takes a step closer. “Because I hear you singing about... needing someone ‘inside’,”

His lips brush the shell of your ear. “And if that's your wish, I’ll ruin you until you forget your own name.”

His words send a flurry of flashbacks to the night before- him carrying you from the living room to the bed, with you already kissed breathless at that point. And what happened after you got to the bed still brings a fresh wave of heat creeping up your neck to your cheeks.

“You’re thinking loudly again, kitten.”

“Yeah, of you.” You tiptoe, draping your arms on his shoulder to look into his eyes. “Only you,” you murmur, kissing him softly when he leans down, “You’re all I ever want and need, Sylus. I mean it.”

He nips your lip. “Mm. Why don't you say that again?”

You slap his chest lightly, “Don’t push your luck,”

His hands find your hips as he holds you against the dresser, closing the space between you. “Hm. But you owe me a proper apology, sweetie.”

Sylus never pouts, but this is the closest expression he’s ever made. And you see it- just barely hidden by his calm facade- is an earnest longing for reassurance. As if you'd ever, ever need anybody else when he is standing right in front of you. It tugs at your heartstrings.

You brush your thumb along his ear. “I’m sorry for scaring you, baby. I’ll make it up to you,”

His chest rumbles with a satisfied hum as he brings you closer to him.

_____

ZAYNE

Zayne pauses mid-sip of tea as you sing "He gives what he can~" under your breath, pouring yourself a second cup. His hazel-green eyes narrow. “Are you… unhappy?” The question is calm, but his knuckles tighten around his mug.

You open your mouth to explain, but he cuts you off. “I’d rather you tell me than sing it to a playlist.”

His bluntness speaks volumes- while he could be curt and straightforward, it’s rare for him to speak like this on lazy weekend mornings. You feel your heart sink when you see him watching you with unmasked concern. You hurriedly set the teapot down on the coffee table, turning to him.

You place your hands around his, guiding him to put his mug down. “Oh, Zaynie- I’m- it’s not that,”

He blinks, then exhales, gazing at his hands enclosed by yours. Only then, do you move closer to cup his face. “It’s just a random song. I promise. You make me happier than anything.”

He nods, pulling you into his chest. “... Please choose one that doesn’t make my pulse spike.”

You think of the cutest, cheesiest love ballad from animated movies- then you start singing, serenading him. You barely get to the pre-chorus when you see him struggle to fight off a growing smile, and you poke his cheeks, continuing to sing.

“Thank you,” He whispers when you stop, his smile gentle.

You tackle him in a hug, “Don’t thank me, you silly, beautiful man I love you so, so much”

_____

XAVIER

The last of the night’s dishes are cleared away from the table and stacked near the sink. Xavier’s blue eyes widen as you sing "Softer, harder, in between" while rinsing soap off some dishes he hands you.

“You- want that?” His voice cracks.

“Huh?” You freeze when realization hits- you’ve been singing for a while now, and the lyrics are hardly anything suitable for a cosy night in. It’s about intimacy, sure- but also about heartbreak, cheating, and things that you won’t ever relate to. “No! It’s just catchy!”

He steps closer, rinsing his hands under the tap and using the front of his shirt to dry them hastily. Fingers trembling as they brush your waist. “If there’s anything I’m doing wrong, or something I’m not doing… whatever you need. Just let me know.”

Pain squeezes your heart. “Xavier, you’re my everything. There’s nothing wrong with us, it’s just a song.”

With a shaky sigh, he buries his face in your neck. “My starlight, please don’t scare me like that. I don't think I can bear the thought of... whatever you were singing about,"

You wrap your arms around him, reaching up to stroke his hair. “Xavi- I shouldn't have done that, I'm sorry, I really am,”

You feel him press a kiss to the side of your neck. “It's ‘kay,” he murmurs, soft lips brushing your skin as he speaks.

"I should've given you context-" you continue, but he shakes his head as he pulls away to look at you, his blue eyes as calm as ever.

His hands on your waist are steady now- firm, even. “There is only one context that matters. Which one are you requesting for tonight? Softer… or harder?”

_____

RAFAYEL

Rafayel drops his paintbrush when you murmur the lyrics "He is stable, you are deep."

“Excuse me? I’m the boring one?!” His eyes flash as whirls around, bristling with indignance.

You try to backtrack, but he’s already draping himself over you. “I’ll drown you in ‘deep,’” he huffs, covering your face in kisses as he nuzzles against you like a disgruntled cat marking his owner. As much as he hates cats, he does act like one in times like these.

“Raf, I'm sorry! It really mmmph–” he smothers you with another kiss, “it's just a song- I'm not-”

You get cut off by a flurry of kisses pressed to your cheeks, the corner of your lips, then your mouth.

You cup his face and squeeze his cheeks likely. “My love, I'm trying to apologize to you!”

He frowns, “And stable is not in my vocabulary. Glub glub,”

(He kisses you senseless, and only then does a satisfied smile return to grace his features.)

_____

CALEB

Caleb’s grip on the steering wheel tightens as you absentmindedly sing a tune that's been on your playlist for the past week.

When you get to the lyrics "Oh yeah, baby, touch me”, he stops you, voice quietly cutting through the cabin. “…Who.”

It’s not a question. You panic when understanding dawns on you. “Wait- it's not- It’s just a song, Caleb!”

He lets out a sharp exhale, keeping his eyes straight ahead and drives until you exit the highway.

He pulls over.

“Then why does it sound like a confession of sorts? Are we having a falling-out?” He grits out.

You gently place your hand over his white-knuckles, brushing your fingers over his. “This song's just been on my playlist… it means nothing to me. I promise, Caleb.”

He sighs, flexing his fingers to release his grip on the steering wheel. He catches your wrist softly, then presses a kiss onto your palm. “Just… tell me if there's something wrong, yeah? You can take it out on me, but just- just don't sing breakup songs like that,”

The desperate tinge in his voice makes your heart sink, and you pull him close to peck his cheek, then his lips. His shoulders loosen, yet his violet eyes glimmer with depths of unspoken fears.

“Okay,” you nod, then tap the tip of his nose lightly. “Mr Colonel, I'm guilty of making you worried, so- you can deal with me as you see fit when we get home,”

He breathes a shaky laugh, raking his fingers through his hair. “God damn, pips. You're really trying to give me cardiac arrest today,”

Note: This came from a submitted prompt <3 It was a little tricky to write bc i couldnt fully imagine how they'd react in that situation ngl?? Lmk what yall think :') also I have a few WIPS but atm my brain is playing kpdh songs all day and its a bit hard to think and write i keep wanting to write lads men as the saja boys ANYWAYS THANKS YALL FOR READING <33 Comments and reblogs are always greatly appreciated <3

✨️

[norrisprincess]

Puppy Love

summary: Charles thought he would just take Leo to an appointment with a new veterinarian, but he didn't know that he would find himself returning to the vet and not exactly for Leo.

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Veterinarian!Reader

warnings: use of y/n, fluff, use of french, smau and a little bit of angst

Author Note: I apologize for any spelling mistakes. English isn't my first language, so I used a translator to write some things!

Leo needed to get vaccinated; Charles couldn't risk Leo getting sick. That's why he walked peacefully through the streets of Monaco, On the way to a new vet that Lewis had told him was quite good since its staff was very kind to pets. The wind gently against his face while he was walking and Leo was walking with his little paws beside him.

After a couple more minutes of walking and some photos with some fans who had recognized him on the street, he had arrived at the vet. It looked like a simple place so as not to attract too much attention. It looked peaceful, the colors were a visual beauty, and no dog whines could be heard.

Charles picked Leo up and entered the vet.

Upon entering the vet, all you could hear was the soft sound of music and the occasional bark. There were some people sitting in a small living room while petting their pets and others just seemed to be waiting. He was muttering softly in French about how quiet the place was before looking at the receptionist.

“bonjour!”

(“Good morning!”)

He said softly with a small smile as he approached the counter.

“Bonjour ! Comment puis-je vous aider ?”

(“Good morning! How can I help you?”)

The receptionist said with a smile as he turned to his computer and opened the list of appointments that day.

“J'ai un rendez-vous pour mon chiot, Léo, prévu à 10 heures du matin.”

(“I have an appointment for my puppy, Leo, scheduled for 10 in the morning.”)

said Charles, stroking Leo's head.

“Bien sûr ! Un instant, s'il vous plaît.”

(“Sure! One moment please”)

The receptionist tapped a bit on his computer to confirm the appointment before turning slightly to face Charles.

“Il nous reste une place, mais Mlle Stacy n'est pas disponible… Nous avons une autre vétérinaire disponible, mais elle ne parle pas français aussi couramment. Ça vous convient ?”

(“We have a spot available, but Miss Stacy isn't available... We have another vet available, but she doesn't speak French as fluently. Is that okay with you?”)

Charles shook his head, still with a small smile, as he settled Leo back into his arms.

“Ne vous inquiétez pas, je n'ai aucun problème avec ça.”

(“Don't worry, I have no problem with that.”)

The receptionist smiled before he stood up from his seat, leading Charles towards the room where the vet was.

Before they could do anything, the door opened, revealing a woman in her 20s with slightly oversized glasses.

“Oh! Miss Y/N, you have a patient here!”

Said the receptionist with a slightly strange English but still with a warm smile on his face.

You nodded a little and gave a small smile allowing Charles and Leo to enter the room before you moved to close the door behind you.

Leo was snuggled up in your arms after a couple of minutes while you tried to calm him down so he wouldn't get scared by the injection.

“He is one of the most well-behaved puppies I have ever handled, he is adorable.”

Your voice, as soft as silk, echoed throughout the room, causing Charles to lift his gaze from Leo in your arms and focus on your face. Glasses now on your head, your hair tied back in a ponytail, and your smile that would make anyone forget their worries.

“Yes, and he's also a sleepyhead.”

Charles said, followed by a small laugh that you also had before laying Leo down on a small veterinary stretcher and moving gently around the room.

Your hands moved gently into some drawers in the room, your hands went to a package of gloves and you put them delicately, then you took a small package with a small syringe and you took a small bottle that contained the medication.

Charles watched your movements closely and realized that Leo had not moved from the place where you left him on the stretcher and there he realized that he had fallen asleep only with your caresses.

You walked softly to the side of the stretcher where Leo was, gently disinfected a part of his small thigh and brought the syringe closer before gently injecting it.

“He'll be a little sensitive since vaccines make puppies a little groggy, so it's normal if he wants to sleep all day after getting home.”

You said putting a lock of your hair behind your ear and looking at him while you threw the syringe into a trash can.

You took Leo in your arms and gently gave him to Charles while the puppy licked your hands a little.

“such a cutie”

You said before Charles thanked you and headed towards the door of that quiet room.

Charles_Leclerc ✓

liked by lewishamilton and 1,304,960 others

Charles_Leclerc Guess who can't wait to get back to the vet?

comments

lewishamilton told you that was the best vet!!!!♥︎ liked by the author

user1 LEOOOO 🐶

user2 Mr Leo himself 🤓

user3 name of the vet?

↳ user4 🤷‍♀️

user5 Charles is so handsome ❤️😍😘

user6 I think is Leooooooo

user7 Lewis on the comments 😭😂

↳ user8 THISSS

user9 Leo is love, Leo is life 🙏

user10 I need a Leo in my life 🥺

user11 ❤️❤️❤️

user12 who?

↳ user13 LEO 👹

↳ user14 duuhhhhhh

user15 king leo 👑🐶

To Charles surprise, he found himself going to that vet almost every day, whether for a vaccine, a dewormer, or a bath for Leo, and each time, he would start a conversation with you, which you would follow animatedly.

Anyway, things didn't just stay there, but he would also ask for your Instagram and go out as friends once in a while so you two could talk a little more.

You didn't accept the outings because your calendar was a bit full at the moment, but you agreed to give him your Instagram and your phone number so you could chat there anyway.

ynxoxo

liked by Charles_Leclerc, Yourfriend and 79 others

ynxoxo I love my jobbb 👩‍⚕️🐶🐱🐹🐰

comments

Yourfriend Leclerc? 🤨 ♥︎ liked by the author

↳ ynxoxo 🙉🙈

↳ Yourfriend 🤨

user16 WHAT IS LECLERC DOING HERE?

↳ user17 THIS 👆👆👆

your_bro_ther CUTIES 🤍 ♥︎ liked by the author

↳ ynxoxo yes we are 🙂‍↕️

user18 So cute 🥹!!!!! ♥︎ liked by the author

After a tiring day at work, take a shower, put on clean pajamas, you set out to prepare something for dinner while keeping the air conditioning on.

You walked through your apartment, the only sound you could hear was your footsteps, until you turned on a small music player in your living room.

You walked towards your kitchen while the intro of ‘Espresso’ by Sabrina Carpenter played in the background at a moderate volume in your apartment.

You were going to grab some vegetables to start making your dinner before a notification on your phone disconcerted you. You decided to check in case it was something from the vet and you needed to go urgently.

A small, silly smile spread across your face when you saw who the message was from.

You put the phone back on the table and hurried to get out everything you needed to start making dinner, except you'd have to make enough dinner for two people, for you and Charles.

The nerves of someone else coming to your house, and that someone being a boy, made you burn your dinner at least twice, making you have to open the apartment windows to let the burning smell out of the apartment and not activate the fire sprinklers.

You were about to start making dinner again before a sound distracted you: the doorbell. Charles had arrived, and you still hadn't done anything. Embarrassed, you walked to the door and opened it, seeing that Monegasque who made your heart race.

“H-Hi…”

you said softly looking into his eyes.

“Hello chéri”

(darling)

He said with a smile as he ran a hand through his hair.

You stared at him in a daze for a moment before shaking your head slightly and stepping aside.

“please come in!”

You said before Charles nodded and he went into your apartment.

He stared at your apartment for a moment before looking back at you.

“your house is very cozy”

He said before you offered to take his coat and put it on the coat rack next to the front door.

“yeah, I like how cozy it looks too!”

you said kindly before Charles started talking again.

“Did you finish dinner or do you want me to help you?”

You laughed a little nervously and ran your hand over the back of your neck nervously before you decided to say something.

“In fact... I burned dinner twice, so I really need your help.”

He smiled and looked at you before rolling up the sleeves of his sweater a little.

“count on that”

ynxoxo

liked by Charles_Leclerc and 180 others

ynxoxo Pizza Date! 🍕❣️ w @ Charles_Leclerc

comments

Charles_Leclerc I had a very good time, we should do it again soon ❤️ ♥︎ liked by the author

↳ ynxoxo YESSS 👹

user19 found Charles 🏎️ forza ferrari!!!

user20 it looks so fun! Gonna do it with my bf!!

Yourfriend hmmmmm 🧐 ♥︎ liked by the author

↳ ynxoxo hmmm 😚

user21 PIZZAAAAAA 🍕

user22 couple material 😻

user23 CHARLES IS NOT SINGLE??

↳ Yourfriend not anymore girl 🤪

↳ ynxoxo What am I going to do with you? 🤦‍♀️

You were lying peacefully in your bed, casually swiping on tiktok like any other day off until your best friend shared a link of a Twitter post with you.

You came across the post not expecting anything more than some silly message about people complaining about how expensive dog food was until you saw those tweets, the ones that already had over 1000 likes and reblogs.

“what is happening?”

You quickly started reading what was happening and then after doing so, you wished you hadn't, your eyes widened and you quickly entered your Instagram only to see thousands of people asking for access to your private account, making you start to worry and decide to send a message to Charles asking for an explanation about everything that was happening.

When you sent the message, a thousand things went through your mind. You had no idea what you had gotten yourself into, you didn't even know this could happen. You just followed your heart and it led you to what seemed to be your downfall.

You got out of bed and rubbed your forehead trying to remove the sweat that had suddenly appeared on it.

Your head was spinning and everything was confusing until you felt your phone vibrate a little in your hand after a few minutes that seemed eternal given the situation you were in.

It was the last thing you saw before you decided to turn off your phone and go out to the balcony to try to get some fresh air and calm down a little.

You were standing against the wall of your living room and your eyes were fixed on the nervous figure of Charles, who was sitting on the armchair in front of you.

“Charles, I need you to explain to me what the hell is going on.”

You said with your arms crossed on your chest and your eyebrows a little furrowed due to your noticeable annoyance.

Charles raised his gaze only to have it locked with yours for a few seconds that felt like hours until he finally decided to speak.

“Look, I understand that you're angry-”

“I'm not angry Charles, I'm furious”

You said, frowning a little more while you still didn't take your eyes off him.

“I understand and you have every right to be.”

He let out a shaky sigh and ran his hands over his face.

“I know I should have told you about how intense Formula One fans were before, and I know I shouldn't have exposed you to this world. I know you don't want to be harassed on the street or online, nobody wants that, and I understand if you want to end it all right here, but I want you to know that I truly love you, and that I will always protect you from whoever wants to hurt you.”

He looked you in the eyes and got up from the chair, walking closer to you, with soft and slow steps as if each step of his could have enough force to break you into a thousand pieces.

“I'm sorry for everything that's happening, I really am. I know it was my fault for not being discreet, but I ask you please not to abandon what we've tried to build together.”

He grabbed your hands and intertwined them with his, causing you to quickly look away. You felt something liquid fall on his hands and yours, and then you realized he was crying.

“Don't take away Leo's chance to keep cuddling with you, to spend the day with you. From the moment I saw you on that date and saw how you treated Leo, with delicacy, kindness, and how you flattered him, you completely changed my heart..”

Your lower lip trembled a little and you let out a small sob, causing Charles to wrap you in a hug, a protective hug, one you didn't want to escape from, a hug that didn't feel forced but rather felt full of love.

Your hands wrapped around him and you hid your head in his neck, breathing in his perfume while he rested his chin on your head, closing his eyes as he traced soothing circles on your back with his hands.

“we would be a beautiful family…”

You murmured softly with a small laugh before closing your eyes and beginning to fall into a deep sleep in the arms of the man you wanted to spend the rest of your days with, even if it cost you your privacy on your social networks.

Charles_Leclerc ✓

liked by ynxoxo, lewishamilton, scuderiaferrari and 3,876,900 others

Charles_Leclerc I want to introduce you all, to my beautiful family, I had never felt so happy in my romantic life, I felt like my life was almost complete, and you @ ynxoxo were that almost, not only in my life, but also in Leo's life, you are a wonderful woman and I look forward to being able to tell everyone who is the woman who makes me and Leo happy every single day, I love you l'amour de ma vie. ❤️🐶

comments

ynxoxo Je taime aussi Charlie! ♥︎ liked by the author

↳ Charles_Leclerc t’aime*

↳ ynxoxo someone will sleep on the couch ☺️

↳ Charles_Leclerc just kidding mon amour 😅

↳ ynxoxo that's what i thought ☺️

user24 CONGRATULATIONS!!!

your_bro_ther Im so happy for the both of you ❤️ (but if you break her heart im breaking your legs 😊) ♥︎ liked by the author

↳ Charles_Leclerc Im going to treat her like a princess 🫡

user25 finally we have a mother 🥹

↳ user26 yessssssss finally

lewishamilton I wish you the best! 👏🏾 ♥︎ liked by the author

Yourfriend Charles x yn it’s real and im the fan number 1 ♥︎ liked by the author

↳ ynxoxo so true bestie 🫦 ♥︎ liked by the author

scuderiaferrari ❤️ ♥︎ liked by the author

user27 Charles giving likes to every yn comment it’s just 🙏

user28 adopt me 😭

user29 OMGGGGGGGG SO ROMANTIC

arthur_leclerc welcome to the family @ ynxoxo! (We all agree that Leo loves you more) ♥︎ liked by the author

↳ Charles_Leclerc Hey! 😡

↳ ynxoxo hehehe 🤭 ♥︎ liked by the author

↳ arthur_leclerc just saying

lando Destiny, give me a sign if I will find the love of my life just like Charles found his 🙏🏼

↳ Charles_Leclerc No

↳ oscarpiastri no.

↳ carlossainz55 sorry mate but no

↳ user30 no….

↳ maxverstappen1 👎🏻

↳ lewishamilton No

↳ user31 i don’t think so

↳ user32 No

↳ lando OK OK I GET IT 😓

↳ ynxoxo poor lando 😭 ♥︎ liked by the author

maxverstappen1 congratulations ♥︎ liked by the author

oscarpiastri Congratulations Charles 🎉 ♥︎ liked by the author

Charles found himself walking with Leo again through the halls of the vet where you had first met, but this time he wasn't going for Leo's vaccination appointment, he was going for you.

When he was in front of your office door, he knocked six times to let you know that he was the one there.

A few seconds were enough for you to open the door looking at Charles and almost immediately you bent down and took Leo in your arms, making the puppy lick your face and hands with excitement.

“who is a good boy? Yes you are!”

You petted Leo a little before you saw Charles leave a small bag with your favorite restaurant's logo on your desk.

“Thanks for picking up the order for me. You shouldn't have bothered…”

You said, looking at him shyly as you continued to caress Leo in your arms.

“mon amour, I've already told you that I wouldn't mind going to the other side of the world if it's for you.”

You smiled at him dazedly before laughing a little and watching Leo snuggle into your chest.

“you are like my guardian angel”

“et tu es tout pour moi”

(“And you are my everything”)

He said approaching you and stroking Leo's head a little.

He raised his hand to your chin and caressed it a little with his thumb before looking into your eyes.

“I love you”

He said, making the butterflies in your stomach start to flutter, tickling you all over your body.

“I love you too…”

After those words Charles closed the distance between his lips and gave you a kiss, a kiss so soft that it felt like a piece of heaven, like a home, it felt like everything.

As the seconds passed in your mind, all you could think about was that this was the moment you would treasure forever no matter what, right now it was just you, him and Leo.

taglist: no one for the moment 👎🏼

[st4rlvr]

getting high with skz thoughts 😵‍💫

bang chan is all warm touches and sleepy smiles, giggling about absolutely nothing, but the way he looks at you? it’s not a joke. he’s laying with his head in your lap, blinking slowly, and he says “you’re really pretty, you know that?” so softly you almost think you imagined it. you lean down and kiss him — slow, testing — and his breath catches. he kisses you back like he’s scared to stop, one hand on your thigh, the other tangled in your hair, sighing into your mouth between kisses like he’s been waiting years to feel you this close. “this is a really bad idea,” he whispers, but kisses you again anyway — deeper this time, hungrier, like he’s already too far gone.

lee know doesn’t say much when he’s high, just lays back with his hood up and a lazy smirk, watching you through half-lidded eyes. when you catch him staring, he shrugs, lips twitching. “you looked kissable,” he says. that’s it — no lead-up, no build. you lean in and press your lips to his, and it’s slow, teasing, like he’s daring you to keep going. he kisses like he means it, one hand tugging you by the waist, the other under your shirt just resting there, warm and firm on your back. when you finally pull away, breathless, he just mutters, “that better not be a one-time thing.”

changbin gets high and immediately turns into a puppy — clingy, giggly, flopped against you like he belongs there. “you’re soft,” he mumbles, squeezing your arm, then adds under his breath, “bet your lips are too.” you laugh, but he doesn’t — he just looks up at you, eyes glassy and vulnerable, and when you kiss him, he kisses you back like he’s starved for it. it starts sweet, then gets desperate — hands sliding under your hoodie, lips parting, “shit,” he breathes, pulling back to stare at you. “i’m not gonna forget this in the morning.”

hyunjin’s high is all limbs and laughter, dramatic gestures and flushed cheeks. he stretches out beside you, head tipped back, eyes glittering under the soft glow of fairy lights. “you’ve got those eyes,” he says, out of nowhere. “the ones that make me do stupid shit.” you barely get to ask what that means before he’s kissing you — slow, syrupy, drugged on the moment. his hands cup your face like you’re fragile, and every kiss is deeper than the last, when he finally pulls back, he’s grinning — pink cheeks, and dizzy. “don’t blame me,” he whispers. “you started it.”

han jisung talks too much when he’s high. nervous giggles, rambling thoughts, compliment after compliment that sounds like a confession. “is it weird that i think about your lips a lot? like. a lot a lot?” you roll your eyes and kiss him to shut him up and he literally gasps. “oh my god,” he whispers, “we’re kissing. we’re kissing??” then he grabs your face and pulls you back in, kissing you like he’s making up for lost time — messy, breathless, fingers in your hair, when you finally part, he’s staring at your lips like he’s in love. “i’m so glad i got high today.”

felix turns into a cuddle bug the second he gets a buzz, curling into your side, arms around your waist, head on your shoulder. “you’re so warm,” he mumbles, voice deep and slow, “and you smell really, really nice.” the second you turn to look at him, your faces are way too close. your noses brush. then your lips. and then you’re kissing — soft, tentative, like neither of you knows who moved first. but once it starts, it doesn’t stop. his hands are in your hair, your thighs are tangled, and he’s mumbling little praises between kisses. “wanted to kiss you for so long,” he says against your mouth, and the way he says it makes you melt.

seungmin acts like he’s not even high — arms crossed, unimpressed, calling you annoying every five minutes — but his cheeks are red and he keeps accidentally brushing your thigh with his. “you’re staring at me,” he says with a smirk. “can i help you?” you just say “shut up” and kiss him and he actually freezes. like genuinely stunned. but then he grabs your chin and kisses you back harder, like you just awakened something dangerous. it turns hot real fast — hands gripping your waist tight — and when it’s over, he just smirks and says, “don’t get clingy now.” (he’s the clingy one.)

jeongin is so shy about the high hitting him that he hides his face in a pillow for like 10 minutes. when he finally looks up, his eyes are glassy, lips red, hair messy, and he just stares at you. “you’re really pretty,” he whispers like it’s a secret. you crawl closer and ask, “can i kiss you?” and he nods so quickly it’s cute. you kiss him — soft, lingering — and he lets out the tiniest sigh, one hand finding your waist and holding on tight. the kiss turns deeper, and when you finally part, he’s grinning like an idiot. “we’re just friends though,” he says, blushing. “right?” (you both know better.)

(me rn 👇👇👇)

[yunalinwrites]

saja boys' sixth member is... a girl ? - first meeting/moving in | saja boys x reader

series summary: in this story, you are pretending to be a boy. not just any boy--a saja boy. but what will you do when not even your fellow members--the ones you now share a dorm with--can find out you're actually a girl? stay tuned for more!! (heavily based on you're beautiful kdrama + ouran high school host club)

You arrive at the Saja Boys’ dorm. As soon as you open the front door, you're greeted by five handsome men–your future roommates.

Y/N: Um… hello everyone. I’m Y/N. I look forward to working with you. *bowing politely*

Jinu: Y/N? Isn't that a girl’s name?

Y/N, realizing she already messed up: I-it’s just a nickname! I mean… *gesturing to Abs* they call him Abby, don't they?

Abs: Dude… she's kinda got a point…

❓ Mystery sniffs you. Two short bursts of inhalation–exactly like how you'd expect out of the wet nose of a dog. You flinch backwards, but after that, he seems to let down his guard. When he reaches out his hand to shake yours, he makes sure not to grip too tightly. His smile is warm, but you feel like even behind his bangs, he can see right through you…

💪 Abs takes no such precautions. He enthusiastically goes in to dap you up, yelling, “Welcome to the team, bro!”. The force of his hand against yours is nearly enough to send you tumbling. “Shit, my bad…” Immediately wants to take you on as his fitness-fixer-upper (i.e. he's scanning you and mentally building protein recipes and workout routines). You make note to not piss him off…

🍼 Baby isn’t rude per say, but he just figured everyone else makes up for his lack of enthusiasm. When he sees you, he looks up from his Switch for a second, and when his bubblegum pops, all he says is “‘Sup.” Doesn't even take off his headphones or wait for a response. Heads to the nearby couch and goes right back to his game. What a warm welcome…

💐 Romance greets you with a smile and immediately starts taking your stuff to your room. He offers to help you unpack, but you assure him it's fine; you don't want him to find anything incriminating but he keeps insisting. When you finally spell it out to him that you want to keep your belongings… private, he just says, “Ah, I see.” and smiles knowingly. You wonder what he thought you meant…

✨ Jinu you had met before you moved in; he had overseen your “audition” of sorts. Now that he's your leader, he tries to put on a tough guy front and is all like “Don’t forget we have rehearsal at 8 am sharp” or “This is my room. Keep out.” It convinces you for the most part, but you can't help but giggle when he tells you “not to leave food out, or else Derpy and Susie will start bouncing off the walls.” It gets even harder to take him seriously when he starts getting particular about what belongs to him in the fridge (DO NOT TOUCH!) and whose slippers are whose. You immediately straighten up when he threatens to quiz you on it, though.

And that’s the other thing–as if the five boys didn’t occupy the space enough, there’s also the giant tiger and the skeptical bird, neither of which seem to have any enclosures. Though, they are quite cute and somehow less threatening than your other roommates.

The rest of them retreat to their own rooms, leaving Jinu to give you the tour of the biggest, most beautiful compound you've ever seen. There's a fully stocked kitchen, a cozy living room, and state of the art bathrooms. Lining the exterior are floor to ceiling windows, a balcony, and a beautiful view of the city.

Once again, Jinu appears much less intimidating when he nearly slips on an empty Saja Boys™ Soda. As he leads you up the stairs to the bedrooms, you swear you hear him curse Baby under his breath.

Thankfully you get your own bedroom. Although, you can't rest too easy since all of your rooms are joined by the same hall. Yours is right next to [your fav]’s. Despite being the smallest out of everyone's (it used to be the guest room) no one can deny that it's massive. There's a king sized bed, plenty of closet space, and a desk waiting to be used. The only thing you would've liked is a private bathroom, but given everything else this place has to offer, you decide to just be grateful you get to live here at all.

Still, as you would come to find out, none of the amenities here made your life living with the boys any easier.

***

this kinda sucks but I luv u anyway. there are better scenario prompts that I plan to do that u can see here so plz lmk which ones u wanna see !!!!

masterlist

tags ^o^: @hornehlittleweeblet2 @foxta1l @prettylittlelavvy @ch1cky-093 @thoughtsfrom1985

[c4llezz]

NOW THAT WE'VE MET AGAIN

synopsis: sophia’s been acting strange lately, and the katseye girls are determined to find out who’s been stealing all their leader’s time.

TW: drinking

genre: fluff

word count: 3.3k this is part 2 of if we ever meet again. check it out first!

not proofread, so expect mistakes.

impulsively you had bought a ticket to los angeles, with the only goal of finding sophia again.

the problem was that you had no way of contacting her. i mean, you had dm’d her on instagram, but after a week of not receiving any response, you decided you were not going to humiliate yourself and deleted the message.

now your only hope was to run into her on the street like all those times before. it had to be easy, right? the universe seemed to be in your favor every time you were in the same city.

it wasn’t.

for some reason, the universe did not want to cooperate with you anymore. and for the two months you’d been living in the city, you had never encountered the idol.

living in la was expensive, and the two jobs you were working on were barely enough to sustain you. note for future self: don’t buy tickets to one of the most expensive cities in the world to look for a pretty, talented girl.

anyway, you can’t go back in time to warn your past self to save more money and apply for a better job beforehand.

so here you were, one in the morning, serving strangers drink after drink, listening to problems you were definitely not interested in, and watching people your age have the time of their lives dancing with no worries about their future hangover.

while you were making small talk with your coworker, someone walked to the counter. “hey, what can i get you?” you asked. the woman in front of you looked quite familiar, curly hair braided in a ponytail, sharp straight eyebrows, and an intense gaze that was inviting but intimidating all at once.

she was clearly on the tipsy side, her eyelids moving more slowly than normal when she blinked at you. “you are new here,” she said, not as a question but rather a statement. “i come here frequently and i haven’t seen you before.”

you shrugged “i’ve been here for a few months now, maybe you casually come on the days i don’t work”

“yeah probably.” she said “well, cute new bartender, can i get a shot of… whatever you want?”

you frowned, glancing around to see if maybe you could spot someone who might look like a friend of the girl. you noticed a few people looking her way, but none looked like a concerned friend, more like they were waiting to shoot their shot. “are you here with your friends?”

“i was,” she started, “but they had to leave. i already called someone to pick me up.”

as if on cue, her phone started ringing, and she answered the call. you obviously could not hear the other end of the line, but for the answers of the drunk girl, you figured the person who was picking her up had arrived and was waiting outside.

when she hung up, she sighed, disappointed, “i have to go. but you owe me a drink, and don't think i’m going to forget.”

you chuckled, looking at your watch, “my shift just ended. i could walk you to the door, i don’t think is safe for you to walk all the way there alone.”

she accepted your offer and waited for you to grab your things.

when you exited the club, you saw a bright red mustang parked just a couple feet away. damn. a woman was leaning on the driver's door, while another stood closer to your workplace. both were wearing caps and face masks, so you couldn’t see their faces (not that there was too much light on the street either).

the one closer to you approached quickly, “manon, come on!”

even behind the mask and hat, you could recognize those eyes anywhere.

that’s why manon had looked so familiar, she was part of the group sophia was in. and after you had done a little research, you learned a little bit about the group, and more about the girl you had met three — now four — times already.

“sophia! meet my new friend, isn't she hot? she has a skateboard too, look!”

sophia finally looked at the woman next to her friend. she planned on apologizing for any disturbance the older girl might have caused, but when she locked eyes with you, the words died on her tongue.

after a few seconds, and manon going to some nearby bushes to throw up, she finally got out of her daze. “oh lord” she sighed, looking at where the swizz girl had gone, the driver girl now rubbing circles on her back.

you cleared your throat catching the attention of the black haired girl. “i’ve been waiting for you to appear where i work magically.”

she giggled, “i tend to do that. although it is always an accident.”

when you exited the club, you saw a bright red mustang parked just a couple feet away, damn. a woman was leaning on the driver's door while another one was closer to the door of your work place, both of them were wearing caps and face mask so you couldn’t see their faces (not that there was too much light on the street either). the one closer to you approached quickly, “manon, come on!”

even behind the mask and hat, you could recognise those eyes anywhere.

that’s why manon had looked so familiar, she was part of the group sophia was in. and after you had done a little research, you learned a little bit about the group, and more about the girl you had met three, now four, times already.

“sophia! meet my new friend, isn't she hot?. she has a skateboard too, look!”

sophia finally looked at the woman next to her friend. she planned on apologizing for any disturbance the older girl might have caused, but when she locked eyes with you, the words died on her tongue.

after a few seconds, and manon going to some near bushes to throw up, she finally got out of her daze. “oh lord” she sighed, looking at where the swizz girl had gone, the driver now rubbing circles on her back.

you cleared your throat, gaining the attention of the black haired girl, “i’ve been waiting for you to magically appear where i work.”

she giggled, “i tend to do that. although it is always an accident.”

“accident or not, it’s always nice to talk to you.” then you added, “don’t think i didn’t notice when you took my wallet out of my jacket pocket last time.”

“damn it. i thought i had been subtle with it!”

there was a honk, and you both looked at the car where manon was sitting with her head resting against the window, probably asleep.

“i need to go. thanks for taking care of her, by the way.”

you saw her get into the passenger seat. and when the mustang took off, you placed your skateboard on the street and pushed off behind it. sophia watched you from the side view mirror.

“why were you talking to that girl for so long?” daniela asked while driving.

the filipina answered casually, “i was just thanking her for taking care of manon.”

the dancer seemed satisfied with her answer, and if she wasn’t, she didn't say anything else, which was nice. after all, sophia could now think about you without any distractions.

now that sophia knew where you worked, she planned to visit you, casually. normally she wouldn’t go out on nights when she knew she had early rehearsals, but she couldn’t wait any longer to see you. so she made a stupid excuse and left the house before anyone could question her.

when she arrived at the club and saw the crowd outside, she seriously considered going back and getting under her covers to get a full night of peaceful sleep. she shook her head, she was already here.

after getting inside and navigating around the sweaty bodies, she reached the bar. where she knew you would be.

manon, even though she had a massive headache, told her you were a new bartender at the place she often visited on friday nights. sophia figured your shift would be on the same night they had gone to pick up the oldest of the group.

she was proven right as soon as she took a seat at the counter and saw you nodding at something a woman sitting a few chairs aways said, with a smile that looked more like a grimace. sophia watched as the blonde woman leaned her head on her hand and said something that Sophia couldn’t hear, but she did notice your eyes go wide. even with the flashing lights around her, she noticed a red tint appear on your cheeks.

another bartender came up to the filipina, probably about to ask what she wanted to order, but sophia was already out of her seat and walking towards you.

the moment the singer was in your eyesight, all your attention was on her, and a real smile crept onto your face. something sophia took great pride in.

the woman at the bar seemed to notice this, and with a sigh, gave up her seat, which sophia took without hesitation.

you offered sophia a shot “on the house,” you said.

she knew she shouldn’t accept it; she did have an early practice the next day, but she did anyway. still, after she told you of her plans for the morning, you made sure to keep her sober. there was no way you were going to be responsible for a bad rehearsal.

you spent your shift mixing drinks and pouring shots to strangers while carrying on a conversation with someone you actually wanted to know. and at the end of your shift— it was two in the morning by the way— as always, you walked her home.

she noticed your missing helmet and the skateboard under your arm. you told her you’d sold the bike before moving to la to have extra cash, and the board was the same one you’d been riding the day you first met.

on your way to the katseye house, you even tried to teach her how to ride it. it ended with you on the ground smiling stupidly, and her on top of you, laughing loudly.

that night, you also got your stolen - or borrowed, as sophia had said - wallet back.

sophia woke up that day smiling even more than usual, despite the lack of sleep. her members obviously noticed, and they were curious about where their leader had gone the night before.

their curiosity grew even more when, after practice ended, sophia did not stay another hour like she always did, but instead would be the first to leave the building. at first, no one said anything. but eventually, lara asked casually, receiving an equally casual answer. they were disappointed, to say the least.

over the next two months, sophia would do one of three things.

leave as soon as practice ended.

suddenly get up from the couch, and go out of the house for at least 3 hours.

go out at 6 pm and get back at 3 in the morning.

all the girls made an effort to find out what, or rather who, was taking all the filipina’s time. megan followed her around. lara tried to check her texts. yoonchae even asked her if she was going on a date, and she only got a laugh and a what are you talking about?

everyone knows sophia tells yoonchae everything. so if she didn’t know, something was up.

their last resort was to find out where she went at night. that task was assigned to manon.

manon’s plan was simple: take sophia out to a club so she wouldn’t go to her usual spot, and then get her drunk enough to confess.

the only problem? getting sophia to agree.

“sure, i’ll go with you”

“come on, it’s just—wait, did you say yes?” sophia nodded “wow, i thought it would be harder.”

manon suggested her go to club, which she had last gone to when daniela and sophia had picked her up, and the black girl had thrown up on the bushes outside while a hot bartender was watching.

sophia acted as if she preferred to go anywhere but there, then agreed anyway.

as soon as they entered, manon made a beeline to the bar. “oh no,” she said, turning to look at the other girl “the bartender from last time is here!” she then noticed the filipina was already looking at you and she was… waving?

you walked up to them with a bright smile, “manon! haven’t seen you in a while. sophia, good to see you again.” you greeted them, wiping the counter.

sophia casually leaned her elbows on it. “hi y/n, your best cocktail, please?” sophia asked, while manon just observed, confused.

no way in just a five minute interaction two months ago you could be this close. manon didn’t even know your name, and her friend was here asking for your best cocktail? sophia didn’t even want to come here in the first place!

you started working on sophia’s drink, and manon stood there blinking slowly.

you carefully placed a blue martini in front of sophia, then pured a clear shot for manon, who look at it with a raised eyebrow, nonetheless she accepted the drink. “last time you asked for whatever i wanted. here it is.” the girl in braids was a little surprise by how well you remembered your only interaction.

she gagged, “ugh, what is this?”

you laughed at her reaction, “colombian alcohol. didn’t you try it in medellin?”

okay this was getting weird. manon could’ve been a little out of her when she went up to the bar last time, but she was hundred percent sure she did not tell you anything about her life, and if she somehow had, the last thing she would’ve told you was their trip to medellin to film a music video.

panicking, she turned to her leader, trying to subtly tell her that maybe they should leave because the hot bartender was actually a creepy bartender. but sophia did not even glance in her direction; she was too busy looking at the stalker in front of them!

“oh, i remember!” sophia suddenly exclaimed, “you said it was the best, but it tasted horrible. you didn’t even take one yourself!”

you laughed “i was driving you to the hotel! you don’t drink and drive, do you?.” manon was only thinking one thing: what the fuck is going on?

“drink it now,” sophia dared you.

then you started arguing about how you could not drink while working to which the other girl said no one would notice. after arguing back and forth— more flirting like back and forth —, you caved and took the shot of whatever disgusting thing you had given manon, without even flinching. sophia giggled at your smug expression.

how did this happen? the black girl didn’t know, but she was sure of one thing, and the group chat needed to be aware of it too: sophia has a gf!!!!!!

the other girls’ response was instant. lots of messages were sent in just seconds, but sophia did not pick up her phone to see what all the sudden notifications were about, she kept talking with you.

even though manon wanted to know everything from the start, with detail, she decided to leave you be and went to the dance floor. she was going to get her answers later. she’d make sure of it.

sophia joined her almost an hour later with a different drink in hand, a red one, saying something about it being more crowded than usual, and you being busy making drinks. how did she know what the usual was? manon would find out!

“so… the bartender?” manon wiggled her eyebrows teasingly

“what about her?”

“you tell me ms. ‘your best cocktail, please’.”

sophia rolled her eyes “we’ve been talking.”

“‘we’ve been talking’” manon mocked her, voice higher than usual. “since when do you talk to bartenders?”

sophia shrugged, “you kind of made me talk to her when you were throwing your insides out.”

the older girl grimaced at the memory, “okay, fair point. but, you are here talking to her as if you’ve known her all your life!”

“it’s part of her job,” sophia argued.

“no, her job is to serve drinks to customers,” manon started, “not to flirt with them. and it certainly isn’t to know their life story.”

“she’s just attentive,” she said casually.

manon, however, was not buying it “yeah, attentive. and she is also what? psychic? she knew we went to medellin!”

sophia sipped her drink “i mean, we are famous, it’s on the internet. or maybe you told her last time.”

“sophia” manon’s tone turned stern. she was clearly tired of the filipina dodging her questions. but sophia was not going down easily either. manon sighed, if sophia wasn’t going to spill, she would keep asking until the other girl got tired.

“okay” she said slowly, “where did you meet her?”

“here”

“just here?”

another sip “mostly”

“sophia!”

the girl groaned “fine! i’ve run into her a couple times before. i need another drink.” sophia walked up to the bar, manon following closely.

you noticed them immediately, just like when they first came into the club. “back so soon?” you asked, a smirk on your face.

“manon’s being annoying.”

with an offended look the accused girl said “i’m being curious.” they started bickering so fast you couldn’t understand a word.

you looked between them amused. sophia had told you everything about her relationship with all the girls. how they were like her sisters, and she had a strong their bond was. they definetly looked like sisters at the moment.

suddenly manon gasped so loud that even people around turned to look at you. “wallet girl!” she screamed, pointing straight at you.

the music seemed to get low at her comment. sophia’s face shifted from playful to shocked.

“you were the girl who stole sophia’s wallet when we were in dream academy! i remember you now, i was watching through the window. she had ten dollars, did you pay her back?”

now it was your turn to look offended “i did not steal her wallet that time! how many times do i have to say it!”

manon raised one eyebrow “so you stole it another time?” you looked away, scratching your neck “sophia! you are dating a criminal! and she stole your wallet, how fucked is that?”

“manon!” she hissed “lower your voice. she is not a criminal, and she never stole anything.”

“i stole your heart” you winked, sophia turned to you with an unamused look “sorry.” you added quickly

manon now had a shit eating grin on her face “the girls are going to love this.” she said fishing out her phone and walking away to update everyone.

“well, secrets out,” sophia said sighing.

you chuckled, “at least you don’t have to keep sneaking around?”

she smiled, “i guess.” she looked around, nervously fidgeting with her hands “if you want to, you could meet them. officially.”

“family introductions already?” you said teasingly, but then smiled warmly at the girl at the other side of the counter “i would love to.”

“great. prepare for endless teasing.”

“how bad can it get?”

“really bad,” she answered honestly. “i think i’ll leave now, gotta make sure manon doesn’t run her mouth too much.”

you laughed “i’ll text you when my shift ends.”

sophia then leaned over the counter and left a kiss on your cheek “i’ll be waiting.”

with that she walked over to her friend, who had her jaw on the floor, furiously typing on her phone. with a final wave, sophia left the club, manon asking a million questions at her side.

[karaswnee]

Loki’s NSFW Alphabet (Live action version)

[ Headcanons ]

A – Aftercare:

Surprisingly tender.

He’ll pretend to brush it off, but won’t leave your side—offering whispered reassurances, steady eye contact, and arms that hold like he’ll never let go.

B – Body Part:

Your lips.

Loki is obsessed with kissing—soft, slow, brutal, needy.

Every kiss is a contract, a promise, or a lie.

C – Cum:

Controlled, intense, intimate.

He holds eye contact when he finishes, as if trying to bind you to him with that final gasp.

D – Dirty Secret:

He’s dreamt of submitting.

Not in defeat, but in devotion.

The idea of someone taking control from him—just once—haunts and arouses him.

E – Experience:

He’s had centuries, but not nearly as many lovers as you’d think.

He seeks quality, not quantity—and connection, however brief.

F – Favorite Position:

You, on your back, legs over his shoulders.

He wants to watch every expression.

G – Goofy:

Surprisingly yes—quiet, dry humor.

He’ll raise a brow mid-thrust and say something that makes you snort-laugh, then fuck you harder to punish you for breaking the moment.

H – Hair:

Trimmed, never bare.

Loki is meticulous about appearance—neat where it counts, but he prefers a natural touch over anything too manicured.

I – Intimacy:

It terrifies him.

When sex becomes more than a game, he withdraws—but when he lets it happen, it’s earth-shattering.

J – Jack Off:

Rarely, and only when he’s absolutely desperate.

He fantasizes in detail—control, surrender, or sometimes being watched.

He always finishes thinking of you.

K – Kinks:

Praise, power dynamics, teasing, edging, light bondage.

He loves being in control—but there’s part of him that craves to be undone.

L – Location:

He prefers the comfort of a private space, but if he’s worked up enough?

A dark corridor in the TVA, a hidden corner of the palace, your bed or his.

M – Motivation:

Emotion.

Lust is easy—what drives him is need.

Challenge him, touch him like he matters, make him feel seen—he’ll lose all control.

N – No:

Mindless obedience.

He hates being idolized or used.

If you don’t want him for him, it’s over.

And any cruelty without consent? He’s gone.

O – Oral:

He’s divine at it—he makes it worship.

He won’t stop until your legs are shaking and your voice is gone.

He enjoys the act, every sound, every twitch.

P – Pace:

Calculated, teasing, and then overwhelming.

He wants to keep you on the edge—slow enough to make you ache, then fast enough to ruin you.

Q – Quickies:

If he’s desperate, yes.

But he prefers buildup.

That said, he’ll press you against a wall mid-argument and make you forget what you were fighting about.

R – Risk:

Not huge on public exposure, but loves the idea of it.

Whispering what he’ll do to you later, brushing his fingers under the table—he’s a master of tension.

S – Stamina:

He can go all night.

He doesn’t sweat, doesn’t slow—he just keeps coming back until you’re too sore to move.

T – Toys:

Uses them rarely—but if he does, they’re elegant, precise, and enchanted.

Think vibrating cuffs or pleasure spells keyed to your pulse.

U – Unfair:

Unbelievably.

He’ll edge you for hours, keep you squirming under illusions, whisper filth in your ear and walk away—just to watch you fall apart.

V – Volume:

Quiet, but intense.

He growls low in your ear, grunts under his breath, and when he breaks—that deep moan?

Worth everything.

W – Wild Card:

Sometimes slips into another timeline’s version of himself—more aggressive, more submissive, more dominant.

You never know which Loki you’ll get, but you’ll love them all.

X – X-Ray:

Lean muscle, pale skin, lightly scarred, power humming just beneath.

Everything looks regal, controlled—until you mark him.

Y – Yearning:

High, but restrained.

He feels deeply, wants desperately, but doesn’t always act.

When he does? It’s with the hunger of someone who waited too long.

Z – Zzz:

He doesn’t sleep easily after.

But if you’re beside him, he’ll hold you until dawn, nose buried in your skin, heart steady for once.

ㅤㅤ

[sugurusgurl]

Love, Eventually (Part 3)

☾𖤓 Synopsis. She marries Satoru Gojo for the money—enough to keep her brother alive. He marries her to shut his clan up—no love, no strings, just a deal. But living together makes it harder to remember what’s fake… and what’s starting to feel real.

☾𖤓 Pairing. Reader x Gojo Satoru ☾𖤓 Warnings. Hurt/Comfort, Fake marriage, emotional suppression, slow burn, unrequited feelings, mentions of critical illness (sick sibling), death threats, mentions of pregnancy, power imbalance.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 

You wake early.

Not because you have to, just… because. The apartment’s quiet, and the light outside is the gentle kind that doesn’t rush you.

The sun filters in, soft and lazy through the penthouse windows. You move through the kitchen on bare feet, tying your hair up loosely as you go. Satoru hasn’t stirred yet—not that you’re surprised.

Yesterday, he lived on strawberry mochi and half a bar of white chocolate.

You didn’t comment.

But this morning, you open the fridge and pull out what’s left: some eggs, a bit of rice, a few vegetables hanging on for dear life. It’s not much, but it’ll do. You cook quietly, humming under your breath, letting the smell of something warm and real fill the space.

You’re just plating the food when you hear slow footsteps padding down the hall.

You don’t look up.

You just finish arranging things on the table, then say casually,

“You didn’t eat anything decent yesterday. This won’t take long.”

Satoru pauses in the doorway.

You can feel him eyeing the table, the food, maybe even you.

He opens his mouth like he’s about to toss out some sarcastic remark—but nothing comes. You glance at him.

Hair tousled, shirt only halfway buttoned, hands in his pockets. Just watching.

You smile slightly.

“Relax. It’s not poisoned.”

He lets out a quiet laugh through his nose and finally walks over.

You take your seat across from him. He picks up the chopsticks and gives the food a once-over.

“You didn’t have to do all this,” he says after the first bite.

“I know.”

He eats a little more. Not rushed, not pretending. Just eating. Still watching you from time to time, like he’s trying to figure out if you’re being nice out of obligation or boredom. You don’t say much else.

But when he sets his chopsticks down a few minutes later, the plate’s clean, which says enough.

“I’m heading out,” he says, standing and stretching like he didn’t just wake up thirty minutes ago.

You nod, watching him cross the room. He grabs his coat from where it’s slung over the back of a chair and slides his sunglasses on, pushing them up to rest on his head.

He’s halfway to the door when you speak.

“Satoru.”

He stops without turning. Just waits.

You walk over and hold out a small, cloth-wrapped bento box. Simple, clean. Nothing fancy.

“For later,” you say. “In case you forget again.”

His gaze drops to it. He takes it without hesitation, inspecting the wrap briefly, then tucks it under his arm.

No thanks. No teasing.

Just a small nod.

“Alright.”

He opens the door, pauses—then glances back over his shoulder.

“Don’t wait up.”

And with that, he’s gone.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁. . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

Later that morning — on assignment

The girl isn’t annoying.

Which is, frankly, a bit of a surprise.

Gojo walks a few steps ahead of her through the grounds of Jujutsu Tech, hands in his pockets, sunglasses sliding down the bridge of his nose. She’s quiet, observant, doesn’t ask too many questions. Doesn’t flinch at the sudden wave of cursed energy in the air when a second-year screws up during training nearby.

So far, so good.

“So this is where the strongest trains his students?” she says behind him, voice dry with amusement.

He glances over his shoulder. “Careful. It’s dangerous to flatter me this early in the day.”

She smiles — not shy, not flirtatious. Just easy. Familiar.

And that’s what bugs him a little. How easy she is around him.

She walks beside him now, matching his pace. “I read about you. About the incident ten years ago.”

He doesn’t react, doesn’t blink.

“They say you changed everything.”

“I hear that a lot,” he says, light and flat.

She tilts her head, watching him. “Is it true? That you protected the last Star Plasma Vessel?” 

He stops walking. “I’m not really in the mood for a history lesson.”

She holds her hands up in mock surrender. “Fair enough.” Then, with a grin, “But you know—if I really am the next one, maybe I’m in good hands.”

She says it like a joke. Like she means it to be funny.

But she rests her hand briefly on his arm when she says it. He doesn’t move, but doesn’t acknowledge it either. 

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁. . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

The day drifts by quietly.

You tidy the apartment a little, refill the kettle, let the windows stay open just long enough to let the breeze in. There’s a kind of stillness that’s easy to get used to — one that almost feels borrowed.

You’re folding one of Gojo’s jackets when the intercom buzzes.

You press the button.

 “Hello?”

“Miss Jan? It’s Ijichi. Just dropping off something for Gojo-san.”

You buzz him up and open the door a moment later, greeting him with a small, polite smile.

He’s holding a folder, shoulders slightly tense as usual. You take it with a nod.

“Thank you, Ijichi-san. He left early this morning.”

“Yes, I was with him before he left. They asked him to escort someone to Jujutsu Tech.”

You nod again, casual. Just listening.

“She’s a transfer from Kyoto,” Ichiji adds, adjusting his glasses. “They’re considering whether she might be… well, someone significant. Potentially the next Star Plasma Vessel.”

That gives you pause for a fraction of a second — the kind you don’t let show.

“Is everything alright?”

“Yes, yes, no threat. It’s more of a precaution,” he says quickly. “The higher-ups just wanted someone capable to handle the move, and… well, there’s really only one Satoru Gojo.”

You smile faintly, not quite answering that.

You offer him a cup of tea, which he politely declines this time. Something about another errand. He leaves with a bow and a murmured thanks.

The apartment is quiet again after he’s gone.

You set the folder down where Gojo will see it.

And then you return to your folded laundry, your tea now cooling beside the window. No dramatic shift in your expression, no lingering stare. Just… thoughtfulness.

He didn’t mention it. Not that he had to. But it reminds you, quietly, that you’re only meant to fit into a small corner of his world — not be a part of the whole.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁. . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

The apartment hums in its usual quiet.

He’s stretched out on the couch, one arm flung lazily over his eyes, phone resting on his chest. Notifications buzz now and then, but none urgent enough to pull him fully upright.

When he finally shifts, propping himself up on one elbow to check the time, he catches it — just for a second.

You, sitting at the far end of the room with that book again, watching him.

Not in a weird way. Not even long enough to call it staring.

But your eyes had been on him. Soft. Unreadable.

You look away before he can say anything.

He doesn’t comment, but he sees it. And now he’s wondering what that look meant — and how long you’d been sitting there like that.

He tosses the phone onto the coffee table and leans back again, arms behind his head.

“That book must be really boring,” he says casually, not looking at you.

You don’t glance up. “It’s the third time I’m reading it.”

“Then why read it again?”

“Because I like it.” You pause. “Not everyone jumps from thing to thing like you do.”

He grins. “I don’t jump. I sample.”

You finally look up, just a bit amused. “You’ve sampled five shows in the last three nights.”

“Exactly. Cultured.”

You shake your head, but your lips tug into the smallest smile.

He shifts to sit up properly, rubbing a hand through his hair.

“You hungry?” he asks, already heading toward the kitchen. “I’m thinking mochi and... whatever else doesn’t require a stove.”

You raise a brow. “But we just had dinner.”

“Dinner was for survival. This,” he gestures dramatically to the fridge, “is for the soul.”

You exhale through your nose — not quite a laugh, but close.

And as he rummages through the pantry for something vaguely edible, he hears your footsteps pad softly across the floor, joining him without another word.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁. . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

The following day.

You’d been slow-roasting the pork since late afternoon.

The smell of ginger, soy, and something warm fills the apartment by seven — subtle, but rich enough to linger in the walls. You even put actual effort into the sides this time. Stir-fried greens. Miso soup from scratch. Rice steamed just right.

It’s not a special occasion. There was just... time. And maybe, part of you just wanted to make something that felt like comfort.

You set the table, light a single candle, then pull your hair back loosely. Nothing too formal. Just presentable.

He comes in a little after eight, no loud greeting, no rush in his step.

You hear the door unlock, the familiar shuffle of shoes against the tile. You glance up just as Satoru steps in — coat slung over one arm, sunglasses pushed into his hair.

“Hey,” he says.

You smile gently. “You’re just in time.”

He looks over, eyes catching the table — the dishes lined up, the small effort in the details, then he pauses.

“Ah.” He rubs the back of his neck, a touch sheepish. “I actually… already ate.”

Your smile doesn’t falter, not right away.

“You did?”

“Yeah. They had food at the school — the Kyoto girl and her handler insisted. I didn’t think I’d be staying that long, but…” He trails off, scratching his jaw. “Didn’t realize you were cooking like this.”

You glance back at the table.

The candle flickers a little.

But your voice stays steady. “No worries. It’ll keep.”

Satoru shifts, seeming to sense something shift with you — something small. Quiet. But real.

He opens his mouth, then closes it again. Doesn’t make an excuse. Doesn’t offer to try a bite.

Just nods.

“Smells good, though,” he says after a beat, voice softer now.

You only nod once in return, already moving to grab a container and quietly pack things away.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁. . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

The days begin to blur.

He still comes home — eventually. But never before the sky turns dark. Never before you’ve already eaten and cleaned up and maybe even tucked yourself into the couch with a book you’re not really reading.

Sometimes he leaves before sunrise. You only know because the lock clicks quietly, and the soft shuffle of his shoes follows — careful not to wake you. It’s oddly thoughtful, in a distant sort of way.

There’s no argument. No tension. Just... space.

He doesn’t say much anymore. Doesn’t linger in the kitchen like he used to. No teasing jabs. No offhand comments while scrolling through his phone. Even the half-melted chocolate bars have stopped appearing on the counter.

You don't ask where he's been. You don’t ask who he’s with.

But you’re not stupid, you know what changed.

The Star Plasma girl. The one they’re still watching. Observing. Guarding.

And when Satoru does come home — usually past ten — he’s polite. Still Satoru. Still kind in the way people can be when they’re not paying attention. 

But he doesn’t notice the meals anymore. Doesn’t notice the small ways you still try to make the space feel lived in.

And maybe that’s fine , maybe it’s what this arrangement always was.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁. . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

You don’t expect him before dark.

So when the lock turns just after seven, your hands pause mid-stir over the pot, and for a moment, you assume it’s Ichiji — maybe dropping something off again.

But when the door opens, it’s Satoru.

He doesn’t say anything at first. Just kicks off his shoes with less of his usual ease, shoulder shifting stiffly under his coat as he sets it aside.

His sunglasses stay on longer than they need to.

You watch him quietly as you set the last of the dishes on the table. The curry’s fresh. The rice is hot. You’d made it on instinct more than anything.

“You’re home early,” you say gently.

He exhales through his nose, finally sliding the sunglasses off and tossing them carelessly on the counter.

“Not really,” he mutters. “Just earlier than usual.”

You don’t press. Just nod once and gesture toward the table.

“Eat, if you’re hungry.”

He doesn’t respond, but he sits. You both eat in silence for a few minutes.

You glance at him once — how he chews slower than normal, shoulders still tense.

Finally, you speak. Carefully.

“You’ve been gone a lot lately.”

He doesn’t look up.

“Work’s busy.”

“I know,” you say quietly. “I just think… maybe you’re pushing yourself too hard.”

That’s when he stops, chopsticks mid-air.

His eyes flick to you, and for a split second, something flickers — tired, sharp.

“I’m fine,” he says, not harshly, but not gently either. “You don’t need to worry about that.”

You look down at your plate.

“I wasn’t trying to—”

“It’s not your job to monitor my energy levels,” he cuts in. Not cold. Just... done.

He immediately exhales, running a hand through his hair like he’s trying to reel himself back in.

A beat passes.

Then, a little quieter: “Sorry. Long day.”

You nod, keeping your expression even. “It’s okay.”

The silence settles again, thicker this time. You both eat slower.

But when he finishes and stands to rinse his plate, he does it without a word.

“Thanks for the food,” he mutters. And then, without looking at you— “Sorry. I’m not great company tonight.”

“That’s alright,” you say. Still soft. Still sincere. “You came home. That’s enough.”

He doesn’t reply right away.

Just gets up, rinses his bowl in the sink, and lingers there for a moment — back turned to you, head bowed a little.

Then he quietly disappears down the hall.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁. . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

You wake to an empty apartment.

No note. No message. Just the quiet hum of the city pressing against the windows.

You’re used to it by now.

Still, you pack a warm meal into a bento box — something a little richer than usual. A gentle gesture, not a grand one. You know he hasn't been eating well. Maybe this will help. Maybe he’ll smile.

You don’t text. You don’t call.

You just go.

By the time you reach Jujutsu Tech, the sun is high, casting lazy shadows across the gravel path. Students lounge near the front steps, voices drifting in easy chatter.

You walk further in, scanning the grounds.

And that’s when you see him.

Gojo.

Not in uniform, but still unmistakably himself — walking at an easy pace through the courtyard. Next to him is a girl. Young. Pretty. Quiet.

She’s saying something softly, and he’s listening. One hand in his pocket, the other holding a bottled drink. He nods, chuckles at something she says, just barely.

He hasn’t seen you.

Not yet.

You stop.

You don’t mean to, but you do. Just for a second.

The bento in your hands suddenly feels heavier.

You draw in a quiet breath and step back, out of their line of sight. You tell yourself you’ll wait until she leaves. Until he’s alone.

Until it feels like you aren’t interrupting something. You wait.

Five minutes, maybe more.

They don’t separate. She stays close to his side, their pace unhurried as they circle back toward the courtyard. He says something you can’t hear, and she laughs — not loudly, but enough to tilt her head toward him, eyes soft.

It’s not anything obvious. Nothing inappropriate.

But they don’t look like strangers.

You’re about to turn around and go — box still in hand, excuses already forming — when a voice cuts through the courtyard.

“Sensei!”

You freeze.

Yuji’s voice cuts across the courtyard before you can retreat.

“Sensei! Your wife’s here!”

You freeze. So does Gojo.

His gaze finds you instantly.

He murmurs something to the girl beside him, then makes his way over — steps slower than usual, expression unreadable.

You hold out the bento box when he stops in front of you.

“You didn’t eat,” you say simply.

He takes it with one hand, glancing briefly at the neat cloth wrap.

“You didn’t have to come all the way here for this,” he mutters. Not thankful. Not cold either — just… tired. A little impatient.

Then he turns like that’s the end of it.

“Satoru.”

You say it a little sharper this time.

He stops, sighs, and looks back over his shoulder. “What?”

You hesitate only a second.

“You’re overworking yourself again.”

His jaw ticks. Not dramatic — but enough that you catch it.

“I’m doing what I need to do,” he says. “Things are complicated right now, and I don’t have time to—” He stops himself, exhales through his nose. “Look, I’m fine.”

“You’re not,” you reply evenly.

No pleading, no anger, just truth.

His eyes narrow slightly, like he’s trying to figure out if this is about more than what it sounds like.

“You can’t expect me to slow down just because you’re worried.”

“I’m not asking you to slow down,” you say. “I’m asking you not to run yourself into the ground.”

“Jesus, Y/N,” he says. “Do you ever stop? This whole ‘worried wife’ routine—what are you doing?”

You blink.

“You’re not my wife,” he continues, voice sharper now. “You don’t need to check in on me. You don’t need to feed me. You don’t need to keep pretending when no one’s watching. That was the deal.”

Another pause. He exhales, almost impatiently.

“Go home.”

You meet his eyes.

And after a second, you nod once.

“Right.”

Then you turn and leave—quiet, steady, no drama.

He doesn’t follow. He doesn’t call out.

He just stands there, holding the bento box he didn’t ask for, watching the space where you were a moment ago.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁. . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

You don’t remember the train ride home.

Not really.

The city moved, but you didn’t. People passed. The world spun. You sat still.

By the time you reach the penthouse, the sun’s disappeared behind low clouds, the sky a dull slate. You let yourself in, lock the door, and leave the lights off.

You don’t head to the bedroom. You just sit on the couch, back straight, hands loose in your lap.

You don’t replay what he said. You don’t need to.

You’re not my wife.

Go home.

You already did.

The silence feels thicker than usual—too still, too aware of itself.

Then, without warning—

CRASH.

Glass explodes inward. You flinch as something hurtles through the living room window and slams into the floor. Sharp edges catch your skin, slicing a shallow cut above your brow.

You freeze, then reach up and feel warm blood under your fingers.

You look down. A brick lies on the floor. Dust-covered. Aged.

Wrapped around it, with a piece of twine, is a scrap of old paper. Yellowed. Torn at the edges.

You crouch. Unwrap it. Unfold.

There’s only one sentence, written in uneven, almost childlike scrawl:

"We won’t let it be born."

No name. No context. No need for either. The message is loud enough.

You stare at it, then stand slowly, the cut on your brow bleeding in a slow, steady line. You walk to the bathroom, quiet, methodical, and patch the wound without saying a word. Then, you double-lock every door and window. And this time, you keep the lights on and a fire poker within reach.

Gojo doesn’t come home that night.

[lafleurperdue]

🍁 pairing — tattoo artist!suguru geto x fem!reader

summary — you weren’t meant to see him again after the bookstore. but somehow, autumn kept writing him back into your life. from stolen glances and warm cafés to fading ink and whispered phone calls, Suguru Geto begins to teach you what it means to fall in love — even when the past is heavy, and winter always comes.

🍁 word count — [ 7.3k ]

🍁 genre/tags — modern AU, strangers to lovers, slow burn, autumn-themed, soft romance, emotional intimacy, red scarf symbolism, warm domestic moments, light angst, heavy pining, lots of subtle touches, meaningful tattoos, poetry-style narration, eventual heartbreak

🍁 warnings — 16+ ONLY. mild language,age-gap (suguru is in his early 30's & reader early 20's), mentions of emotional vulnerability, grief themes, slow emotional unraveling, deep conversations, sensual tension but no smut (yet)

🍁 author’s note — this story is part one of a short series that’s very close to my heart. It was loosely inspired Taylor Swift's All Too Well and the quiet kind of love that builds in between seasons. Thank you for being here — I hope it stays with you like falling leaves do. 🍂

🍁 navigation — series page coming soon | act two in progress

It's always raining.

It has a way of slowing everything down — the traffic, the breath in your lungs, even the heartbeat you swore that was steady five minutes ago.

The bell above the bookstore door rings low and tired. You glance up from behind the counter, fingers still curled around the pen, a book half-highlighted. You weren't expecting anyone this close to closing.

But there he was.

He walks in like he doesn’t care as if he's welcome. He moves like silence belongs to him. Dripping hair, dark hoodie, boots that carry the city on them. You can smell the storm on his jacket.

His eyes flicker to you once.

You forget the name of the book in your hands.

He doesn’t say anything at first — just wanders through the aisles like he’s chasing ghosts. One hand trailing along the spines, leaving fingerprints like scars.

You watch him, pretending not to.

And then — just as you're about to ask if he needs help —

he speaks.

“Do you believe books can ruin people?”

His voice is gravel and something ancient. Like he's lived too many lives.

You blink. You should laugh, maybe. But you don’t.

“Only the good ones,” you answer.

He smiles like that hurts.

The silence that was once interrupted, fell between the lost souls yet again. The soft pellets of rain overflowing the bookstore—

“Suguru Geto” he confirms, extending his hand

You look at it, inked calloused, beautiful in the way worn things sometimes are. Black swirls of half-finished stories climbed the veins of his wrist, disappearing under the cuff of his jacket. The bones of his knuckles were prominent, like someone who held things too tightly… or not enough.

He didn't smile.

He just waited.

“You’re new here,” he said finally, voice low, voice slow, like gravel smoothed over velvet. “You’re always reading the same book. Is it any good, or are you pretending to look smart?.”

You don't rise to his jab.

Maybe he was right.

Maybe because you want to understand why he noticed.

“You're very observant…” you say instead, not looking up from the pen between your fingers. “And late. ”

His eyes don't leave you.

The red scarf caught his eye, its crescent hue reminiscent of a sunset’s gentle glow, casting a warm, enchanting radiance that lingers in the evening air.

“I like the quiet,” he says. “City never shuts up.”

He moves closer to the counter now, resting his hand on the wood — that same hand marked with ink and life. His thumb taps once. Twice.

“You a student?” he asks.

You nod.

“Literature?”

Another nod.

He doesn’t smile, but his mouth twitches like it wants to.

“You don’t look like someone who wants to be saved by poetry.”

“And you don’t look like someone who reads,” you shoot back gently.

That gets a laugh out of him — short, sudden, real.

His shoulders relax. Yours tense.

Again.

The silence between two souls linger softly— he finally smiles as his finger tap against the wooden counter softly.

“You know...”, he started off. “Patritia Smith once said 'poetry doesn't cure grief but it understands' ”.

That's when your eyes finally met his for the very first time.

His eyes—yellow?

No — warm honey brown, glowing softly, no hint of yellow, only gentle light.

“Do you?” you asked, voice steady but your gaze unreadable.

His eyes flickered—just briefly—as if your words found a place deeper than intended. He looked at you, then looked away, almost like he needed a second to swallow something unsaid.

Then:

“Only if you recommend a book,” he murmured, the corner of his mouth tilting up, but his eyes... they didn’t smile. They were half-lidded, guarded, almost wary. Watching you like you might hand him something that hurts.

You closed the one in your hands and slid it on the counter.

Your steps echoed lightly as you walked down the poetry aisle, fingers grazing the spines until you stopped—at a thin, battered paperback, the edges softened by time.

You held it out to him.

“Here. This one’s honest.”

He raised a brow.

“Ocean Vuong. ‘On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous.’”

He took the book from you slowly, brushing your fingers in the exchange—whether by accident or not, you couldn’t tell. His thumb traced over the title. You watched the way his expression changed in small, quiet ways—like shadows shifting.

“Is it sad?” he asked.

“No,” you said softly. “It’s truthful.”

He held the book like it might bleed.

Your eyes never left his composure, his calloused hands— pondering upon the book as if he was studying a body for the first time. Your eyes meet for the third time that evening, those honey brown orbs never leaving yours. You swiftly moved towards the cashier, with him following behind you.

“So… do I owe you anything for the book?”

His voice is slow, low — the kind that rolls in like dusk. Like he’s lived more years than he’ll ever admit.

“Only if it ruins you.”

He breathes out a quiet laugh. It’s not joy, not really. It sounds like something worn and ancient — like it remembers how it used to feel.

“You’re too young to say things like that.”

“And you’re too old to pretend you don’t believe them,” you reply, not looking up. Your words hover somewhere between a whisper and a dare.

There’s a flicker in his gaze. You don’t see it, but you feel it — the weight of someone who thought he stopped being surprised by anything.

Your voice carries the softness of youth, but your eyes… your eyes carry storms.

He doesn’t say it, but something about your presence nudges something he’d long buried — hope, maybe. Or whatever’s left of it.

“That would be 80 yen, thank you.”

He doesn’t answer. Just lays the coins down gently, the metal cold against the counter.

He takes the book in one hand. The rain welcomes him again as the door opens — a gust of silence, a chime that rings low and hollow.

And then he’s gone.

But somehow, it feels like the chapter only just started.

༶•┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈•༶

"Summer made us smile during the crimson heat.

Winters made us hope, holding hands in pockets too small for our dreams.

Spring made us believe we could begin again.

But autumn…

Autumns—they were made for falling in love."

A week has passed since the bookstore incident—

his voice had lingered longer than you expected.

A poem floats among your mind—as you stir your hot chocolate absently , your pen tapping against the rim of your notebook. It's time to get a new one you thought—it was beginning to patch up.

Outside, the leaves were dancing like they were trying to remember their colors before they disappeared. Inside the café, it was too warm and your red scarf made it worthwhile as windows fogged up with each breath and conversation.

Then— the bell chimed.

Not the same as the bookstore chime, no. This one was sharper, brighter. Still something in your chest stuttered. You didn't look up at first, you didn't need to.

His presence was quieter than most—but in clung — like the way autumn clings to your scarf and hair, the scent of it lingering.

You slowly turned, and there he was yet again.

Suguru Geto, you remembered. Hoodie jacket, half- zipped, hands shoved in his pockets like he didn't want to touch anything —or anyone.

“Hot Chocolate again?” he asked, eyebrow lifting amused.

How on earth did he—

“I swear you're stalking me, ” you accused, trying to suppress the smile tugging on your lips.

He tilted his head. “Or maybe the universe just has good taste.”

He walked past you , heading towards the counter — but not before letting his hand brush lightly across your table, just enough to send the napkin fluttering, just enough to make your breath catch.

“Two,” he said to the barista, pointing. “One black coffee. One… whatever that is.”

His gaze flicked back to you .

“Hot chocolate with extra cream,” you said, arms crossed.

He smirked. “Sweet tooth. Noted.”

You looked away enough for your cheeks to turn crimson—it was like the heat in the room wasn't enough. The weather was slightly beginning to turn grey signaling that raindrops were about the scatter. The sunset itself began to vanish but for you it was like a rising pillow —smooth, soft and warm.

Your nerves seemed to betray you — a scent of cigarettes passed you before his lean figure sat across you.

“Here you go,” he paused for a moment looking for the right word — while he set the hot chocolate next to you “Sweetness”. A smirk crossed his features. That smirk, it brings life to the unwavering rustle of leaves.

With your red scarf covering your scarlet cheeks,you thanked him softly. His honey— brown eyes never left yours as he took a sip of his black coffee,your sudden expression changed from shy to yuck.

This made him laugh — a low, rich sound, like a melody you wanted to memorize. His eyes crinkled at the corners, carrying a boyish light that didn’t match his usual quiet restraint.

“So, Sweetness doesn’t do black coffee?” he teased, leaning back against the counter with a smirk tugging at his lips.

You glanced up from your notebook, feigning offense.

“Ew. It’s bitter. It tastes like heartbreak,” you said, scrunching your nose.

He chuckled again, softer this time.

“Guess I’ll stick to it then.”

“Y/N” you said softly, making his head tilt as if he didn't hear you—but you knew he heard. You realized at that moment that teasing was in his nature. It was a Suguru Geto thing.

“My name is Y/N L/N”, you repeated again. This time much firm laced with a subtle confidence.

He whispered your name softly as if he was trying to memorize it like the black swirls that crossed his half written stories , you were yet waiting for him to tell.

“Do you like them?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper—like secret lovers weren’t supposed to say out loud in the quiet of the world.

You nodded, slowly, eyes tracing the black ink dancing across his forearm as he rolled up his sleeve further. The dim light caught the glint of fading lines and fresh ones—stories etched into skin, some bold, others almost forgotten.

“They look like fragments of poems,” you murmured, reaching out but stopping yourself halfway. “Like… grief and beauty tangled together.”

His lips lifted at the corner, not quite a smile—something softer.

“You read too much.”

“You write too much,” you countered.

He let the silence hold the weight of your words before offering gently,

“You should come by sometime. The shop. I do tattoos during the week—mostly regulars, mostly meaningless shit… but you…”

He paused, tilting his head to study you.

“You’d pick something that meant something.”

Your breath hitched. “You’d let me?”

He shrugged. “Only if you bring me heartbreak”

Laughter slipped from your lips before you could stop it—soft, sudden, a little messy. Something in his expression flickered, like he wasn’t used to that sound anymore. Not in real life. Not from someone like you.

The air was hot, but it was you who changed the temperature.

You were sunlight, sudden and warm and blinding.

You didn’t notice the way he stared — but if you had, you’d have seen it: That look of a man who just remembered what tenderness felt like.

Your smile lines, the blush creeping up your cheeks, the way your eyes crinkled at the corners—

all of it, all at once, seemed to fill the room more than the sun ever could.

Your laughter slowly died down, and your eyes caught it—love it was the look of love your friends spoke of.

“You—”

A loud beep-beep startled you both.

A car was parked by the curb. Your friend had come to pick you up.

You stepped back, heart racing.

“That’s my ride.” You said to him—getting up making sure you packed all your things.

“Thank you for the hot chocolate it's my third cup for the day, I swear it's —” you were about to grab your book only for his hand to brush against yours. The feeling —his hands were cold, you could feel the callouses stretching from afar. As if time stopped in that very moment—his eyes never wavering from yours.

“Here this is the place,” he hands you a card with the name Vintage Ink House, “My number is at the back… give me a call when you decide” he whispered the last part so softly as if losing you in that moment was the only fear he had.

A smile reaches your lips, cheeks bright—you take your book, the bell chimes above the door, you look back at him.

“I'll think about it”.

"You called me Sweetness like it was a compliment, a tease, and a warning all at once."

༶•┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈•༶

Weeks slipped by like a fleeting dream.

University blurred into long lectures, blinking cursors, and coffee-stained pages. Somewhere between deadlines and distractions, you’d almost forgotten the man with a quiet voice and tattoos etched like poems across his skin.

“You good?” your friend asked, popping down beside you in the library's quiet corner.

You shrug, thumbing through your poetry notes.

“Just tired. Professor Jones thinks we're all robots”

“Robots don't get dreamy over, guys that work at Vintage Ink House , " she said teasingly as she pointed at your book with the card that's been long lost within pages.

You pause “I'm not dreamy. ”

She gave you a ‘you gotta be kidding me’, “You literally wrote ‘Sweetness’ in the margin of your notes.”

You blinked—eyes following, that's been haunting you all these weeks. The corner of the card peeks out from between pages, pressed flat like a secret.

His card.

His eyes.

His hands.

Your breath catches.

“Oh”

Your friend leans closer , “Oh? That a ‘call him’ or a ‘burn this and never speak of it again’ oh?”

You don't answer.

But your fingers already reached for it—curling around the card as if seeking for an answer.

༶•┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈•༶

In and out.

In and out.

You were definitely panicking.

Not the good kind either—the overthinking, self-interrogating, who-do-you-think-you-are kind.

It had been weeks. Weeks since the café. Weeks since he gave you his card. Weeks since you swore you'd never call.

And yet… here you were.

Standing outside his tattoo studio like the worst kind of cliché—nervous, underdressed, and overdosed on curiosity. If this wasn't for your friend you would have been at home drinking your hot chocolate, working on your damn assignment by now.

You exhaled sharply.

“Fuck it ! ,” you muttered, and pushed open the door before your courage slipped away again.

The faint chime above the door barely echoed as you stepped inside.

Dim lighting. Clean surfaces. Ink sketches framed along the walls like haunted memories. And him—

Suguru was wiping down a chair, black gloves still on, sleeves pushed up. The swirl of ink on his arm caught the overhead light as he looked up at you, brows raised in lazy amusement.

“Sweetness,” he said like it was a greeting and a challenge all at once.

“Didn’t think you’d actually show.”

You stood there, still gripping the strap of your bag like it could anchor you to reality.

“I… wasn’t sure I would.”

He chuckled lowly, tossing the towel aside before peeling off his gloves with a snap.

“You’re late.”

Then, tilting his head— “Or just fashionably nervous?”

You rolled your eyes, stepping closer. “Is it always this empty after hours?”

“Only when I’m expecting someone interesting.”

His smirk deepened. “Don’t worry. I locked up early.”

Your gaze drifted across the shop, taking in the hum of the machines, the scent of antiseptic and faint cologne.

“I haven’t even picked a design yet…”

He moved toward the desk at the back and picked up a small sketchbook, flipping it open before handing it to you.

“I figured that might happen,” he said, watching you closely.

“So I made something.”

You stared down at the design.

A flower—delicate lines, poetic curves, something abstract yet meaningful. Like it had been pulled from your thoughts before even you could explain them.

“You made this?” you asked, voice small.

“For you. It's a cluster of Forget-Me-Nots”

He shrugged, casual—like he hadn’t just unraveled your soul on paper.

“You strike me as someone who wears stories under the skin.”

You were lost in thought, unable to see the way he looked at you — the way your awe at his skills made his heart skip a beat. To him, you touched a part of him you couldn't understand. Your fingers, swipe above the piece of paper— soft blue petals —fragile you thought but enduring.

“It's beautiful,” your eyes reached his, “I'll take it” you said softly.

“It's on the house, just don't tell the owner” he teased. You laughed — soft and airy.

He nodded once, quietly, and gestured for you to follow him past the front counter. The buzzing neon sign outside hummed against the silence of the shop, casting soft amber light onto the old wooden floors. It smelled faintly of ink and something citrusy — like a memory trying not to fade.

Suguru opened the small curtain that led to the back. The room was dim, warm-toned, shelves lined with sketchbooks, bottles of ink, and the soft hiss of music playing low from an old speaker in the corner — jazz, maybe. Something slow.

“Sit,” he said softly, patting the padded leather chair. He didn’t look at you right away — instead, he reached over to pull on a pair of black gloves, the latex snapping softly against his skin. Then he walked to a sleek cabinet and pulled out the needle, the ink vial, and a small cloth he tossed over his shoulder with casual grace.

You sat carefully, fingers nervously curling around the arms of the chair as your heart tapped against your ribs.

“I’ll be gentle,” he said, finally looking at you again. “It’s just the wrist. You’ll barely feel it.”

“You say that now,” you smiled, but it was breathy. Soft. Shy.

He looked down at your wrist as he gently took it in his hand, turning it over slowly, thumb brushing over your pulse. His touch was careful, almost reverent — like he was reading you the way others read scripture.

“You always run warm,” he murmured, voice low.

Your eyes flickered up to his. “How would you know?”

He smirked. “Your hot chocolate addiction gives you away.”

He picked up a soft cloth and began to clean your wrist, gently wiping down the skin with something cool and sterile. His thumb brushed lightly against the bone there, then traced the spot again — slower this time.

“Right here,” he said, more to himself than you. “It’s where I’d keep a memory if I had one worth keeping.”

You watched him prep the needle, the small machine buzzing to life like a distant echo of something unspoken.

“Do you want to see it one last time?” he asked, holding up the small stencil — the delicate drawings of blue forget-me-nots.

“No,” you said, barely above a whisper, “I want to feel it.”

And in the low light, with your wrist in his steady hands, Suguru Geto began to draw a memory you wouldn’t forget.

“Why forget-me-nots?” you asked, you asked barely above a whisper. His eyes flickering towards you once but back to your warm skin.

He hesitated, then looked back up at you. “Because even if it doesn’t last… I want you to remember that it happened”, the last part sounded like a confession he held onto for years but only had the courage to say it now.

Your heart skipped a beat, it was something he wanted to remember—but he wanted to paint that memory onto you like a true artist.

He didn’t say anything further . Just gently turn your wrist upward and press the stencil to your skin. And then he tattooed it — slow, careful, like he was writing a love letter he couldn’t say out loud.

And you—

You stared at the wall, blinking slowly—realizing this wasn’t just a tattoo.

It was a moment.

And maybe…

It was already becoming a memory.

Moments passed until—

“Ow, that… hurt,” you whispered, flinching slightly as your wrist jolted under the needle.

Your eyes searched for him instinctively, looking for comfort.

At first, he didn’t say anything.

But then, that smile.

Not the I-like-seeing-you-in-pain kind—

No, this one was softer, almost amused.

A quiet curve of the lips that held the warmth of someone who noticed everything about you.

“Good,” he murmurs, “Means it'll stay”. His eyes finally caught yours.

“You'll be okay, I promise”, he says the last part like a promise and his one hand is now in yours rubbing it softly —in a way to soothe the pain but to you it felt more like a thousand butterflies tried to escape within your chest.

“I'll buy you hot chocolate after this” you smile only for him to continue his masterpiece. Your red scarf kept your flushed cheeks hidden as he continued his work.

Fifteen minutes,

Thirty minutes,

And hours went by and you finally heard the machine that brought memories stop.

“Well it looks like we're all done here” he murmured,rubbing the skin he painted with memories.

“This one, ” he started. “Was my first”. Your eyes following the way he reached for the sleeve of his left arm. A Camellia.

You subconsciously reached out, only for your burning skin to touch his own. Cold—like an aching winter waiting to be touched by summer. Your finger followed the lines that drew like ribbons to his fingers—as you got lost in thought.

“Camellias… mean many things. But to me it was grief.”

He paused for a second, the soft wind outside the building filling the space for a moment.

You finally looked at him, and finally—yet again your eyes connected for the first time in a while, in that moment the grief was clear within his eyes. You wanted to reach for his hand —reach for his cheek —heck for him. You wanted to reach for him and tell him that you were here with him at this very moment. But deep down you know, your presence alone with the only comfort you could offer —only for this moment.

He finally continued.

“I got it when I was seventeen. After I lost someone. Not to death, but… it felt like it.”

You look at him, quietly waiting.

“They used to say the camellia meant ‘longing’ in some old book I read. So I inked it. Not to remember them… but to remember how I felt when I left them.”

He shrugs a little.

“Stupid maybe. But I didn’t want to forget how it changed me.”

“It's not stupid” you justified,your hand gripping his forearm. There was a long aching silence until you finally had the strength to support the now vulnerable man in front of you.

“For hope is the hardest love we carry, ” you stated, “and if love was the only hope you had left —then that was indeed your remembering”, your grip finally released. Your eyes never left his—those honey brown eyes you first encountered weeks ago are now haunting you by each moment.

“So Sweetness is a poet after all, ” it was finally your turn to blush. You look away immediately, face already covered by your red scarf —you swore it was a life saver after all the times he made you blush.

“Thank you”, his words hanging in the air—before you could utter a word he got up to walk over to a wooden cabinet—only to come back with a few oils.

He sits down as he grabs your arm, gently —his fingers gliding against the reddened skin. He begins to explain why he has to run some oils on your skin and how it would soothe the pain—he wraps a thin piece of plastic to cover it and continues to explain how you'll have to treat it at home. Even though it was small it was still meaningful to you —and you could tell by the way he treated it —it added meaning to him too.

The shop was quiet now—just the soft click of the wall clock and the buzz of neon from outside leaking through the windows. He pulled the stool back slightly and met your gaze.

“So about that hot chocolate, want to get some protein with that poisonous concoction of yours?”

“Hey!!—at least it's not as bitter as your taste” you quipped, flexing your wrist gently.

That earned you a laugh, and a quiet, “Come on, Sweetness.”

༶•┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈•༶

The car ride was quiet, with Sade drumming through his speakers—wind gushing through the window it was a beautiful moment indeed. The skies were no longer grey; they were pitch black, while the starry stars stalked everyone for a moment.

You sat in the passenger seat, one leg tucked beneath you, his hoodie draped over your lap like a blanket. He smelled like leather, cigarettes and something faintly herbal, maybe vetiver. You noticed how his hand gripped the wheel—calm but firm.

“You’ve got this way of making people talk,” he said suddenly, eyes flicking toward you then back on the road.

“Oh yeah?” you smiled, “Then why haven’t you?”

He exhaled through his nose. Not quite a laugh. Not quite an answer.

“Not everyone needs to talk right away,” he said. “Some things… take time.”

You nodded, with understanding— knowing full well that some people guard themselves with caution . So you respected him fully for that.

And so you keep your gaze on the stars, never realizing his eyes are tracing your every move—like he's trying to memorize you, piece by piece.

The light turned red, but you barely noticed. His eyes weren’t on the road—they were on you, on how you watched the stars like they were whispering secrets, on how you touched your wrist like the ink had a heartbeat.

“What?” you asked, realizing he was staring.

He blinked like he’d just woken up.

“Nothing. You’re just… loud.”

“I didn’t say anything!” you gasped.

“Exactly,” he murmured, just as the car rolled past the red light.

A loud horn blared, and he instinctively hit the brake—your hands flew to the dash. For a moment there was silence.

“Holy shit—” you breathed.

He let out a slow laugh, running a hand through his hair.

“Sorry. You’re… distracting, that’s all.”

You both burst out laughing, breathless and a little stunned. Your cheeks burned, and for the first time that night, he reached for your hand—not the one with the tattoo, but your other one, the one you didn’t expect him to hold.

༶•┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈•༶

You stopped by a quiet late-night café, the kind that smelled like cinnamon and played jazz no one really listened to—he ordered something for the both of you at the cashier before coming back with a sweet hot chocolate in hand, carried along with the bitter coffee he loved so much.

Sitting across from each other, the heat between you wasn't from the drinks. In fact —he held your hand. Your cheeks still red from the innocent touch he shared with you in the car. The thought just made you smile.

You subconsciously start to trace the patterns of your new tattoo —a tattoo you thought you'd never get if you were to be truthful.

“You realize that's my best design right?. That's it. No more freebies.” he challenged playfully only for a smirk to cross your lips.

“Guess I'll have to start paying you with bitter coffee” you strike with an attitude.

He chuckles

“Bribery,”he confessed, tilting his head, never leaving yours. “I like that in a woman.”

And to say the truth, it only made the restlessness inside you rise further. You wanted to challenge him—say something witty, disarm him like he always seemed to do with you. But the truth was: the butterflies in your stomach were causing chaos. They flapped their wings so violently, you were scared one word might send them all fluttering out your mouth.

You looked away for a second, pretending to read something off the napkin.

He leaned forward just a little, arms lazily draped along the edge of the table.

“Or…” he murmured, just low enough to be yours alone, “you could let me take you out for lunch properly sometime.”

The words caught you off guard—gentle but,

purposeful.

You blinked once. Then twice.

He asked you.

You took a slow sip of your hot chocolate just to delay your answer—but you could feel his eyes on you the entire time. Watching. Waiting.

“Is this your way of asking me on a date?” you teased, raising a brow.

He gave a small shrug, but the smirk tugging his lips betrayed him. “Is it working?”

Before you could respond, the waiter finally approached—mumbling an apology about the delay. It broke the tension like a match to water. Still, your smile lingered, even as you placed your order. Even as his fingers tapped rhythmically on the side of his coffee cup.

When the waiter left, you looked back at him—his eyes already on you.

“So?” he asked softly, voice light but hopeful.

“Will you?”

Your gaze dropped to the tiny flower on your wrist—the ink still fresh, the skin still tingling. Forget-me-not. You smiled again, slower this time.

“Only if dessert’s included,” you said, voice just as soft.

His laugh—deep and low—settled somewhere in your chest like a promise.

“I swear you're gonna poison yourself with that damn sweet stuff one day” he commented, as he took a sip of his coffee.

“And you're drying out your life by drinking that so-called-enjoyable dark liquid you call coffee” you remarked back.

You both laughed.

Not the laugh of friends kind—no. This was the kind of laughs lovers shared —in secret, inside jokes, gestures, hidden messages that only two souls could identify. To you this wasn't just anything —to you this had meaning.

"Like the-forget-me-nots he placed upon your skin like a memory,it was never to be forgotten.

Just like that night was never to be forgotten."

༶•┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈•༶

He said he wanted the first date to be perfect.

Not halfway. Not “Just dinner”.

Something you'd remember when everything blurred out.

So instead he called them “almost-dates”. The late-night drives. The bookstore runs. The shared hot chocolates and side-glances.

And for a few weeks, you let that be enough.

Because in truth… it was.

But now— here you are.

At a Barnyard.

You hadn’t expected it, honestly. Not when he picked you up that morning with a lazy smile and one hand on the wheel like he was trying to hide the nerves underneath it.

“You didn’t think I’d take you to one of those candlelit, suit-and-tie places, did you?” he said, smirking as the countryside unfurled before you both.

You were too stunned to speak, at this rate your eyes were doing the talking. The grass rolled like it was exhaling—no greenery surrounded you but instead it was: reds, yellows, browns and oranges. The colours are justified to love, passion and The wooden fences creaked. Somewhere far, a dog barked at nothing. And the smell of fresh hay and sunlight filled your lungs the second you stepped out of the car.

His sister's farm, he said.

Small, Quiet. Somewhere he used to go when the city noise got too loud.

Now, it was your noise he was learning to quiet.

You followed him past the old pickup truck, past a chicken coop that looked like it had survived three small wars, and into a wide open space where horses roamed like shadows beneath the sun.

“Don’t worry,” he murmured, glancing back at you with a grin. “They only bite if you’re sweeter than me.”

You rolled your eyes. He knew exactly what he was doing. The smirk. The teasing. The way his jacket hung off one shoulder like it had always belonged there. He was completely in his element here—free, boyish, and barefoot in a way you hadn’t seen before.

He wasn't the man you knew in the city. He was the boy you are getting to know.

You didn't know what it was but seeing him like this made you feel a part of his world —as if you were meant to be here.

“Come here, I want to introduce you to someone.”Before you could respond — his hand was already in yours.

This wasn’t the first time.

But somehow… it felt like it was.

Your red scarf fluttered against your collarbone, warming more than your neck — it was trying to hide the blush rising to your cheeks.

You let him guide you, the way wind guides leaves.

Gentle. Inevitable.It wasn’t long before you reached the stable — tall, old, wooden — the scent of hay and memory heavy in the air. He paused, just long enough to glance at you.

With one hand in yours and the other pushing open the wide doors, you stepped into a cathedral of creaks and sunlight spilling through cracked boards like golden secrets.

You gasped.

Inside were horses — elegant, still, powerful.

Chestnut, speckled, dark-eyed souls, grazing or blinking quietly beneath the beams.

“More horses?” you whispered, half in awe.

But you weren’t afraid. Not of hooves or barns or dust.

No — your fear was simpler than that.

You feared the moment his fingers would let go of yours.That fragile tether between you.

But he didn’t. He only pulled you closer. As if he could hear that fear. As if he felt it too.

“C’mere”, he murmured again, softer this time— as if the horse might just understand each and every word you two shared.

You stopped before an elegant, talk black mare with white spots pressed down her face.

“She's my favorite,” he said as he started to groom her—for some reason you couldn't help but sense the almost too boyish side of him. And it only made you happier.

“Her name is Virginia,” he added.

You tilted your head smiling. “Like the State in America?”

He nodded. “ Like the place I wanted to escape to. Thought it'd feel like freedom there. ”

Your gaze slipped from the horse to him.

“You still feel like escaping?” you asked, gently.

He didn't answer right away, he stepped closer to the mane brushing her long back—a smile on his face as she leaned into his touch.

“Some days” he finally confessed. “But… then I meet people who make me want to stay.”

Your heart stuttered.

The moment stretched. His eyes were on yours again,unreadable but full. Something between longing and hesitation. The kind of look that lives within two lovers—two souls that were about to kiss.

And maybe — just maybe — he leaned in a little.

Maybe your breath caught. Maybe your fingers curled tighter around his jacket sleeve. His eyes dropped to your lips.

But then—

A sharp huff and a nudge from Virginia’s massive head broke the moment.

Suguru stumbled back slightly with a surprised chuckle, and you laughed —too suddenly, too nervously —brushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

“She's a jealous one," he joked, gently patting the horse's muzzle.

In that moment you realize —he was indeed going to kiss you. You blinked, biting your lower lip just enough for your red scarf to protect your crimson cheeks.

“Sorry about that I…” he stopped himself —in that moment you couldn't read his thoughts but you had no idea how beautiful you looked to him in that moment. He let out a chuckle as he rubbed the back of his neck—was it a tint of red on his cheeks?

“I should probably make you something” he stated, clearing his throat—his voice much softer now. “You've been around jealous mares, ” glaring at Virginia a little too much. “and manures for hours. You deserve a decent meal”

You laughed nodding.

“I wouldn't say no to a good meal from the Suguru Geto”, you teased.

And yet again.

He grabbed your hand.

He'll always grab it from now on.

༶•┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈•༶

You walked through the door with him, greeting you both with the sweet aroma of home. His sister's house was small, a mix of rustic bones and mismatched furniture. Worn in the warm. A kettle whistled in the kitchen while he rolled up his sleeves—revealing more ink, more stories.

“My sister left for the day, she had to go take care of some business, ” he stated while he started to wash off the vegetables, you guess he assembled earlier?

Your eyes wandered, still taking in the warmth of the small yet welcoming home— the small collections of teapot sets, cook books and half written diaries. You unwrapped your red scarf and placed it gently over the banister, the wool damp with the warm mist air.

A picture caught your attention—a small smile spread across your face. You picked it up from the counter. Leaning against the archway of the kitchen with the photo in your hand, his eyes immediately scanned your figure.

“You didn’t tell me, you wore glasses back then?” you teased —and immediately he let out a long sound of beautiful memories.

“You gotta be kidding me— I told my sister to throw that away, ” he groaned of embarrassment scratching the back of his neck like it would undo the moment—but nevertheless he continued to explain why he wore glasses.

You laughed softly, cradling the picture like it was something rare. “You were kind of adorable.”

His cheeks, usually so pale and unreadable, bloomed red — the kind of blush you don’t expect from someone who looks like they’ve never blushed a day in their life. He shifted on his feet, trying not to smile but failing at the edges.

“Don’t get used to it,” he mumbled.

“Too late.”

The moment settled between you like dust in sunlight — quiet, glowing, just a little sacred.

Silence.

It was always the silence that enclosed the two of you —but this time it was like a melody that cut through crisp cold air waiting for its unspoken words to be delivered.

“I didn’t peg you as the cooking type,” you said.

He smirked, without looking up. “That’s because I only cook for people I like.”

Your stomach fluttered at the ease in his tone.

He moved through the kitchen like it was something sacred—like he wanted you to see this version of him too. The quiet one. The one who moved slower. The one who made dinner and didn’t always wear armor.

And so you watched softly, quietly for hours as he moved around as if he was telling a story—a story about his world, a story unfolding willingly.

You helped him set the table.

You watched him move with a little boyish charm tucked into each glance. And later, when the sun began to set and the plates were cleared, he poured you tea—black for him, with cream and sugar for you.

“You always drink it that way?” he asked, stirring the cup within his hand.

“Hot chocolate isn't always around, ” you teased.

He grinned tilting his head. “Sweetness, even your tea is sweet”

This time your scarf wasn't around to hide your now flushed cheeks, instead the cup of tea was the hero for the night.

Later that evening, you stood outside—just beyond the house on the little wooden steps near the barn, watching the sky —like it was bruised into twilight.

He stood behind you. Not too close.

Not yet.

“It's beautiful out here, you know” you claimed.

“You sure are, ” he whispered softly.

Like two lovers he came closer—your heartbeat thudded loudly and you were sure he could hear it. The night air held its breath with you, warm against your cheeks and scented with hay, pine and the quiet ache of wanting.

Closer— a floorboard creaked under his weight, betraying his footsteps.

And then you felt it— his hands were on your waist. Gentle,as if he was asking for permission. Like he wasn't quite sure he deserved to hold you.

Slowly you turned over your shoulder—your body betrayed you with ease in which it moved towards him, as if it had always known where it belonged. You looked up at him, your eyes meeting in a hush between seconds.

“There's no Virginia here ” he whispered softly. You could feel his breath against the flush of your skin. You wanted to laugh, but you just couldn't in this moment—the scent of black tea and cigarettes hit you like waves.

You couldn't speak.

You didn't have to.

Your breaths mingled

The space between you melted.

And then—

He kissed you

Slow. Unhurried. As if the world had given him enough time to memorize the curve of your lips. It wasn't fireworks—no this was soulfire. Quiet and consuming.

His grip around your waist tightened enough—and you, in your weakened state unsure of whether to push him away or push him away. You chose the latter.

He tasted like black tea and stolen warmth, and you finally let it consume you like the autumn leaves surrendering to the wind.

When he finally pulled back his forehead resting against yours, breath warm and steady.

“You taste like sweet tea,” he whispered as he chased your swollen lips—enough to land a chase kiss.

“And you,” you murmured back smiling, “taste like trouble”.

That burning evening, he kissed you again—maybe more than once.

The barrier that stood between you shattered like glass, soft and sudden, leaving warmth in its ruin.

For the first time, your scarlet cheeks weren’t something you had to hide behind a red scarf.

A scarf that now lay forgotten—draped across the stairs banister like something no longer needed.

You left it behind.

And maybe, just maybe, that was the moment you gave your heart away.

To be continued......

🍁 author’s note — this fic is something so close to my heart and it's something i can't explain but, if you do enjoy it comment all your thoughts down below also be on the look out for ACT ll

🍁 ꒰ ❝ special thanks ❞ ꒱

@eraserbread to the one who gently encouraged me to share this. your words gave me the quiet courage i needed — thank you 🤍

🍁 taglist 💌 — @lazyjellyfish300

📌 want to be added to my taglist for upcoming fics or for Autumns Made Us 🍂? comment down below or send me an ask ♡

©lafleurperdue. please do not copy, translate, repost, or claim my writing, art, or designs. dividers, words, and worlds belong to me. katherine , with soft ink & heavy heart 🤍

[skibasyndrome]

Hi Simon! could you please do prompt #40 ☺️

Hiii!!! Thank you so much for sending me this smut prompt, thank you for waiting!! (and sorry for making you wait) 💜💜💜

So... ever since Roo @sobadbad posted this (not quite wilmon but in spirit) shower scene gif set I've been thinking about this. I give you: Shower scene wilmon! FWB wilmon!

I hope you enjoy 💜

cw: nsfw

Read below or on AO3

Simon lets out an unceremonious yelp when his naked back connects with the cool shower tiles. He has half a mind to complain, but Wille is already on him, warm and broad and damp, half sweat, half wayward sputtering from the shower spray. And all hungry mouth, quickly swallowing Simon’s complaints, all hungry hands, slipping between the wall and Simon’s body, making it better, making it good. Simon can’t help but smile into the kiss, even through the moan that’s punched out of him when Wille fully slots his body against Simon’s. Even when they’re so horny they’re forgetting themselves, Wille knows just what to do. Knows how to angle them in the small stall, so they can keep making out, unhindered by water rushing down and fogging up the air they’re sucking in, in between kisses.

They're not usually reckless like this. Their moments of… this, of them crashing together, of working out the daily stresses, of channelling every bit of frustration and maybe some loneliness, at least on Simon’s part, of seeking out comfort and companionship and relief and fun; they usually happen neatly hidden away. In Wille's dorm room, curtains drawn, after classes, or Simon's bedroom, when Wille gets granted a rare Saturday off the Hillerska premises. There’s a clear distinction between the them that’s for public spaces, that’s okay for others to see, that’s look and feels a lot like comfortable acquaintanceship, timid friendship, steadily growing less and less timid as time went on, and this. This them, that’s hot tongues and fingernails digging into backs and bodies moving like it’s everything they’ve ever done, and beautiful needy sounds that Simon feels secretly possessive over.

But today is... different. Today feels decidedly out of the ordinary, feels like they’ve lost their scrips and rewritten their roles. And Simon doesn’t think he’s ever wanted Wille quite this badly.

Simon could've predicted it, has felt an unnerving kind of crackling between them all throughout their training session. Every time their fingers brushed on the barbell bar and Wille seemingly leaned into the touch, whenever Simon sat down on the rowing machine, Wille's hand burning through the thin fabric of his shirt where it was pressed against the small of his back.

An unspoken understanding between them, silently agreeing to take their time cleaning up the gym afterwards, with their teammates slowly filing out through the door. A foreboding heaviness settling deep in the pit of Simon’s stomach when they rolled the parallel bars back into the storage space, exchanging looks and smiles and inaudible promises.

Their joint relief upon walking into the locker room with deliberately slowed steps, a mischievous glance exchanged when they found it already almost deserted, their slow stripping, backs turned, while they waited out their last teammates leaving.

Simon moans against Wille’s tongue, fingers finding their way into his damp hair. It's like the tension is worse today, like even the feeling of Wille's skin, glorious and naked and warm and more and more slick with water, pressing against his isn't enough to take off the edge. The normally impermeable wall between the Simon that gets to have and gets to want Wille like this, and the version of him that nods and smiles and jokes like he doesn’t know what Wille’s body feels like under his, is gone and long forgotten. A ludicrous thought crosses Simon’s mind, unfounded and yet hard to ignore. In this very moment, Simon isn’t even sure anymore if the wall ever really existed. 

Wille breaks away and Simon scrambles to pull him in again, but Wille moves his lips down Simon’s cheek and towards his ear.

“You looked so hot out there,” he breathes, in this voice that Simon deludes himself is reserved for him alone. He only tightens his grip on Wille’s hair.

“Yeah?”

It’s half a laugh, half a breathy plea for Wille to double down. 

They don’t do this. Wille doesn’t hold back on compliments, of course not, he’s quick to compliment Simon’s singing, his song lyrics, his good essays. But that’s the other Wille, not the one that’s-

“Fuck,” Simon drops his head against Wille’s shoulder when Wille wraps a hand around his cock, sliding easily with warm water running down his arm.

The Wille who knows how to stroke Simon to full hardness in a few seconds, the one that looks so so so pretty on his knees with Simon in his mouth, is not the Wille that gives his friend compliments. They don’t do this.

“So hot,” Wille adds, and peppers a line of kisses down the side of Simon’s neck. Simon only gasps. He desperately tries to buck his hips into Wille’s touch, but remains firmly pinned against the tiles by Wille leaning his weight on Simon’s thigh. And as if Simon isn’t already losing his mind a little, as if their kissing and grinding and touching out here and the heated air of the shower isn’t already making him feel lightheaded enough, Wille goes on.

“You always look so good…,” he mumbles, quiet and dampened by Simon’s skin, but still painfully clear to his ears. A sudden rush of heat has Simon trembling.

He only hums, unsure what the fuck else he’s supposed to do. Unsure what the fuck changed and why he so desperately needs Wille to mean it, needs both Willes to mean it.

But his body has its own mind, muscle memory tiding him over the confusing rush inside of his head. His hand easily finds its way down Wille’s body, palm sliding over slick skin and the firm muscles underneath, over Wille’s soft belly, sucked in with a quiet breath. Just as he feels the coarse hair against his fingertips, Wille wraps his fingers around his wrist, moving him further down.

“Need you,” Wille whispers between kisses, and Simon lets out a desperate sound when Wille runs the pad of his thumb over the head of his cock on a downstroke.

“Me too,” he replies, too loud maybe, and takes Wille into his hand.

So badly, he thinks, allowing himself a moment to revel in the weight of Wille’s cock in his hand, the soft, soft skin, the heat, the sparks rushing through his belly at every single one of Wille’s movements. Wille’s grip on his wrist tightens when Simon starts to move.

Wille’s strokes falter, he interrupts himself with a beautiful, wonderful, moan that… Simon’s cheeks heat up, head spinning, when he recognizes his name in the sound.

At once, everything else is forgotten, everything about who they are or what they aren’t, any limits to what this can be, every silly rule he’s ever tried to put in place for himself. Simon wants to make Wille falls apart, he wants to see it, wants to hear it, wants to feel it, wants to wash him clean afterwards, wants Wille to slump his tired, exhausted body against his, he wants-

A loud clatter towards the other end of the room startles them apart. Simon freezes, gears in his head turning and, horrifyingly, identifying the sound as the door being pushed open.

Too good to be true, it was all too fucking good to be true. He shouldn’t have dared to hope they could get away with this, could get away with something as stupid, as reckless, as fucking idiotic…

He hears steps slowly approaching. Then, a loud call of Wille’s name.

Strangely enough, Wille crowds closer against Simon, doesn’t let go of him. As if he could shield Simon from whoever is going to find them. As if that wouldn’t make a difficult to explain situation even worse. There’s no use hiding, Simon wants to say. Not with the water running, not with them staying back.

“What’s taking you so long?” the voice, Simon thinks it might be Henry, calls out. “Hurry up!”

So that must mean…

Twisting his head around, Wille answers.

“Coming!” he yells.

Simon’s body is quicker than his mind, snickering at the word choice. Before he can stop himself, Wille already firmly clasps a hand over his mouth.

That’s… Something.

Pinned against the tiles, one of Wille’s hands on his mouth, the other still on his cock - Simon swallows hard against the tightness in his throat.

Wille’s eyes dart from his hand on Simon’s mouth up to Simon’s eyes and down again, seemingly equally affected.

A second passes before he seems to shake himself out of it.

“Just… you can leave without me,” he yells, without really turning his head. “I’ll join later.”

A longer stretch of silence gives Simon just enough time to panic again, rattle his brain for excuses, explanations, something to justify why they’re crammed in a stall in the community showers, hands in compromising positions, lips and cheeks pink.

At the sound of more steps, Simon’s stomach drops, but he quickly realized that it worked, that Henry is walking away.

He waits until the door closes again, equally loud and startling sound, but so, so relieving this time around. As soon as he thinks the coast is clear, Wille drops his hand, apology somewhere in the unsteady look of his eyes. And as soon as Simon’s heart has slowed, is no longer hammering pressure against his temples, he lets out a laugh, loud and unguarded.

“Coming,” Simon mocks, still incredulous that it worked and squeezes Wille’s cock just to watch Wille’s eyes roll back and falls closed.

“Leave without me,” he tries again, now fully laughing, and Wille presses closer, traps both of their arms between their bodies. He lets out a long groan that sounds like frustration and embarrassment. And it’s so, so endearing.

This is Simon’s friend Wille, the one that jokes with him during lunch breaks. Except it’s also the Wille that softly kisses Simon’s shoulder. And has never once let go of his cock.

“Sorry,” Wille mumbles, this one almost too quiet to hear over the water rushing. “I forgot they wanted to go out for pizza…” He sounds embarrassed still, and regretful as well.

Simon swallows. He’s used to this. He knows it’s what they do, the boarders, spend time together, one way or another. He knows he’s not one of them, will never be one of them, frankly, doesn’t fucking want to, not one bit. And apparently, sometimes, like just now, his being essentially invisible to them can pay off. But there’s no downplaying the tiny, miniscule sting that always comes when it’s time for Wille to put on his public self again, the one that hangs out with his peers, without Simon. It’s a stupid, ridiculous, selfish thought to have, Simon knows that. They’ve laid done these implicit rules, this barrier between Simon and Wille who make out and fuck, and Simon and Wille who talk at school, but then go their separate ways. So he clears his throat, plastering on a hopefully casual smile.

“Guess we should finish up quickly, then, huh,” he suggests when Wille’s head comes up again, when Wille takes a tiny step back, reintroducing space between them. Simon hopes his tone is as light as he intended.

But Wille looks… strange. Wistful, maybe. Nothing like his hungry, wonderful, smiley earlier self. Simon’s eyes catch on his mouth, bottom lip sucked in between his teeth.

“Don’t wanna go with them.”

Wille’s hands are gone suddenly, leaving Simon bereft for all but a moment before Wille is skating them over Simon’s sides instead, slowly moving up and down, as if to soothe Simon, or maybe himself.

“You don’t?”

Simon vaguely knows that Wille gets annoyed with the guys sometimes, but he’s been under the impression that, despite it all, they’re friends. Maybe better friends than Simon and Wille are, even if the sex is blurring the lines and making things seem more meaningful than they probably are.

But Wille is shaking his head, avoiding Simon’s eyes to instead watch his hands mover over Simon’s body. There’s something he isn’t saying, Simon can tell. And so he mirrors Wille’s movements, regretfully lets go of him to instead let his palms slide over Wille’s soft skin.

Wille has so many moles on his body, Simon would think it’s funny if he wasn’t so helplessly attracted to them, the way they look like constellations that are meant to be traced. Slowly, Simon brushed his thumb over Wille’s nipple, just because he can, because he wants to seize the opportunity of having Wille naked like this in front of him.

Wille sucks in a sharp breath. But the way he grabs Simon just the tiniest bit more tightly is reassuring.

“I, I meant to ask,” Wille clears his throat, just as Simon lifts his eyes again. There’s a charming red tint to his face and his neck. Simon wonders if that’s from earlier, or if this is new.

“Meant to ask if you wanted to stay over,” he rushes out, all in one go.

Simon only blinks up at him, waiting for the words to settle in and make sense.

“What?” he starts with. “Like… in your room?”

That sounds unlikely. Because they don’t do that. Even Wille’s trips to Bjärstad don’t end in sleepovers. They very deliberately end before that, because anything else has always felt like it would warrant more of an explanation than either of them would be willing to give.

But Wille nods, slowly, looking bashful, but with the slightest smile tugging on his lips. 

“Yeah?” Wille says, still not looking at Simon. “I thought we could, like, hang out maybe?”

Huh, Simon thinks.

“Huh,” he says out loud. And finally Wille meets his eyes.

There’s an earnestness there, a shyness that Simon isn’t used to. It’s disarming, it’s wonderful, it makes his insides tickle with a strange feeling.

When Wille doesn’t say anything else, just raises a hand to Simon’s forehead, brushing a clumped up, wet curl out of his face, Simon leans into the touch with a smile.

“Would love to,” he says and gets to watch in real time how a grin spreads out on Wille’s face.

“Cool,” Wille says, and Simon feels anything but cool. But he nods. And tilts his head back when Wille steps closer and captures his mouth in a slow kiss that feels… new… different. Promising.

When they break apart, Simon becomes aware of just how close they’re standing again. Carefully, he pushes his hips forwards, carefully presses his weight against where they’re both half hard. Because, with this new thing, he’s just not sure if this is the them that’s happening today. Wille makes a sound, somewhere between a sigh and a moan. His arms move around Simon’s back again, warm and wet and comforting.

“So beautiful,” Wille mumbles, and it’s a punch to Simon’s stomach.

So… maybe…

He doesn’t get to ask, because Wille is loosening his grip and turning away.

“Can I wash you?” Wille asks instead and Simon feels another new flutter in his chest. After his nod, Wille reaches for his body wash, the one that smells stupidly expensive, the one that is intrinsically linked to Wille in Simon’s mind, cedar wood and vanilla, and starts lathering up Simon’s shoulders, his arms, his chest.

Simon isn’t used to this, to the feeling of someone else washing him, but he sighs, eventually giving in to his eyelids falling closed as he relishes the feeling of Wille’s hands on him. He sighs, lifts his arms up for Wille to lather up his pits, hums happily when Wille brushes his hands down over his thighs and the outside of his legs.

“Nice,” he says quietly, it’s out before he thinks about, but when he opens his eyes to check if it’s okay Wille is nodding, sending him a smile.

After a short moment of hesitation, Wille runs his soapy hand over Simon’s flaccid cock, a little lower to get to his balls. It’s not enough to bring him back again, not yet, but there’s a warm little flush to his lower body, especially when Simon looks down on himself, watching Wille’s hand on him.

Once he’s done, he pulls Simon closer, wraps his arms around him in a hug that has some of the body wash rubbing off on Wille. Simon is about to make a joke, something about Wille not daring to think he can get away with some flimsy second-hand soap after training with weights, but then Simon feels Wille’s hands settle on top of his ass. Wille hesitates. Simon sucks in a long breath.

“May I?” Wille asks then, and traces the curve of Simon’s ass cheek with a single finger.

Simon nods desperately. Oh god.

The Wille that has asked him to hang out is also the Wille that is asking if he can wash Simon’s ass for him.

“Yeah,” the breathes quietly, widening his stance for Wille to have better access.

When he finally feels Wille’s soapy finger slip between his cheeks, he keens. Wille is moving carefully, but he knows what he’s doing, knows because he knows Simon’s body, even if this is entirely new. He’s so gentle with it, really taking his time as he’s rubbing his finger over Simon’s hole. He’s holding him open with one hand, kissing the shoulder he’s looking over in between his movements, letting Simon claw his fingers into his back. When he breaches the rim, Simon lets out a broken little sound, but stays put, lets Wille clean him. For himself, for later, for the both of them. Simon shivers in Wille’s arms.

“Okay?”

Simon nods, unable to make another sound. He’s hard again, or most of the way there, feels like his entire back is covered in goose bumps. 

This is so far from the usual fervor and the rush of them having sex, so far from the giggling hurried hand jobs and from hidden away blow jobs he’s had to bite his hand through to stay silent. This is Wille, one of them, all of them, taking his time, touching Simon slowly and intimately, before they’re going to make their way across the premises, together, towards Wille’s room. Where he wants him to stay.

When Wille turns his head again, slowly, almost apologetically pulling out of Simon, their lips crash together once again. And it’s a promise.

Feel free to send me some prompts from that list, or just make some up <3 Or read my other ficlets here

also pls let me know what you think <3

[theladybarnes]

CRIMSON AND CLOVER: CHAPTER ELEVEN

“What is mordor?”

▸ summary: it’s time to get their asses back in the search, but some feelings get in the way ▸ characters: Steve harrington 🩷, Eddie Munson, Robin Buckley, Nancy Wheeler, Dustin Henderson, ft. LuMax ▸ word count: 7.0k ▸ warnings: angst, fluff,  ▸ series masterlist

The sounds of Joan Jett’s melodious voice played softly in your ear as your eyes scanned out the road, trying to relax. The backseat of Nancy’s car had become pretty tight after you were put to sit in the middle rather than the back of the trunk. After this morning’s fiasco, Dustin forced you to squeeze in with Max and Lucas rather than join him and Steve in the back.

 Something the two of you decided was fair considering what he walked into wasn’t the best thing to witness. Though, if anyone in the group were brave enough to ask, you’d tell them that at least the two of you had gotten some of your clothes back on before you fell back into bed. 

 Robin mentioned it was better than almost seeing Steve’s ass. That was pretty embarrassing. 

 Max said it was better than waking up for water and hearing you two in the middle of the night. That was really embarrassing.

 “Not to be a wimp, but can I sit in the car? ‘Cause this is gonna totally and royally suck.” you heard Robin blurt out from the front seat. There was a hint of anxiety in her voice that had you pushing down your head phones, ready to reel her in. 

 “It’ll be fine.” Nancy said calmly, but also very tired.

 Robin glanced at you in the back, a hesitant look on her face. “I just can’t stand to see those doe eyes of Eddie’s break again. I really, really can’t.”

 From behind you, Steve spoke up quickly, forgetting to finish chewing a chip from the bag he and Dustin were sharing. “At least he can drink himself into feeling better.” he munched, clinking the case of beer he bought that morning.

 “That’s what my Mom does.” Max added in.

 “We’re clearly the right type of people to give this man bad news.” you sighed tiredly, pinching the bridge of your nose.

 “Why don’t we just give it a trial run?” Robin suggested, oddly trying to stay optimistic. “‘Hey, Eddie. Uh, good news first this time. We got you some Dustin-approved junk food and that six-pack you requested..Oh yeah! And we found Vecna. Only the bad news is that he’s in the other, darker, much scarier dimension that we told you about. And the gates closed so we have no way of getting to him. Like, he’s entirely shut off to us, so basically you’re screwed. And, no, no, I know that you were already screwed, but now you’re like doubly, triply screwed.”

 Lucas couldn’t help himself as he interjected the madness that Robin was falling into. Holding a hand out towards her. “Wait, wait, wait. Maybe we don’t put it like that.”

 “Maybe we don’t let her talk to him.” you said, eyeing your friend worriedly.

 “‘We’re one step closer to finding Vecna.’” Nancy said, calming the group down. “That’s what we say. That’s what’s important.”

 The sound of crunching again pulled you out from Nancy’s reassurance to cast Steve a dirty look. “See, Robin? Positive spin can make all the difference.” he added, still choosing to talk while eating. 

 “Closing your mouth while chewing would make all the difference.” you said, chastising. He gave you a feigned look of shock before pushing another chip into his mouth. Smirking at you a little bit after another big crunch. It was childish and stupid, but had you smiling back.

 “Oh shit..”

 All of you in the back turned your attention to where Nancy’s reaction came from. Down the road, as the car approached the Lipton Boat House, the sight of police cars, media vans, and a growing crowd were what you were met with. A chill ran down your spine and you leaned forward to peek out as best as you could. 

 As soon as the car was parked, all of you quickly piled out, curious to hear and see what was happening now. “C’mon, this way.” Nancy urged, already having found the right spot to investigate. 

 Moving in behind the news van, the group leaned close, just in time to hear Sheriff Powell as he gave an update to the press. “..the Roane County line received a call, uh, a little after midnight, reporting a homicide here on the lake.”

 Homicide? You thought, frowning.

 “Officer Callahan here and myself arrived first on the scene. We made our way to the shore of Lover’s Lake, about ten yards from that house you see behind me. It was there that we found the victim, an eighteen year old Senior from Hawkins High, Patrick McKinney.”

 Glancing to your side and you watched as Lucas’s face turned crestfallen. The two of them were on the same team. All of you just saw him the other night at the game. How could he be dead? Wasn’t it just you and Max left? What more did he need?

 A hand quickly engulfed yours and you turned your gaze away to see that it was Steve. His eyes looked down at yours as he took the news in. Most likely more worried than ever. Turning your hand over, you laced your fingers together and allowed him to pull you closer. Giving your hand a squeeze in appreciation.

 “..We have also identified a person of interest..Eddie Munson.” You felt the blood leave your face as Powell called out the one name none of you wanted to hear. Next he held up a photo taken from the year book, giving the whole world a face to match their next hunt. “We encourage anyone with information to please come forward.”

 “No.” you whispered, your grip on Steve’s hand vice-like now. Beside you, he couldn’t help but realize the gravity of the situation now too. 

 “Oh man,” he muttered. “This is not good. This is really not good.”

 Your eyes met his with more worry. There was no chance in stopping the panic that slowly seeped into your body. How the hell were you guys going to save Eddie if now the whole town would be looking for him? The radio cut the silence between the group as Eddie’s voice broke through.

 “Dustin, can you hear me? Wheeler?”

 Your cousin scrambled for the radio in his backpack, all of you following closely to listen to the conversation away from the crowd. 

 “Eddie. Holy shit.” Dustin exclaimed softly into the walkie. “Are you okay?”

 “Nah, man. Pretty..Pretty goddamn far from okay.” 

 There was an unfamiliar pain and stress in Eddie’s voice that you never heard before, it tugged at your heart fiercely. You gripped at Steve’s hand again, letting your panic seep through there.

 “Where is he?” Robin asked.

 “Where are you?”

 “Skull Rock. Do you know it?’

 “Uh, yeah that’s near Cornwallis and–’

 “Garrett, yeah, I know where that is.” Steve interrupted, cutting through everyone to lead the group back to the car. “Come on,” he called over his shoulder. “I know the way.”

 It was a pain in the ass to make it through the uneven flooring of the woods near Skull Rock. While you were smart enough to have taken shoes comfortable enough for walking, you still ended up nearly tripping sometimes. Making Steve glance over ready to help, you waved him off, letting him return to bickering with Dustin.

 “Dude, I’m telling you, you’re taking us the wrong way.” he said, already disgruntled.

 “It’s north. I’m positive. I checked the map.” Dustin said, holding up the map and his compass.

 “You do realize Skull Rock, it’s a super popular make-out spot?”

 “Yeah. So?”

 “Yeah, well, it wasn’t popular until I made it popular.” Steve said, as matter of fact. “All right? I practically invented it.”

 “Oh?” you asked, coming near to them now. The last words of his sounding awfully like boasting. “Because I’ve only been here twice with you.” 

 Steve stopped walking and looked at you with wide eyes. “Uh, right! Well, uh..I came here only twice with you..” he trailed off, looking away from you. There was a pink hue over his cheeks now and you couldn’t help but narrow your eyes at him.

 “Why don’t you explain how you made it so popular?” you asked, raising a brow. 

 “Oops! We need to go this way. We’re heading in the wrong direction.” he said deflecting your question to lead the group down another path. Dustin looked around in confusion, shaking his head at Steve’s path line.

 “Steve!” he called out. “Where are you going? Steve!”

 “Stop whining. Let’s go. Trust me.” he waved, frustration returning to his annoyed voice again. You could only shake your head at them as you carefully followed the new path. Robin and Nancy eventually joined at your side, quietly talking about mundane things before the sounds of Max and Lucas talking perked up in your ears. You couldn’t help but find their small moment wholesome.

 These two didn’t need to have so much trouble at their young age, but you were so happy to know they still had each other after everything.

 “Oh my God, they’re so adorable. I just wanna squeeze ‘em you know?” Robin cooed, looking over at you at Nancy. “If I’m permitted to see a silver lining in this end-of-the-world doom and gloom, it would be the rekindling of some old flames that frankly, never should’ve been snuffed out.”

 You and Nancy both gave each other a confused look before you turned to Robin.

 “I didn’t mean that as a hint or anything.” 

 “Is that so?” you chuckled softly, giving her a look.

 “But if I did mean it as a hint, would that be so terrible? I mean, to wish for happiness for my friends?”

 “Oh quit the vague act, Buckley.” you said crossing your arms. “Just ask.”

 To your surprise it’s Nancy who breaks first. “So what’s the deal?” she spat out.

 “Yeah, you two together or not. I’m so confused.” Robin sighed.

 You let out a long sigh as well and looked ahead of you three. The receding figure of Steve was clear in your sight as you tried to think of an answer that fit right. Beside you, Nancy let out a small chuckle.

 “Let me guess, it’s complicated?” she asked sarcastically. Earning an eye roll from you.

 “Well, you take the cake on complicated relationships.” you countered, needing to have her step off a bit. But from the flicker of hurt in her blue eyes, you immediately regret the burst. “Look, sorry..it’s just you have been a bit off since the whole Jonathan not coming back here for spring break.”

 “I concur.” Robin said slowly, earning a look from Nancy now. “It’s just, the other day at the library, I mentioned Jonathan and you sort of flinched or winced or something like–”

 “I didn’t flinch or wince.” Nancy cut in quickly. Her face scrunched up a bit at the sudden accusations from you two. 

 “Okay.” Robin shook her head quickly.

 “Jonathan and I are fine.” 

 “Got it.”

 “We’re good!”

 “Right.”

 You couldn’t help but tilt your head at her, seeing quickly through her facade. Her eyes narrowed at you and you simply offered her a small smile. “Nancy, we know you care about Jonathan. Robin is just laying the floor open for honesty if you want..” you reassured her.

 She winced again, possibly embarrassed by her reaction before she subtly nodded her head.

 “It’s just..” she sighed, turning to lead the three of you back to walking as she slowly spilled her guts. “He was supposed to be there for the break, and then he backed out at the last minute for some vague, mumbly Jonathan reason. And, to be honest, I’m not that surprised because I’ve been feeling him pulling away. And I don’t know if it’s because we’re two thousand miles away or if he met someone new or what. And now, I can’t find out why because apparently he’s blown up his family’s house phone or something. So yeah, if..if the mention of his name caused a slight muscle spasm on my face, that’s..probably why.”

 For a second, you couldn’t help but sympathize with Nancy. All her worries and insecurities were very much the reasons why you broke things off with Steve in the first place. And this was just the view of a high school relationship! What would happen in college? These two were your friends and it hurt to know that they might be going through what you had feared.

 Glancing at Robin, you looked to her to help ease the tension.

 “Seems like a perfectly reasonable reason to flinch, wince, or something.” she said soothingly. Causing Nancy to smile just a little bit. You let out a tiny relieved breath as the tension between you three lifted.

 “You said, ‘the happiness of your friends.’ So..does that make us friends?” Nancy said, looking over at Robin shyly. “As in, officially?”

 For some reason, that had Robin slightly taken back. Probably not expecting Nancy to initiate that kind of part of the conversation with her. 

 “Uh, yeah. I..I mean, right?”

 “Right.” Nancy said, her lips upturned in her pleased smirk.

 It gave you such a big reassurance to know that even if you were gone, there’d still be people behind who had each other. You reached out to wrap an arm around both their shoulders, bringing them close as you hugged them. “I’m so glad you girls are finally friends! I was so worried I’d be torn in half one of these days.” you said dramatically, earning groans of annoyance from both sides.

 “Here we go..” Nancy muttered. 

 “It’s like she needs to ruin the moment.” Robin chuckled. 

 But amidst their complaints you could still see the smile they were trying very hard to hide.

 “Trouble!” Steve called out to you, earning your attention. You gave the girls pats to their backs before you jogged forward to find where Steve was waiting for you. He gave you a warm look before he pressed through the thick bushes before him.

 “Oh boom! Bada bing, bada boom. There she is, Henderson. Skull Rock!” he said, holding the branches so that you could get through. But even through his chivalry, he still had room to gloat to Dustin about being right. “In your face, man. In your stupid, cocky little face.”

 “We get it, Steve. It’s that dumb rock.” you laughed as you followed closely behind him, taking another look up at the familiar rock structure. A glance over your shoulder and you could see Dustin frown down at his compass.

 “Doesn’t make sense.”

 “Don’t engage.” you muttered in a plea to Steve. 

 But he held up his hand instead, mimicking Dustin for mocking effect. “Yeah, yeah. Even with it staring you right in the face, you can’t admit it. You just can’t admit that you’re wrong, you little butthead.”

 There was a sudden loud drop on the ground that had you flinch back instantly. You reached out to grab Dustin in fear. Eddie, who jumped down from the higher ground, gave you three a tired look. 

 “I concur,” he said coolly. “You, Dustin Henderson are a..total butthead.”

 Dustin was instantly relieved at the sight of Eddie. “Jesus, we thought you were a goner.” he said as he pulled him into a hug. 

 “Yeah, me too, man.” he sighed, wrapping his arms around him to hug him back before he let go. “Me too.”

 He gave a brief nod to Steve before his eyes found yours. You know there’s enough tension between the three of you already but you couldn’t help as you reached over to hug him tightly. “Don’t scare me like that again.” you warned him, pressing your face to his shoulder.

 He chuckled a bit, hugging you tightly before gently pushing you back. “Might have to if I’m getting hugs like this.” 

 The others finally caught up and you stepped back enough with a small as you moved to stand closer to Steve. He had a slight glare in his gaze towards Eddie. Not quite as hateful as before, but not entirely pleased. That is until he noticed you catching him and decided to offer a small smile.

 “Alright,” Robin clapped as the group circled around Eddie. “Tell us about last night..”

 “..When I got to the shore, I tried calling you guys, but, uh..” Eddie paused to take a swig of water from the water canister. “..my walkie was busted, man. Drenched. So, uh, I did the thing that I do now, apparently..I ran.” he ended with a sad chuckle. 

 You cast a worried glance at him, practically feeling the nerves and anxiety in his tone. 

 “Do you know what time this was? The attack?” Nancy spoke up.

 “Yeah, no, I..I know exactly what time it was.” he stuttered a bit as he began to slowly undo the latch on his watch. “My walkie wasn’t the only thing that got soaked.’

 He chucked the watch in her direction and she turned the side over to reveal the time on top. “Nine twenty-seven.” she read out.

“Same time our flashlights went kablooey.” Robin noted.

 Beside you, you could see Steve’s face frown as he tried to piece it together. “Which means what, exactly?” he asked.

 “That that surge of energy was Vecna attacking Patrick.” Nancy answered.

 “It was all happening at the same time.” you murmured, crossing your arms over your chest.

 Robin placed her hands on her hips. “Well, we’re one step closer. We know how Vecna attacks.”

 “And where he attacks from.” Lucas added. 

 “So, now we just need to sneak into his lair in the Upside Down and drive a stake through his heart.” Max concluded.

 Robin looked skeptic as she shook her head. “If he even has a heart.”

 “A stake? Is he like a vamp? Is he a vampire?” Steve asked with genuine concern and confusion.

 Max was quick to correct him. “It was a metaphor.”

 “A bullet should work on him, right?” Eddie chimed in.

 “I say we chop his head off.” Lucas nodded.

 “I’d say all of the above, but we can’t do any of that until we find a way into the Upside Down.” Nancy said as she looked between the group. 

 “Not to mention we’d need, like, a magical dream bullet.” you frowned, trying to think of an alternative fight. 

 “We need El to get her powers back.” Max said both desperately as well as annoyed.

 Steve gave a slow nod as he glanced at Eddie to explain. “Everything was way easier. We had this girl. She had superpowers–”

 “Superpowers.” He cut in. “Yeah, you mentioned her.”

 You gave Steve a sympathetic pat for trying to help keep things up to date. From the corner of your eyes, you could see Eddie as he watched Dustin worriedly. He’s been pacing and looking around for a few minutes now, but you were so used to his oddities, you didn’t think much about it.

 “Hey, uh, Henderson’s not, uh, cursed, is he?’

 “Cursed? No, no, no, no. He’s fine.” Steve quickly reassured him. “Mental? Absolutely.” he said with a tired look. 

 “It’s the other Henderson you’d have to worry about.” Lucas said offhandedly, not aware of how close you and Eddie were as he nodded towards you. 

 For a moment, Eddie’s brows furrowed together. His lips parted to question what Lucas went when Dustin suddenly yelled out.

 “BOOM!”

 The seven of you stared at him with wide curious looks. He raised a pointed finger up in Steve’s direction as he got closer.

 “Bada..bada..boom.” he whispered.

 Steve looked over at Dustin with a frown as his arms crossed over his chest.

 “I was right.” That earned him a big eye roll next. “Skull Rock was North!”

 “Seriously? You’re serious?”

 “Mm-hmm.”

 You inhaled deeply, not quite prepared for the two of them to begin bickering again. “I liked it better when he was pacing.” you said softly, leaning your head on Robin’s shoulder. She gave your arm a light pat as they continued on.

 “This is Skull Rock! Okay?” Steve yelled as he gestured to the rock pile.

 “Mm-hmm.”

 “You’re totally, absolutely, one hundred percent wrong. RIGHT NOW.”

 “Yes.” he agreed as he leaned forward. “And no.”

 “Oh my God.” Steve said as he covered his eyes, you attempted to reach out and calm him down. But with Dustin still talking, you knew it was only going to get worse.

 “This compass worked correctly when we left the Wheelers’.” he said, holding the small tool up. “It was correct when we got in the car on Kerley. But it started to slip the further east we went. Now it’s way off. When I was leading us here, I wasn’t wrong. The compass was.”

 “So you’re using faulty equipment. Dude, you’re still wrong!” Steve interjected, standing ground.

 Dustin, however, had a very familiar, a very annoying glint in his eye.

 “Except it isn’t faulty.” he said, holding a finger up. “Lucas, do you remember what can affect a compass?”

 Lucas scratched behind his head before the memory seemed to spring on him. “An electromagnetic field!” 

 “Yep.” Dustin smirked.

 Robin’s face scrunched up slightly at their words. “I’m sorry, I must’ve skipped that class.” she said sarcastically, wanting a more in depth explanation. 

 “In the presence of a stronger electromagnetic field, the needle will deflect towards that power. So either there’s some super big magnet around here, or..”

 “There’s a gate.” Lucas finished. 

 “Wait, wait.” you said holding your hands up, your stomach feeling anxious from the memory chiming in. “This happened before, back when I first came to Hawkins. It was because of the lab, wasn’t it?”

 Dustin nodded at you. “Exactly like that.”

 “But we’re nowhere near the lab.” Nancy pointed out.

 “And that gate is fully closed. Hopper saw to that.” you followed.

 Dustin’s response only left you feeling more dread than just the reminder. “But what if, somehow, there’s another gate?” he asked the group. “A gate that we don’t know about. It’d have to be smaller. Way less powerful.” 

 “Snack-size gate.” Robin offered.

 “How? Why?” Steve spoke up.

 “No idea. All I know is that something is causing this disturbance, and the last time we’ve seen anything like it, it was a gate. And I hope it is, because then we’d have a way to Vecna. And a shot at freeing these two from this curse.” he said, looking over at you for a moment until he turned to lead down the pathway of the hill.

 “Where are you going?” Steve asked instantly, a motherly annoyance in his voice. “Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey! Eddie’s still a wanted man. We can’t just go for a hike in the woods.”

 “This little steel capsule might be the key to saving both of those girls and Eddie.” Dustin said , holding up the compass again before looking past Steve to address Eddie in the back. “What say you, Eddie the Banished?”

 All of you turned to the man, still crouched on the floor. He had been quiet during this whole back and forth and you noticed the slight hesitancy in his gaze as he took in Dustin’s words. 

 “I’d say you’re asking me to follow you into Mordor,” he started slowly. “..which, if I’m totally straight with you, I think it’s a really bad idea.”

 Beside you, Steve nodded his head in agreement. Glad to see Eddie think logically. But the next words out of Eddie’s mouth shut that idea down quickly. 

 “But, uh, the Shire..The Shire is burning.”

 “Oh God.” you muttered, closing your eyes. This was from that stupid cartoon they were nerding out over. The annoyance between you and Steve grew even more when you noticed Dustin begin to hop excitedly, sensing Eddie’s swayed decision.

 Slowly, he rose up from the ground with a look of determination on his face. He nodded his head slightly toward Dustin. “So Mordor it is.”

 Everyone took that as the signal to get going, following down the path towards Dustin. It was only you and Steve that stayed behind. From your side you heard as he grumbled out his confusion.

 “What is Mordor?” he asked, shaking his head as he reached out for your hand.

 “Need a moment to unpause?” you asked softly as you stood before him. He smiled slightly and nodded his head. Without a word, you leaned up and pressed your lips up against his, letting him savor the small moment until you pulled back again to push back the hair from his face. Giving him a sympathetic look. “You need to relax.”

 “The kid stresses me out, Trouble.” He sighed heavily. 

 “I know, but we gotta let him help. He has too much to lose.” you said, glancing behind Steve to see Eddie coming back for his stuff. Looking a little sheepish for interrupting the conversation. 

 “Get your stuff, dude. Let’s go.” he said, leading the three of you to move forward to join the others. Things would simply have to pause again.

 For now.

 As you all trailed behind Dustin, the sun slowly began to set into the evening. Bringing a warm blanket of light to cover until the eventual darkness would set in. At some point, you found yourself stuck between following close behind the group or staggering behind alone.

 The tape player clicked as the song ended, giving you the chance to hear as Eddie stalked up beside you. His hands tucked deep inside his jacket as he peeked a glance at you. You pushed down on the rewind before looking up to him with your brow raised.

 “Dustin told me a little bit of what’s going on with you..”

 “Right,” you nodded. “Well, I hate to say you’ve unfortunately missed out on a lot of updates in the group.”

 There was a moment of silence, he breathed heavily through his nose before he looked down at the ground. “I’m sorry,” he said quickly, closing his eyes as he shook his head. “I can’t believe this is happening to you too.”

 “Why are you sorry?” You chuckled a little awkwardly. “It’s not like Vecna picked me personally because of you.”

 “Yeah, but you’re out there, trying to help me with these guys and dealing with this curse shit.” he said, sounding breathless as he rubbed a hand over his face. “I just feel like–”

 “Don’t,” you cut in, holding your hand up. “We’re all working together about it..”

 He raised a brow at you, leaning back a little curious as he took in your words. “Well, speaking of working together, you and Harrington seem to be working out quite fine.” 

 That had you chuckling awkwardly again. Looking away and down at the ground momentarily until you glanced behind you to see Steve as he walked not too far back. A curious look pulled on his eyes as he watched you two closely observing him.

 “We’re on pause from being complicated.”

 “That’s such a girl answer.” he scoffed a bit.

 “Well,” you went on, ignoring the jab. “We have a lot that we need to fix on top of this Vecna mess. It’s kind of just overwhelming.” You explained, trying to make it sound as logical as you could. “So, we’re pausing ourselves and focusing on saving Max.”

 “And you.” he added.

 “And me.. and you too.”

 “So pausing but also stealing a couple of kisses from each other?” he smirked a bit. “Or did I walk in on an unpausing moment?”

 “Don’t be a dick.” you grumbled, giving him a slight shove.

 He took a glance ahead again, an amusing smirk tugged on his lips. “Fine, if you guys are on pause, then I guess that means you’re single, right?” he teased, reaching up to pinch at your chin gently. Almost trying to lure you in for a kiss.

 The urge to hit him came quickly but you chose to laugh instead. It was just like Eddie to actually say things that were silly enough to distract you from the real world stuff that felt like too much. 

You gave him a good shove to the side. “You’re an idiot.” A goofy smirk tugged at his lips as he laughed with you. 

 “An idiot who got you laughing.” he leaned over, checking behind him before he winked. It left you both amused and annoyed while you watched him walk off to join Dustin. A small smile stayed on your lips when you suddenly felt a warm hand brush up against your lower back. 

 “You’re telling me I’m supposed to be friends with this guy?” Steve sniffed, looking annoyed.

 For a second, you didn’t say anything. Leaning close to his touch until you reached behind you to lace your hand with his. “What’s wrong?” you asked finally.

 Steve let out a small but heavy sigh. “I’m feeling..”

 “Jealous?..”

 “No.” he grumbled. “..Yes. I don’t know, I hate seeing the guy impress you and make you laugh. I deal enough with Dustin being wooed by him I can’t stand to see it with you too.”

 An amused huff of air pushed past your lips. “I’m not being wooed by him.” you reassured him, letting your reach up to his face. “..But I get it.”

 Steve raised a brow and took your hand in his as he brought it to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss inside to your palm. “Do you?” he mumbled, struggling to maintain his wariness but also looking for confirmation.

 You leaned closer to him, your eyes locked with his.

 “Eddie is my friend. Right now, he’s thankfully using humor to make light of our very shitty situation.” A sad smile replaced your previous one at the unfortunate reminder. “So, try and smash down that little green monster on your shoulder, okay?”

 His expression shifted from jealousy to guilt, realizing his reaction was poorly timed. “Yeah..you’re right. I’ll try..I just–” He sighed deeply. “God, I'm such an idiot sometimes.”

 “Just a little one, your highness.” you nudged him teasingly. “It’s a good thing I like putting up with you.”

 A small, sheepish smile finally broke through his tense expression and he tugged at your hand. “All right, get off that high horse of yours, Trouble.”

 You let out a small laugh, pleased to have some normalcy between you two again. “Come on, it’s getting dark, let’s catch up to the others.” you nodded down the path.

 Steve reluctantly nodded, letting go of your hand to keep a protective arm around your shoulders as you both started walking again. The tension from before gradually leaving. For now.

 It was an hour or so later, you couldn’t keep track anymore, when Dustin suddenly sprinted ahead of the group. Leaving all of you scrambling after him. From down the line you heard Eddie as he called after him.

 “Dustin? Can you slow down? Dustin?!” 

 The two of you in the back had just about caught up in time to see Eddie pull back Dustin from falling into the water. 

 “Oh man,” Steve groaned. “You gotta be shitting me.”

 “No way.” you frowned, looking over the large expanse of the lake.

 “Yeah,” Eddie agreed. “I thought these woods looked familiar.”

 “Lover’s Lake.” Robin noted.

 Beside you, Dustin looked out to the water in amazement. “This is confounding.” he exhaled. 

 “There’s a gate in Lover’s Lake?” Max asked, a confused frown on her face.

 “Whenever the Demogorgon attacked, it always left an opening.” Nancy thought aloud. “Maybe Vecna’s the same way.”

 Steve gave your hand a small squeeze. “Yeah, only one way to find out.”

 Conveniently nearby, there was a small little boat with an engine. Probably left by one of the many fishermen that lived in Hawkins. Their mistake became your group’s saving grace. The two older boys reached over and lugged it to the shoreline.

 “Easy–” Steve instructed as Eddie dropped it into the water, earning a look from the other boy. “I said easy, man.”

 “Sorry, dude.” 

 He shook his head at Eddie and checked on the engine while Robin used both their heads to steady herself onto the boat. Eddie quickly climbed in after her and extended a hand out to Nancy as she stepped in next. You were about to join them when Dustin cut in front of you.

 “Hey, hey, hey, you trying to sink us?” Eddie said to Dustin, pushing him back by the top of his head. “This thing holds three people tops, okay?”

 “It’s better this way,” Nancy added, shuffling around the small boat to look back. “You guys stay here with Max, keep an eye out for trouble.”

 “You keep an eye out!” Dustin responded curtly, irritated instantly by the rejection. The girl gave him an incredulous look that had him just as shocked as he shook his head. “It’s my goddamn theory!” 

 Robin tilted her head at him, giving him a very tired look. “You heard Nance.” she said short.

 Dustin liked that response even less. “Who put her in charge?” he asked, pointing a finger to Nancy.

 “I did.”

 Nancy ignored their fighting to extend her hand out. “Compass.” she demanded gently.

 Reluctantly, he passed it to her, his pout the biggest you’ve seen yet. Patting his back, you watched as he stepped back with the others. From down at the engine, Steve shared a look with you, nodding for you to join in. A little weary about it capsizing, you gave a quick jump into the boat, nearly falling out of it if it weren’t for Eddie who helped steady you.

 “Whoa, whoa! Why the hell is she going?” Dustin quickly spat.

 “I’m here to be the pretty one of the group.” you said casually, fixing up your hair as if it made any sense.

 “What?!” he gaped.

 But everyone just ignored his outburst. Steve got up from the engine giving you a knowing look at where this was going to go. “Hey, here you go.” he called out to Dustin, tossing him his back just before pushing the boat further into the water and quickly joining in. 

 “You said three!”

 Steve looked only a little bit bad as he whispered an apology. He held his hand up in a small wave, glancing over at you with a small smirk.

 Robin and Eddie rowed the boat a little out on the lake before she called out to the three kids left behind. “Bedtime at nine, kiddos!” she yelled playfully. “Miss you already!”

  It was about twenty minutes of aimlessly rowing into the lake when the compass finally came to life. Nancy called out for the other two to slow down as she stared down at the object. 

 Steve held the flash light just above it to show the needle inside spinning erratically, switching from clockwise to counter. “Whoa,” he said, looking down. You frowned at the sight, feeling something in the pit of your stomach at the spot you guys hovered over.

 “Guys, what’s going on?” Sprang the radio, Dustin’s voice slightly annoyed still but with a hint of worry. “Come on, talk to me. What’s going on?”

 Robin picked up the radio to reply back to him. “Uh, Dustin, your compass has gone wonky to wonky with a capital ‘ahh!’” she explained, nervously looking down at it.

 Suddenly, Steve kicked off his shoe and pulled at his socks. The rest of you shared curious looks before Robin spoke up first.

 “Steve, what are you doing?”

 “Somebody’s gotta go down and check this out.” he said simply, “Unless one of you can top being a Hawkins High swim co-captain and a certified lifeguard for three years then...it’s gotta be me. No complaints, all right?” he said looking between you guys. 

 “Hey, I’m not complaining.” Eddie said, looking out to the water. “I do not want to go in there.”

 You felt a sudden pang of worry, kicking off your shoes and socks without a second thought. Steve’s eyes widened and he held out his hands. “Trouble, what do you think–”

 “Four years lifeguard at the beach.” you said, passing your shoes to Nancy to hold as you got up. “Think that trumps a co-captain.”

 “No,” he said, waving his hands in an x formation. “No. It isn’t–”

 “Safe? Like you’d be any safer?” you countered, watching as he took off his shirt next. Your eyes lingered over his body before back up to his face.

 “It’s just a swim down to check out what’s going on.” he raised a brow to you. “You don’t need to come.”

 “I’m not gonna let you do this alone.” 

 Steve looked like he wanted to argue but you cut off the next response on his tongue as you shed off your shirt. Needing less fabric to weigh you down. Steve’s eyes widened again. “Whoa!” he called out, lifting your shirt to cover your chest. “Y-You can’t just take off your shirt!”

 “Why?’ you frowned, looking around.

 “Because then..people might see you?” he said sheepishly. 

 Rolling your eyes, you pushed his hands away and tossed your shirt to Robin. “Look, I appreciate the gesture but everyone on this boat has either seen my bra or my breasts. So I don’t really care about anyone here seeing.”

 From across the lake you heard the echo of Dustin’s gagged scream.

 “Maybe just one person..” you muttered to yourself, leaning down to roll up the ends of your jeans, ignoring the slight burn on your skin from having a few pairs of eyes on your body. 

 All Steve did was stare a moment longer until he rubbed a hand over his face. “Fine.” he said gruff, defeated by your response. “But you follow my lead.”

 “Whatever you say, Captain.” you smirked. It was his turn as he rolled his eyes and fixed up the bottom of his pants. 

 Eddie placed the flashlight into the plastic bag, tying it up so that water couldn’t get in but the tool was still useful to use. “Good luck.” he said as he offered it to Steve. “You too, Princess.”

 Winking at him appreciatively, you watched as he held onto your tape and headphones, tucking it safely into his jacket. You turned to face Steve, ready for the jump in.

 “Guys?” Nancy called out. The two of you glanced over your shoulders to look at her. She had a pensive look on her face as she softly warned you two. “Be careful.”

 You smiled a bit at that, giving her a slight nod. Steve looked back at you with the same worry you’ve been seeing for days now. “Just follow me, okay?” he reminded you, bringing your hand up to his lips. Nodding, you gave him a quiet confirmation as the two of you placed your footing on the edge of the boat, sucked in a deep breath, and jumped into the icy lake.

 It wasn’t until after you dived deep within the water that you began to feel the cold temperature prick your skin. Your eyes squeezed shut momentarily until you felt a hand tug at you. Steve, flashed the light, pointing downward to something he noticed. 

 Quickly, the two of you moved down, the depth of the lake not too far, but still eerie as you swam further. The flash light showed nothing but the bones of certain fish and large log pieces that had sunk into the bottom. Something that only felt more creepy given the reasoning why you were in so deep.

 You glanced around you, feeling something pulling deep into your core, it felt too familiar. That’s when Steve tapped your shoulder and pointed to what looked like a small glowing crack in the lake’s ground. Red, ominous, and somewhat calling to you.

 Together you both swam closer, faces frowning and confused at this otherworldly sight. It reminded you exactly of the gate that you guys had encountered beneath the Starcourt Mall. Making you recoil a bit at the memory. Grabbing Steve’s arm, you pointed up towards the surface, you needed to get away from this thing. Even if just for a moment.

 He reached towards the red skin like barrier first, almost hesitantly, to test what it was. But just as he was about to touch it, something from the other side poked back. That was enough to send the two of you to swim towards the surface. 

 But as you tried to catch up with Steve, something instantly shot out and wrapped at your leg. Making you let out a scream in the water. Bubbles surrounded your face and you tried to claw upward, to the surface, to Steve, to anything that could pull you up. But the light above went away and you found you were being dragged down.

 Your hands and legs flailed as you tried to get out of the clutches of whatever held your leg. Water filled your lungs and you felt the world getting hazy before it was suddenly upside down and you were screaming in the air until you landed hard on your back on some strange surface. The ground apparently, which was covered in large vein-like tentacles and dirt. 

 There was no chance to react to anything as suddenly you were dragged away from the gate. The grime and coarse earthy floor cutting against the exposed parts of your body. Your screams are cracked and painful to your throat but the pain from the cuts were worse. The tentacle dragged you through large chunks of wood and other debris until you were into the treeline. 

 Grabbing a loose branch, you stabbed into the dirt of the woods and held on tight until the tentacle gave up and you finally stopped.

 A whimper fell past your lips as you sat up, feeling the cuts on the blades of your shoulders and the back of your arms. It wasn’t until the sky cracked and red lightning hit the air that you suddenly took in your surroundings. You weren’t in Hawkins, no. You were in the upside down.

 There was a sudden shrieking coming from the sky, a batlike figure coming towards your direction. You held onto the tree branch, feeling a sudden sense of dread. 

 That’s when you heard the echo of Steve screaming.

Hey guys! I’m so sorry it’s taken me so long to put in another update! I hope you guys are still interested in this story, I missed it so much! Let me know what you guys think. 🩷

If you wanna be tagged in this series again, please let me know :)

[sarahroutldge]

speak now or not at all.

a/n: my first rafe request! it's been a long time since I've written something this angsty, and I don't know if I've ever written hurt/no-comfort in any fandom ever lol. so if this is bad that's why... anyways thank you sm to @zyafics for this request, it nearly broke me <3

(also yes I did steal the name 'huntzberger' from gilmore girls haha I'm a rogan truther for life sorry)

summary: on your wedding day, none other than your ex-boyfriend, rafe cameron, shows up at the doors to your dressing room.

word count: 1.7k

warnings: pure angst (as requested), UNEDITED because I truly cannot be bothered rn, mentions of drugs, rehab, smoking, drinking, death (the usual rafe stuff), uhhhh just pure angsty heartbreak yeah sorry </3

A year-long engagement and ten months of wedding planning should have prepared you for this moment. You stand in front of the full-length mirror as the custom wedding gown floats down your body. It’s stunning; you’re stunning. The intricate lace that makes us the dress is light and buttery, and the fabric falls on your body with each curve accentuated perfectly. 

Unfortunately, it’s just not you. Everything about it feels off; the lace has started to itch, the necklace you wear—a gift from your soon-to-be mother-in-law—weighs heavy on your neck. Though no one else is in the room, you can feel the claustrophobia. Practically the entirety of Figure Eight is on their way to the church, waiting to watch you walk down the aisle and meet the man of your dreams. 

And in many ways, they’re not wrong. He is everything a future patriarch of Figure Eight should be. Connor Huntzberger is handsome, smart, and kind. He’s the heir to a small but elite and lucrative boutique hotel business in North Carolina. After high school graduation, he attended Duke (just like his father and his father’s father before him), then immediately returned home post-graduation to work his way up the family business. You’ve known him all your life, and you can’t find it in yourself to come up with a flaw. He’s practically a modern Prince Charming. 

But he’s not Rafe Cameron.

Rafe Cameron, your former best friend in high school and boyfriend in college. He’s your first love, your first everything. He was a messy friends-with-benefits situation that eventually became something real, something sacred. For most of college, you thought you’d last forever. You thought you’d move back to the Eight together, before marrying and having a few Cameron babies. It was something you talked about after one-too-many-nights at the college bars, while the two of you shared a joint in the backyard of his frat house. And when he eventually moved off-campus and into his own apartment, you joined him. And you were happy—the happiest you’ve ever been.

If only Rafe’s father hadn’t died so suddenly, so unexpectedly and with Rafe only just having graduated college. Ward Cameron’s death threw everyone for a loop, and the demons that Rafe suffered through but managed to control in high school were only magnified. The drugs came first, and then came the lying, and then the yelling. And then, you got a call from a hospital telling you that the man on file as your emergency contact had overdosed. You’ll never forget Rafe’s sister Sarah driving you to the hospital and the utter heartbreak you felt when Rafe refused to see you.

You didn’t think hearts could shatter before that. And even then, you could’ve sworn your heart had already shattered bit by bit from the last few months of your downward spiral with Rafe. But the feeling of not being wanted so explicitly, so firmly, after he’d just nearly died, cracked something deep inside of you—something that could never be mended. 

Three years later, and you’re marrying the quarterback of your high school football team, and the only Cameron at the wedding today will be your friend Sarah.

Your daze is shaken by a knocking at the door. Thinking it’s your mother or one of your bridesmaids, you shout a quick, “Come in!” before wiping a stray tear off your cheeks. You don’t look up, trying to prepare yourself for what is supposed to be the most magical day of your life. The door creaks open, but you ignore it. 

It isn’t until the silence starts to unsettle you that you look up, and if you hadn’t downed three shots of espresso an hour ago you’re sure that you would have fainted right there. Because standing at the door to your dressing room, in an Oxford shirt and a pair of grey pants, is the love of your life.

Or, sorry, was the love of your life. 

You don’t speak. He doesn’t speak. The two of you take each other in, letting your eyes roam over the body you both haven’t seen in years. The first thought that comes to mind is that he looks older, but not in a bad way. He looks settled, mature, and more grounded. His eyes are still as blue and piercing as ever, and his biceps certainly fit the shirt just as perfectly as they did in college. His hair, however, is gone. You would be horrified if you didn’t find it sexy.

“You cut your hair?!” you ask, appalled at the sight. 

And he can’t help but let out a cackle at that being your big opener. “I haven’t seen you in three years, and that’s the first thing you say to me?” he jokes. His eyes crinkle in delight as they always do, but there’s something sad in it, a glint that sends a shudder through you.

You try to force a laugh, but your body doesn’t cooperate. You’re sure Rafe notices, but he doesn’t call you out on it. When the silence is too much, though, he speaks. “You look incredible, by the way.” 

His eyes glisten as he says the words, and his voice catches. You nod in thanks, as the two of you both thought the first time he saw you in a wedding dress would be under much different circumstances. 

Another minute of awkward silence passes, and Rafe speaks up again. “Look, I—”

“Why are you here, Rafe?” you interrupt, and your directness would shock him if he didn’t know you better. But you’ve always been like that—always to the point, and never one for small talk. You never hesitated to call him out on his bullshit and he loved you for it. Still loves you for it. 

“I needed to see you.”

“Why?”

“I needed to know that I was making the right choice by not ruining this wedding,” he sputters out. “I needed to know that you were happy with the choice you’d made, because ever since I heard about the engagement I’ve been telling myself that I could still be better for you. For the past two years I’ve been working on myself. I went to rehab twice, and I’ve been working for the family business. I got my trust back from Rose, and I finally made things right with my sister. But I would be lying to myself if I said that I did all those things for myself and my future only. Everything was about you… Until it wasn’t. I took one look at the picture of you in that stunning pink dress at your bridal shower and I knew I couldn’t ruin this for you. You deserve so much better than me.”

He exhales, as if he hadn’t taken a breath at all while he spoke. And as much as you don’t want it to, your heart clenches at his words, physically squeezing your insides as you hear the confession that you’ve wanted to hear for years now. 

And if he said it before you got engaged—hell, if he even said it three months ago—you probably would’ve leapt into his arms and told him to pull the truck around. But the very fact that he waited until the day of your wedding to say something not only saddens and disappoints you, but it angers you. It fills you with rage, only tempered by your impeccable makeup and hair and that dress that feels like it’ll rip any moment soon.

“I’m not leaving with you, Rafe. I’m marrying Connor in an hour—”

“I know that.”

“Then why—”

“Because the only dream I’ve ever had in my life—the only thing I’ve ever cared about—was seeing you smile in a white dress. And even if I can’t be the one you’re walking to, I needed to see it with my own eyes.” 

You’re shaken by his words, and your anger almost immediately softens into something more devastating—acceptance. Your heart still aches anytime his does, and when a rare tear falls down his cheek, you jump into his arms, hugging him around the neck.

At first he’s shocked at the contact, but the shock morphs into understanding. His arms wrap around your body, holding you against him as he pretends not to notice the faint press of your lips against his neck. “I think I’ll always love you,” you mumble.

He nods and squeezes you tighter. “Right back at ya, angel.”

You settle in his arms, touching Rafe Cameron for what you know will be the last time. You’re not his, and he’s not yours. You remember the way he smells, faintly of cedar but also of something new and more mature, more elegant. You remember the way the side of his face feels against yours, the softness of his skin and the way his hand is splayed against your back.

When he feels tears on his neck, it takes him all the energy in the world to push you away from him and remove his arms. He holds your hand in his, and before you can question it, he says, “C’mon, you can’t be crying on your wedding day. And I certainly won’t let myself be the reason for it.” 

You nod. “I’ll, uh, see you out there, I guess.”

He shakes his head. “Please don’t ask that of me, angel.”

“Right, uh, I’ll see you around, then.”

He nods, though you both know your words aren’t true. If he sees you, it’ll be at a distance, at an event he doesn’t care for, surrounded by people he doesn’t care about. He won’t walk up to you, and you won’t trade hugs. At the most, you'll swap glances, and even that’ll be too much for him. And for you.

Rafe walks backwards to the door, treasuring this last moment with you where he can pretend like everything is always as it was planned, like this is just a nightmare that you’ll shake him out of as you lay in his bed, in his house, with his ring on your finger. 

But it’s not, and as the doors shut on the love of your life, you can’t help but feel like you’re about to walk down the aisle at a funeral, not a wedding. 

so... what did we think??? this was meant to be just a one part thing but as a flangst lover I could def be persuaded to make a part two... hehe... just let me know if y'all are interested in that <3

and requests are open!!! yayy

[blessedbucky]

ℙ𝕒𝕣𝕥 𝕏𝕀𝕀

pairing: autistic!satoru x suguru x autistic!reader

word count: 12.2k (still yapping)

summary: jealousy is a hell of a thing

tags: autistic!reader; autistic!satoru; and featuring...autistic!megumi! (because like he is literally the most autistic coded of the show); ANGST...ish?; and mentioned sex pollen (a curse made them do it) so i guess kinda dub-con adjacent; jealousy jealousy (olivia rodrigo style); ahhh yes and how can we forget the autistic urge to think things can only be done exactly one (1) way

beautiful people who asked to be tagged 💕: @ichikanu, @iceheartsice, @anders-is-being-a-simp-again, @lexlibrary, @ziggy0stardust, @svntsbunnie

author note: so anyway i take back what i said last chapter and am now like just doing moments of 2010 and 2011 (which is when the prologue is set). this chapter focuses on reader FINALLY figuring it out. next chapter is gonna be FUCKIN. like, pining hardcore yes, but the FWB deal getting established. and the BABY MAKING. and the first five months of pregnancy hehehehe c:<

Story Masterlist

[but i'm gonna stay, 'cause i'm your broken dog]

[JANUARY 2010]

Soy sauce soaks through the fabric of your socks. Glass is shattered on the floor all around you. Nanako and Mimiko are in the other room. A part of your brain acknowledges that you should probably clean up this mess before they make their way in here for dinner, but that part is quiet. It’s drowned out by his words that repeat in your head over and over like a broken record. Your lips are still parted in shock. You should…set your face right. You’re going to make him self-conscious, but…

“What did you say?” Satoru asks before you can. Your eyes flitter over to the kitchen table where he’s paused in chopping vegetables. There’s a blank expression on his face. Too neutral to not be on purpose. He only does that when he wants to hide how he really feels.

“Is it really that shocking that I have a date?” Suguru deadpans. “Thank you both for your faith in me.” He mistakes what you’re upset about…

But…but…why are you upset? Why is your chest so tight with panic right now? This…this should be good news. Logically, you know that. Doesn’t this mean that Suguru is healing? He’s moving on. Moving on—the thought of that alone makes you break out in a cold sweat and the hand clutching at the counter tremble. “But what about your birthday?” Yes. That…that must be what it is. “We always spend it together,” you point out weakly.

“That’s not changing,” he reassures you as his face softens in understanding. “I’m going out for dinner. We can still spend the whole morning and afternoon however you want.”

“We spend the whole day together,” Satoru insists as he puts the knife down on the table forcefully. “What about the girls?”

“I was going to ask you two to watch them, but if you don’t want to then I can always ask Shoko,” he explains with a casual shrug. How can he be so casual? Wait. No. Why…why are you not being casual?“And, yes, I know we usually spend the whole day together on birthdays, but it’s not like we ever have anything planned. I’ll only be gone a few hours.”

Satoru’s got this pinched expression on his face now. “What if I was planning on us taking a trip?”

Suguru sighs in exasperation, knowing that Satoru is being stubborn for no reason. But it’s not for no reason. Because, clearly, Satoru feels the exact way you do right now. That’s why he’s voicing the things you can’t without you two having even talked about it yet.

Suguru crosses his arms over his chest, raising a brow at Satoru. “Have you?”

“No,” you whisper. Satoru’s gaze snaps over to you, eyes burning hot. You immediately look away. This is a good thing, you insist to yourself, desperately trying to believe that. “It’s…um…I’ll watch them.” Foster his healing, foster his healing. “I—” I hope you have a good date, is what you should say but can’t force yourself to. The words are lodged in your throat with all the other emotions. “I…should clean this up…”

You need to do something to keep yourself busy because, right now, you want to cry. Not that you understand why you want to cry so bad. Is it the change of routine? It must be. And you’re being childish, aren’t you, with how you want to stick to this little childhood tradition that you pulled Satoru into. People grow up. They…find dates. It’s what you did. Technically. You can’t keep selfishly clinging to Suguru like this.

“Thank you,” Suguru breathes out with such sincerity that your chest gets tighter. He really wants this. You feel guiltier for being upset about something he’s excited about. “Be careful with the glass,” he warns when you turn around to grab a dish towel to soak up the soy sauce. “Here. Let me grab the broom. Let me get you a wet towel to wash your feet off. I know you hate anything sticky.”

“Okay,” you mumble. If another person comes into his life, will he still know you? Or will those intimate details be replaced with those of another? You shake your head, thankfully out of sight of Suguru. You’re being childish. Greedy.

Your face isn’t right because Suguru comes back in the kitchen and frowns worriedly. “Are you okay?”

“Yes,” you blurt. Too forced. Too rushed. He’ll know something is wrong and how are you supposed to explain it without coming off as a bad friend? “I…I feel bad because…is this your only bottle?” Yes. Yes. “I’ll go get some more.” Good. A little time away will give your mind some time to settle. “I’m so sorry.”

“Squid, it’s fine. Don’t cry.” Wrong thing for him to say! That makes you want to cry more! “I’ll get it—”

“I’ll go with her,” Satoru says.

Suguru eyes him skeptically. “You just want to get out of cooking.”

“You got me.” Satoru raises his hands in mock surrender. Giving up too easy. That’s not the reason at all. “But I want sugar. I need lots of sugar. More than you’ve got.” He stomps over. Stomps. Even without the use of your technique, you can literally feel the irritation rolling off him. You squeak when he grabs you by the hips and lifts you up on the counter with ease. “Stay here. I’ll get you another pair of socks.”

“Oh—” he’s gone, Suguru and you watching him go, “—kay…”

“What’s with him?”

You swallow. Duck your head so that Suguru can’t look you in the eye when you lie, “I don’t know.” It’s…half-lie, anyway. You have a suspicion of why Satoru is upset. It very well may be for the exact same reason that you are. “So…um…who’s the lucky person?” It’s an unbelievably tough question to ask. You don’t want to know, but you…feel…obligated to ask. Is that not what you as…his…best friend…is supposed to ask?

“Ah.” His smile is shy, embarrassed. There’s a flush on his cheeks and he rubs the back of his neck. A wave of irritation rolls through you. Why does someone else make him feel like that? No. Damn it, you’re not supposed to think that way. “It’s a funny story, actually. You already know her. It’s…Kuronuma Suzue.”

If you were even remotely smiling, it’s falls away from your face immediately. “Nanako and Mimiko’s…teacher…”

“She’s never been their teacher, so there’s no conflict of interest or anything!” Suguru defends himself. “I…just wanted to meet her since she’ll be watching over the girls while they’re in elementary school and we…sort of hit it off from there?”

It’s hard not to feel betrayed by Kuronuma. It’s only because of your initiative that she’s in the position that she is. A pilot, a role model, a bridge between those active in the jujutsu community and those who are not. Also, double the pay—a check from the school system and a check from headquarters.

The proposal from last November was tentatively accepted. Start small and add more people if it proves beneficial. You want more people in schools. Non-sorcerer schools. Because, contrary to what you were made to believe in high school, there are actually a lot of people who can see cursed spirits and they’re all kept track of by jujutsu headquarters. It’s the responsibility of active sorcerers to report anyone they find to be able to see and interact with cursed spirits.

Satoru has said before that a person has to be a special type of crazy to want to do sorcery as a profession and most people are not born like that. Even becoming an auxiliary manager has risks. But why can’t headquarters try to utilize those people who don’t want to be a sorcerer or manager? Why are those the only two options?

Mimiko and Nanako…if there had been more sorcerers in their lives, they wouldn’t have been so hurt. If there had been anyone to say I see you, things could have gone so differently. It’s impossible to have a sorcerer in every tiny village, but you want to fucking try, damn it. Your ultimate goal is to have a jujutsu representative in every prefecture, but you need proof that that’d be beneficial.

So, to start, you’re putting more sorcerers in schools—first in Tokyo and Kyoto before slowly branching out to other major cities in the country. You told the higher-ups that it would be good for recruitment. If an adult is there to comfort a confused child, it makes them more open to becoming a sorcerer when they’re about to graduate middle school. Also, it prevents incidents with non-sorcerers getting hurt by a child losing control of their technique.

Kuronuma was so enthusiastic about the idea when you called her. You started with sorcerers that were teachers already. She’d just graduated with her degree. She’s passionate about helping children and was excited to be able to impact even more lives of people like her. When you interviewed her, she thanked you for coming up with this idea because it meant there would be less lonely children in the world like you and her had been.

You…shouldn’t feel betrayed. Kuronuma would be good for Suguru and the girls. A sorcerer involved more with non-sorcerers would help with their pain. She’s a nurturer, always bringing extra food for you when she reports in with you because she knows you often forget to eat when you’re working. This is perfect. You should be enthusiastic right now. You’re being childish instead, being terrified that she’s going to steal Suguru away from you.

“She’ll be a good match.” You hope you’re being as encouraging as you need to be.

“A good match?” Suguru laughs. “What? Are you a matchmaker now?”

Thankfully, that’s when Satoru marches back in the kitchen, pair of socks held high. You don’t have to force this pretending that you’re okay right now. “Got the socks!” You’re not even given the chance to put them on because Satoru bends down and starts doing it for you. “C’mon, c’mon, let’s get a move on. I’m starving.”

“I can always just make something that doesn’t require soy sauce,” Suguru suggests while putting a hand on his hip.

“Blegh!” Satoru sticks his tongue out. “I want sugar.”

Suguru sighs in exasperation, giving up on a lecture and instead focuses on cleaning up the mess.

It’s a silent walk to the konbini.

There’s a tension in the air between you and Satoru, but you’re afraid to address it. You really don’t want to talk about Suguru’s date, but Satoru is…agitated. You should check up on him. What are you supposed to say, though? Any reassurances from you would be hollow and Satoru would pick up on that in a heartbeat.

People brush against you as you’re both walking, instinctively making you shy away from the foreign touch. You never realize you’re doing it until you finally press against Satoru, but that doesn’t happen tonight. Because Infinity is there to meet you and that is when you figure out that something else is wrong with Satoru. Infinity being up around you is a conscious effort on his part and the biggest red flag that he’s not okay. It’s him practically screaming that he doesn’t want to be touched by anyone at all.

So, you zero on him, watching him carefully for other signs. He still hasn’t noticed that you touched Infinity. How can he when he keeps rubbing at his eyes the way he is? His teeth are gritted—you can tell by the way his jaw is clenched tight. In his peripheral, you see him blinking rapidly between his rubbing them.

It’s dark already. Snow is gently drifting down. Just ahead, the fluorescent light of the konbini spills out onto the street. Infinity suddenly shoves out further, sending you and everyone else around Satoru stumbling to the side. “Satoru!” Either he ignores you or doesn’t hear you because he keeps on walking, shoulders hunched with his tension. You have to dash right in front of him, arms spread out to block his path because you clearly can’t grab his hand. “Satoru!”

“What?” Satoru shouts.

You try not to shrink under his anger. It’s just more proof that he’s overstimulated. How can you control your emotions when your entire body is betraying you already? “You nearly knocked me into traffic with Infinity,” you explain calmly as you drop your arms. “You need to check in with me right now.”

Satoru briefly glances around, realizing the wide berth he’s been unintentionally keeping around himself. “Oh,” he whispers. His brows furrow and you sense Infinity shrink. See it in the way that people shuffle closer. But he flinches with his entire body at the closeness of those strangers. “I’m sorry,” he grits out.

“Don’t apologize,” you whisper. “Are you getting a migraine?”

“No,” he lies. You know he lies because his body immediately turns around and shatters the false bravado. He clutches at his head with a hiss. The pain must get worse because then he sinks down into a crouch, clutching at his head with both hands, groaning in agony.

“Shit,” you curse. You should’ve known sooner. How can you be so stupid? Looking back now, all the signs of a migraine have been there since you went to Suguru’s. “Satoru—” Infinity keeps you back when you try to rush toward him. You can only crouch down at the edge of it. It’s for the best, anyway. Infinity is trying to block out as much stimuli as it can. “Do you not have your blackout glasses on right now?”

“I do,” he whimpers. “Not enough.”

Fuck. This has been happening more and more. Usually, the only thing that helps him are the blackout curtains in his room and slipping under a blanket to further block out any lingering fractals of light in the room. He can’t possibly focus enough to warp if he’s immobile from pain, but you don’t want him to be tortured further. If only you had something to cover his…

Your fingers brush against the edge of your scarf. Worth a shot, you think frantically before you’re yanking if off, almost choking yourself in the process. “Drop Infinity for a second,” you order softly. He does. When he understands what you’re doing, trying to wrap it around his head and eyes, he quickly helps you finish up. You let him take over, knowing that Infinity could shove you away at any moment. “Better?”

“Little bit,” he whispers hoarsely. He’s still clutching at his head, though.

People are starting to slow down and stare. If he’s going to teleport, it needs to be now before there’s a crowd. “Can you focus enough to warp yourself home?”

“Don’t wanna.” The stubbornness is undermined by the pain in his voice. “Not without you,” he adds. And, yes, that’s very sweet, but he’s suffering. “I can handle it. Got to. Just have to learn how to deal with it.”

“You are not doing that around me.” What are you doing? There’s no point in arguing with him when he’s like this. You pull out your cell phone to immediately call Suguru, thoughts of earlier pushed away by your growing anxiety. You don’t give him the chance to greet you, instead rushing to explain, “I’m so sorry. I’ll be late. I have to take Satoru home—”

“What’s wrong?” Suguru interrupts you to ask worriedly.

“Migraine,” you answer. “Just…I can drop him off and grab a bottle near me, but it’ll be later than expected. I don’t want to leave him like this. This one is bad. We didn’t even make it inside the konbini, he’s so sensitive to light right now.”

“No, what? Why are you apologizing to me? It’s fine, Squid. Don’t worry about coming back. I’ll cook something else.”

You hesitate. “Are you sure? The girls—”

“The girls will be fine. They’ll understand. They’ve seen him with migraines before. They’ll be more worried than anything else.” They have? Just how fucking often is Satoru having these migraines? This isn’t sustainable. “I don’t want him to be alone right now, either. Stay with him. And keep me updated, please.”

“Yes, of course. I’ll text you when we’re home—”

There’s not enough time to end the call on your end. Satoru snatches your wrist, and the world falls out from under your feet. It always feels like a gut punch when you teleport with him, no matter how often you’ve done it. You don’t know how Satoru stands it. And you hate the way that no matter how much you brace yourself, you always, always stumble. But there’s no stumbling tonight because you land square in the middle of your mattress, chest thumping against Satoru’s. Toru and Gato barely manage to dodge out of the way of your bodies, screeching in surprise and protest.

“Why are we here?” Is it so bad that he can’t even control his warping? You’re frazzled and panicked. “Satoru, I still haven’t gotten your blackout curtains yet.” He ordered them for you. Specially made overseas, insisting that anything you buy in the city isn’t dark enough.

“You said warp home,” he mumbles as he kicks off his shoes. He grabs mindlessly for a pillow. Before he shoves it over his face, he adds, casual as can be, “Home is you.”

Home is you.

You stay there, sprawled out across his chest, staring at him with wide eyes and parted lips. Your heart flutters. It’s only his muffled groan of pain that pulls you from your swooning. You can’t believe he would drop something so romantic in a time like this. Then again, Satoru never realizes how awe inspiring some of the things he says are.

Scrambling off the bed, you rush to turn on the lamp light. It’s the same process as always—grab an extra big, thick blanket from your closet and grab the chair from your desk on the way to the window. You climb up on the chair, hauling the blanket over the curtain rod. Even the dim glow of the streetlights is too much. You hope that this migraine doesn’t last until morning.

You switch off the lamp before you sit on the edge of the mattress. Satoru is already moving the pillow off his face. Your hand hovers over his forehead, waiting for permission to touch. He bumps his head against your palm in a silent go-ahead, and you guide him back, running your hands through his fingers when his head is on the pillow.

Mindful of your volume, you ask him, “Do you want a washcloth? I can stick it in the freezer for a few minutes to make it extra cold.”

“Too scratchy.”

It’s that kind of night, then. “Do you want me to sleep on the futon?”

“Want you.”

His answers are short and clipped. You don’t want to keep him talking for too long when he’s struggling to do it, but you don’t want him pushing himself, either. “Infinity kept me away. Don’t force yourself.”

“Too many people around earlier. It’s okay now.”

“Fine.” You’ll know if it’s too much for him, anyway. “We’re sleeping in our underwear, then.” It’s less fabric that he has to deal with. “What about food? Do you think you can manage something?”

“No.”

You lean down to press a kiss to his forehead. “Okay. Let me feed Toru and Gato and find a snack.”

“No. Eat real food.”

That’s rich coming from the person whose meals consist of nothing butsugary snacks. “And have whatever I cook stinking up the place? No. I’m not doing that to you. I’ll be okay until morning.” You reach down to squeeze his hand. “Be back in a bit, but don’t wait up for me. Go to sleep.”

He doesn’t.

When you slip into bed after you’ve fed the cats and gotten ready to go to sleep, his arms are open and waiting for you. He sighs when his cheek settles in the valley of your breasts and the tension bleeds out of his body. You don’t even think about it before you start threading your fingers through his hair again.

“Thank you,” Satoru whispers when you’re starting to doze.

“I love you,” you mumble sleepily. “Don’t thank me for taking care of you.”

“Love you, too.”

Just before noon, Satoru comes stumbling into the kitchen, squinting despite the day being overcast with snow. Still sensitive, but not in agony like he was last night. You hand him his sunglasses, a parfait that you ran to the konbini to buy, and the soda that he’s currently obsessed with. He wordlessly takes it all before going to drop down at the table with a weary sigh. He doesn’t eat, instead putting his arms on the table and resting his cheek on them.

“I think you have to figure something else out,” you suggest softly after you’ve sat down at the other chair. You reach over to rest a comforting hand on the back of his neck. “It was dark, and your sunglasses still weren’t enough.”

“I know,” he agrees irritably. “I can try making the lenses bigger, I guess.” He sighs loudly, brows furrowing, and bottom lip jutting out. “I hate having to get rid of the glasses you got me.”

“You don’t have to get rid of them. You just need to stop wearing them,” you point out with a chuckle. The smile melts away, replaced by worry. “But what I really meant was that I think you might need to get rid of sunglasses altogether. It seemed like there was still too much light coming in.”

“Yeah, but what the hell else is there to use? The scarf helped a lot, actually, but I can’t go around wearing a scarf around my head all the time. People already stare at me enough as it is.”

“I thought you liked the attention,” you tease. You lean back in your chair, thinking.

The thing is that he’s right. With his height and white hair, he already sticks out like a sore thumb. People already stop him to ask if he’s a model. He hates to be stopped needlessly like that. He needs something that turns people away. A mask when someone is sick deters others, but there’s nothing like that for eyes…or is there?

“What about bandages?”

Satoru lifts his head, blinking. “Bandages?”

“People will think you’ve got a medical issue, so maybe they won’t bother you as much. And you can use as many bandages as you need to keep the light out.”

“Hey, that’s actually not a bad idea.”

“Also,” you glare at him, “you’re going to tell me when you feel a migraine coming instead of pushing through it like you were doing last night.” His mouth opens and you shake your head. “No. I’m not letting it get that bad again. I can’t stop the missions, but I’m not letting home be miserable for you, too. If I’m allowed to be overstimulated, then so are you.” You jab a finger in his direction. “Got it?”

Satoru gives up trying to argue pretty fast because he just grins dopily at you. “Got it.”

[FEBRUARY 2010]

The morning after Suguru’s birthday, he shows up at your door with your favorite breakfast and an apologetic smile. It takes everything in you to not childishly slam the door in his face.

He spent the night with her.

You’re not sure who you’re angrier with right now—him for fucking her or yourself for telling him that you’d keep the girls for the night, basically giving him permission to do it.

Guess the date went well, you don’t say because you’re not sure you could keep the bitterness out of your voice.

While he’s back in the guest bedroom, waking the girls up, you’re in front of the counter, continually trying to force yourself to smile. You need to ask him how it went because that’s what good best friends do. You have to insist to your body and mind that it has no logical reason to feel betrayed. You shouldn’t feel sick to your stomach like this.

You cannot keep clinging to Suguru like this.

You and Suguru are no longer on the same path and that’s…fine. It’s supposed to be fine. On your path, you’re hand-in-hand with Satoru. And on Suguru’s path, he’s going to be hand-in-hand with… Kuronuma. He confirms it before he leaves, that they’re officially dating. But your paths are still within sight of each other. Parallel lines.

It’s a terrible fucking morning.

[APRIL 2010]

“Don’t be mad,” is the first thing that Satoru says when you pick up the phone one afternoon.

You immediately sigh because that always means you will be mad. It’s really a matter of how mad you’ll be at him. And it’s been a really shitty day for you. As soon as you stepped outside and squinted despite it being overcast this morning, you knew how things were going to play out. Satoru knows this. So, that he still got himself in trouble when he’s supposed to be with Tsumiki and Megumi only further irritates you.

“Depending on how bad this is,” you start slowly through gritted teeth, “you should probably not come over.”

Satoru sighs sadly. “Yeah, I knew that was coming. But I really, really, really need your help!”

You have to pull the phone away from your ear with how high-pitched his whine gets. “Volume,” you warn when he’s done.

“Sorry,” he apologizes, quieter. “So, um, look…” You tap your foot impatiently. It must be bad if he’s trying to figure out the best way to say it. “Megumi…sort of kind of maybe…ran away?”

“Megumi did what?!” Forget angry! Well, no, don’t, but you’re freaking the fuck out more than anything else! “Why the fuck are you talking to me, Satoru?! Call Suguru! We can use some of his spirits to help search for him! What the hell happened?! You told me you picked him up! Satoru, what if the Zen’in kidnapped him?! Why are you calling me?! Go look for him—”

“Sketch!” Satoru interrupts with a laugh.

“Don’t Sketch me! Stop laughing! Satoru, this is serious!” The volume of your screech sends Toru and Gato running. You’ll have to apologize later with treats.

“Baby, did you forget who you’re talking to? I still got eyes on him. Getting a migraine from how far he’s getting, but I probably deserve it. Keep forgetting he’s got those shikigami to ride on. Hope there’s no normie around because they’ll freak when they see a kid in the air like that—”

“You’re rambling,” you interrupt harshly, “when you should be going after him!”

“Right, right. Well, I’m calling you because you should probably be the one to get him.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose, taking a few deep breaths. It’s days like this one that make you want to go back in time and make your past-self rethink the decision to take him as your boyfriend. Damn him and his stupidly sweet face when he’s being romantic and vulnerable. It fooled you.

“What did you do?”

“Nothing! I’ve been hanging out with Tsumiki! Here, talk to her. She’ll be my witness.”

Before you can protest because you should be talking to the adult in this situation, there’s a shuffle and then Tsumiki is greeting you. “Hi, Miss Sketch.”

Alright, alright. This might actually be beneficial since Tsumiki is with Megumi all day when they’re not at school. There’s no point in talking to the Gojo caretaker since they rotate and the kids aren’t all that close to them, either. “Hey, Tsumiki,” you greet, hoping there’s no leftover anger in your voice. “Do you know what’s going on?”

“I know you’re really worried, but it’s okay,” she tries to comfort you. “Megumi does this every year.”

Your brows furrow. “Every year?”

“Um…since he started school, yeah. I mean, he’s done it more. But he always, always does it after school starts. I’m sorry that I forgot to tell you!”

That…is not the issue here. You don’t know how to explain that to her. There’s so much that’s wrong here, and you really hope that Satoru is listening because the Gojo caretaker should not be letting this happen. The sole purpose of them being there is to make sure that Megumi and Tsumiki are safe, sound, and taken care of. They shouldn’t be letting Megumi roam without at least knowing where he is.

One issue at a time, you remind yourself. “Does he always go to the same place?”

“I don’t know. He never talks to me about it and gets really mad if I ask too many questions. He hates school a lot.” Guiltily, she goes on to admit, “He told me and Satchan to be quiet, but we got loud by accident while we were playing and making dinner. I think that’s why he ran away.”

The start of a new school year is pretty stressful. Before high school when there were only three of you, you always dreaded that first day back, whether it be a new year or after a break. You always clung to Suguru’s hand, preparing yourself for walking into the bright fluorescence of the building, getting smacked in the face with so many smells, and being bombarded by the excited chatter of everyone catching up—

Wait.

Could it be that Megumi…

“Don’t blame yourself,” you soothe. “I think there’s a lot happening to Megumi right now. I’m going to see if he’ll talk to me about it, okay? We might need to talk tonight, but we’ll cross that bridge when we get there. Don’t worry. Can you give Satchan the phone back now?”

There’s an abandoned house near the Fushiguro siblings’ apartment where four missing children were found last year. They all swore that they’d been kidnapped by a monster that insisted on becoming their true mother. One of them, a little girl with messy blonde hair and green eyes, recounted how she’d been led out of the house by a fluffy white dog. Thankfully, no one else was hurt when the police went inside to collect the other children because the monster had already been taken care of.

Satoru and Megumi were already gone by the time the police arrived.

There’s been no cursed spirit activity since then. It’s the perfect place for someone to hide out that’s desperate for escape from the world. Megumi has always been a sensible boy, not running headfirst into danger because he understands the limits of his strength. The Divine Dogs are always with him whenever he leaves home. Sometimes, to hone his control over his cursed energy, he’ll keep them summoned even at home. Everyone has taken to calling them Kuro and Shiro, they’re so familiar now.

Shiro is out on the rundown stoop, barking to catch your attention, as if you haven’t already sensed him. You rub the top of his head in greeting. His tongue lolls out and his tail wags furiously. Knowing that someone stronger is here to protect Megumi, he follows after you as you slip inside the house, no longer needing to stand guard.

Megumi is off in a side room, away from the dreadful scent of rotting food. There’s probably more, little bits of the children who didn’t survive the spirit. Messy eating comes with the territory. No one bothered to clean up the scene after their investigation. A sign outside warns of the house’s impending demolition. Megumi is going to need a new spot to hide in.

Megumi works his jaw as you spread out a big blanket across the dirty floor to sit on across from him. He glowers at the Divine Dogs when they immediately go to curl up beside you, one on each side. You give Kuro a stroke along his back in greeting before pulling out your sketchbook to pass the time with drawing. You promised Tsumiki that you’d sketch Megumi’s dogs to show her what they look like in detail.

“You don’t need to talk to me if it’s hard to do that right now,” you explain, voice purposely quiet to keep his peace. “I brought a notebook for you to write in.” You pull the aforementioned notebook out, flipping to a clean page before placing it in front of him with a pencil. His brows furrow before he picks the notebook up only to browse previous pages, scattered with conversations of the past. “I use it myself. Some days, it’s a lot of work to talk.”

“I can talk,” Megumi mutters after working his jaw again. You’re not sure if he realizes he does it. For a long time, you didn’t. It was always the biggest indicator to everyone else that you were having a day where you didn’t want to talk. “Don’t lie to me to make me feel better.”

“Are you saying I wrote like two different people to lie to you?” Your logic has his scowl deepening. “I was only offering.”

“Why aren’t you yelling at me?”

“Tsumiki said you asked her and Satoru to be quiet. You ran away here because there’s no noise, right?”

He crosses his arms over his chest. “Weren’t you worried?”

“I was, but that doesn’t mean I need to yell at you. I hate when people do it to me, so I try not doing it to others.”

If you didn’t have a suspicion of what’s going on, Megumi’s growing frustration would hurt. But you notice how he’s blinking rapidly. In the dying light of the afternoon, what streaks through the shuttered windows, you see the shine of unshed tears. “Stop treating me like a kid!”

“But you are one, Megumi,” you point out gently. “I know you’ve felt like you need to be strong for Tsumiki for a long time, but you don’t have to be that anymore, okay? I want Tsumiki and you to be able to be children.” He doesn’t have to be so defensive anymore. He’ll probably always seem more mature for his age. You can’t count how many people told you that when you were growing up.

“It’s not like that,” he hisses with flushed cheeks.

“Okay,” you accept while holding your arms up in surrender. If you push too much, he’ll shut down completely. “I actually want to talk to you about something else, anyway.” You tap the blunt end of your pencil against the page, trying to figure out how to best navigate this conversation. He doesn’t want to be coddled. You think that even asking him outright might put him on the defense because it might seem like a weakness he doesn’t want to admit to. “Satoru has the Six Eyes. He told you that, right? He said that’s why he wears sunglasses inside?” Megumi nods hesitantly, probably confused where you’re going with this. “Do you know why I wear them inside?”

“Thought it was because you have a weird technique like him,” he mumbles.

“No, no. It has nothing to do with my technique at all.” You pull off the pair with you from where they’re perched on the top of your head. “For me, there are days where it’s way too bright everywhere. It was cloudy this morning, but that was still too much for me, so I wore my sunglasses.”

Megumi shifts, his anger replaced by confusion. “Okay…”

Right. You should be more open. “It’s been like this all my life. My brain has always worked different than everyone else, and I mean sorcerers and non-sorcerers. It was a rough morning for me, too. I was in my closet for fifteen minutes, trying to figure out what to wear because all my shirt just felt wrong on my skin. Then, I didn’t have breakfast because I was out of the cereal that I always eat, and I couldn’t stand the thought of eating anything else when I went to the konbini. I have a way that I want my day to go and if it doesn’t, it makes me so upset that I could cry.”

Slowly, his eyes widen. You turn your head away just as he’s turning his toward you, knowing he’ll shy away if he sees you looking right at him. It’s scary, at first, to be truly seen. “That’s normal…” His voice trails off, unsure.

“Sure, people can shop and not like how a shirt feels, but it doesn’t make their skin crawl if they wear it. It’s not the first thing they shop for. For other people, they think about how it looks before they ever think about how it feels. The same goes with foods, too. They don’t like how it tastes. I have to worry about how it feels before the taste. I hate octopus. The way it feels in my mouth makes me want to throw up every single time I eat it.”

In your peripheral, you see his head drop. He’s staring at the notebook in his lap, fiddling with the pages. “Why are you telling me this?”

“I want you to know me,” which is true but not the whole truth. “That’s another thing about me. It’s hard for me to get to know people and the other way around. Being around so many of them at the same time is hard. Riding the train when it’s packed—” you shudder. “I hate being touched by strangers. Actually, there are some days where I don’t want to be touched at all. And I always feel like I’ve got to…wear a mask. My teachers always scolded me because I wasn’t following the rules and when I asked what rules, I was expected to know societal rules. Unspoken rules. It’s like I’ve been trying to learn a language that everyone else but me knows how to speak.”

His bottom lip quivers. “You’re lying, aren’t you?”

“Do you want me to call Suguru? He’s been with me all my life. He can confirm. And I’m thankful I had him. I followed his lead a lot to learn how to interact with people. If I needed space, even from him, he never made me feel bad about that.” Megumi’s shoulders climb up, almost at his ears. “Suguru’s always been my person. Someone I feel safe to be myself with without having to act like everyone else. But there are times where I just need to be alone because it’s too much. I’m an adult now, so I don’t have a teacher telling me I can’t do things to make myself feel better. I can listen to music on the train when my brain can’t filter noise out. I can wear sunglasses without a teacher telling me to take them off. I don’t have to wear a school uniform that’s stiff and clingy.”

He grips the cuffs of his pants. “Don’t brag.”

“I’m not bragging. I’m telling you that I feel the same way you are. I want you to know that you don’t have to go through this alone.” You dig your MP3 player out of your little backpack, carefully placing it on the blanket between you and him. “I like to listen to this on my way to and from work. It helps muffle things, helps me calm down after the stress of work. I wore sunglasses, too. I can’t make things better at school, but I can help it so that you don’t have to feel so bad all the time. Home should be a place where you feel safe and yourself.”

“But Tsumiki—”

“I can talk to her if you don’t want to. I can explain that you need space sometimes. Tsumiki loves you. She’s the kindest person we know, right? She’ll know that you still love her, even if you’re not around her all the time.”

The tears plopping down on his pant legs make your heart cleave right in two. His shuddering breaths shatter the already broken pieces of your heart. “She’ll…” Both his fists clench. “She’ll be lonely,” he manages to say, though his voice trembles.

“She won’t,” you disagree, “because you two have us now. If you’re scared that she’ll be too lonely without you, all you have to do is call one of us and we’ll be there. Satoru, me, Suguru, Shoko—we’re here for you. But no more running, alright? She tries to be brave for you, but I know Tsumiki worries when you disappear.”

“Okay,” Megumi agrees softly while roughly wiping at his eyes.

“Okay,” you repeat with a nod and soft smile. “Do you want to borrow my MP3 player while we walk home?”

Megumi’s cheeks are dark, but he nods. You pass it over and, as he settles into them, you stand up and start gathering your things. He does the same. You follow him out of the room and when you’re at the front door, something slips into your hand. A smaller hand. Megumi’s hand.

“Just so I don’t get lost,” he mumbles under his breath. “Don’t make it weird.”

You have to bite back a smile. You want to drop down on your knees and wrap your arms around him. You don’t. You simply squeeze his hand really hard to acknowledge that you’ve heard him.

There is something so incredibly special about being trusted like this, but, for now, it has to be your little secret.

[MAY 2010]

May comes and turns the world upside-down.

It’s a deceptively calm start to the day.

Just as you’re about to walk into a meeting with some fresh-faced auxiliary managers, Satoru calls. You excuse yourself with an apologetic smile and brief bow before darting out of the room and answering the call. “Are you okay?” Satoru never calls when you’re at work unless it’s an emergency. He’ll text, knowing you’ll get to it when you do.

“Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?”

You pinch the bridge of your nose, sighing. “I have a meeting.”

“It’ll be quick, I promise! I have something really, really important to ask you!”

“Fine. What is it?”

“Do you want a lusty cursed spirit?”

This is going to be a conversation that needs to be had in private, so you duck inside a restroom, locking the door behind you. “A what?”

“Man, it’s like you’re never nosy and peeking at my assignments!” Once you were introduced to his clan last year, word quickly spread through the rest of the community that you and Satoru were in a relationship. Because of that, you’re not officially allowed to interact with his work. “Anyway, I’m at some abandoned love hotel!”

“Is that all? How do you know it’s a lusty curse then?”

“Eh? Aren’t you the one that’s been studying how locations impact a curse’s shape and abilities? Oh, and all the poor suckers get chewed on while they’re fucking. I forgot to mention that.”

“The reason I’m doing research is because it’s a theory.”

“Well, this’ll be more proof!”

Ugh. You know he’s right. It’ll definitely be a sex-themed curse. It might be the only emotion that you’ve never run across. You want to study it. You crave to dig further into what about love hotels make them more resistant to cursed spirits. But there’s a big problem. “I can’t get away from work right now.”

“That’s fine! I was gonna bug Suguru to come gobble it up so you can see it later.”

“He’s in class. Y’know, that place where you should be trying to get back to as soon as possible?”

“Yeah, but he’ll definitely want to ditch when I ask him to come over here. He’s been talking about how bored he’s been with just working out. I might even let him do the work for me.”

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that,” you deadpan. Suguru is only to be pulled for extreme cases where Satoru isn’t available to handle it himself. Satoru isn’t allowed to invite just anyone without clearance. Not that clearance has ever stopped Satoru before, but you need some plausible deniability.

“What? Who said that? I didn’t hear anything, either.” You laugh. “So, if we don’t get back in time, can you please, please, please pick up the dynamic duo? I know he’s going to ask, so I’m getting to it ahead of time.”

His excitement is infectious. You can’t blame him. It’s been a long time since he’s had anyone with him on a mission. It helps break the monotony of work to have someone else there. You miss the rush of being out in the field, too. There’s such a rush when you’ve got a curse pacified and get up close, knowing that they could break free at any moment. Sometimes, you just want to crack something open…

Okay, you might be a freak.

“I’ll pick them up.” He gives a loud whoop of triumph. “Be safe, have fun, and I’ll see you tonight.”

“Best girlfriend ever. See you tonight, Sketch.”

Out on the street in front of your apartment building, you sense Satoru’s presence which makes you feel…a little frustrated. You texted him all day, asking for updates, and he never responded. Not him or Suguru. You weren’t worried, per se, but a check-in now and then wouldn’t hurt. You assumed they took time to play around with the spirit and spent the rest of the day playing hooky from classes, but it’s getting late now.

You glance down at your hands—one clutching the high school photo album that Shoko found and shared with you and the kids and the other with a plastic bag full of leftover takeout. You debate on if you should turn back and grab Satoru something from the konbini but decide that he’s a big boy and can get his own food.

The closer you get to your door, the more worried you get. The anxiety is half-yours and half-Satoru’s, you realize. It’s so potent that his cursed energy is fluctuating wildly and his emotions are radiating out to you. No one was hurt. Headquarters would’ve called you since Satoru and Suguru have put you as their emergency contact. Suguru didn’t go off the rails, clearly, since you’re alive and kicking.

Did they play too hard and cause some property damage? No, that can’t be it, either. Satoru never worries much about those kinds of things. Higher-ups give you a lecture to pass down to him, but he’s never nervous about those. He’ll worm his way back into your good graces instead. So, really, what could it be?

Toru leaps from his cat tower into your arms as soon as the door opens, causing you to drop the photo album with a grunt. You should’ve known better to have your hands full. He chirrups when you greet him by nuzzling your face against the top of his head. Cradling him with one arm, you bend down to pick up the album, then head to the kitchen to drop everything off—Toru included.

“No treats until you’ve eaten all of dinner,” you tell him seriously after glancing at their food bowls. Gato’s is gone, but not Toru’s. He gets up on the counter like right now, yowling for a treat. “No,” you say sternly. You point over at his bowl. “You need to finish dinner first.” Another yowl, but you ignore it, instead opening the cabinet to grab a box of Pocky. Ironically, it’s in the same place as the cat treats. A small kitty and a big one.

You caught a glance of Satoru on the couch. “Tell me what you did that’s got you feeling that way, and I’ll give you Pocky,” you announce loudly as you’re leaving the kitchen. You stop when you really look at him. He’s staring at the wall blankly and leg bouncing fast and aggressively. His blazer is torn open, shirt untucked from his waistband, hair a wild mess, bandages torn a bit and hanging loosely around his neck, and there are marks along his neck. “Satoru!” You sprint over and drop down on your knees in front of him. He flinches when you touch his knees, making you throw your hands up. “Satoru, what’s wrong? Where is Suguru? What happened? Are you both okay?”

“He’s…he went to…” His wide eyes drop down to you. You can’t figure out the emotions behind the blue. “He had to confess to…her…what happened…”

Her, meaning Kuronuma. Satoru refuses to call her by her name. He hasn’t taken to the change in routine well. Besides, it’s always been hard for him to really warm up to people. “Confess? Like…as in…a love confession?” The thought of that has your panic rising. Is he moving too fast? It feels like it’s moving too fast. “What—”

“We fucked!” Satoru blurts.

You rear back, blinking in shock. “Yes? We did? What does that have to do with anything?”

“No, that’s not—” he hunches over, holding his face in his hands, groaning. “Me and Suguru fucked, Sketch.”

You can’t quite hold back the sigh of relief. Why is Satoru and Suguru sleeping together a comfort compared to the panic of Suguru possibly confessing to Kuronuma? “Okay.” You take a calming breath. “Okay, that does explain what those red marks are.” They’re hickeys. You should’ve known. Satoru loves to leave them on you, after all. “Alright, calm down. Explain what happened.”

Satoru finally pulls his hands away, staring at you in disbelief. “You hear that, and you’re calm?”

“Satoru,” you start patiently, “I know you. You’ve been in love with me since high school. You’ve seen the worst in me and still stuck around.” He bites his lip, looking away guiltily. “And you look like you could die from the guilt right now,” you add. “I know Suguru, too. He’d probably tear your balls off if you even thought about cheating on me, let alone be the person you cheat with.”

“You have a disgusting amount of faith in me,” he whispers hoarsely.

“Well, you have a disgusting amount of love for me,” you shoot back fondly. “You underestimated the curse, didn’t you?” He nods slowly. Sighing shakily, he leans back against the couch. “Is it okay for me to get in your lap? I really want to hold you right now. You look like you need it.”

“I do.” You slip up into his lap when he opens his arms wide, shoving your face in the crook of his neck. Your lips brush against his skin instinctively before you realize that…Suguru also kissed Satoru here. That fucks with your head a little. It sends a little shiver down your spine. It’s only Satoru speaking that pulls you back from thinking too much about that. “And, yeah, we really underestimated that thing.”

“Did you exorcise it?”

He jostles you in his lap, huffing in offense. “Now is not the time to nerd out.”

“Sorry, sorry.” You lean back, taking his cheeks in your hands, examining him critically. His lips are red, swollen. He blinks, but his pupils dilate as they normally should. Kissing him like that, getting in his lap—it usually makes him start to chub up, but he’s soft right now. Not even a twitch. “Tell me what happened.”

“It was gross,” he starts with a shudder. “It was spewing this…like…liquid everywhere. I didn’t understand until it was too late that that’s how it was infecting victims. It would slip its spit, I guess, in their drinks—”

Your nose wrinkles in disgust. “You swallowed it?”

He nods miserably. “It pissed me off, so I blew it into pieces. It was like this…tentacle monster.” You raise a brow, and he flushes. “Shut up. You watch it, too,” he hisses. You shrug. Guilty as charged. “But the…aphrodisiac…it was already taking effect. We didn’t figure that out until it was too late.”

Your brows furrow in confusion. That doesn’t sound right. “You exorcised it, and the poison was still working?”

He grimaces. “Yeah, uh…that…wasn’t just spit that it was throwing around.” His face goes a deep shade of red, and he touches his belly. “What I thought was his dick started squirming.”

“Ooh.” You understand now. That’s fascinating, not that you’ll tell Satoru. “It’s like those Alien movies. A parasite. While the victim is busy fucking, they don’t notice the thing growing inside them. Or…maybe it’s actually like an octopus. They have brains in their arms. Maybe it feeds on the energy then moves back to the main body.”

“You’re getting distracted again,” he points out wryly.

“Oh. Sorry. Carry on.”

“I’m never letting Suguru go on another mission ever, by the way. He had to use the piece inside me because he couldn’t find it mixed in inside himself and all his arsenal.”

“Use…oh.” Your eyes widen. “Oh, Satoru.” You move some hair away from his face. “You tasted it when you threw it up?” He nods. “I’m shocked. No one but him is able to touch them normally. That must’ve been rough. Did they taste as bad as he says they do?”

“Worse.”

You cup his cheeks again. “Are you okay? Be honest with me.”

“Am I okay? I fucked Suguru, cheated on you, and you’re asking how I’m doing?”

How can he not understand? “It’s not cheating. You were under the influence of a curse—”

“We were halfway home,” he interrupts. “We could’ve…we should’ve waited—”

You place your hand over his mouth to silence him. “I am going to be very clear about this,” you start slowly, carefully. “You did not cheat on me. I—me, myself—am telling you that I do not consider it cheating. You shouldn’t, either. You were with Suguru who, other than you, is the person I trust the most. Do you understand?” He’s conflicted but hesitantly nods. “Good. Now, I am going to ask you again—are you okay? This thing…it made you do something you didn’t want to—”

Satoru yanks your hand away so he can blurt, “But what if I did?”

“Yeah, of course you did. That’s the problem. The curse made you want it.”

“But—”

The ringing of your phone interrupts what he’s about to say. You rush to pull it out of your pocket because it could be Shoko calling about the kids or, hopefully, Suguru. It’s not him, exactly, but it’s the next best thing—Kuronuma. You flash him the screen, showing the name so he understands the importance of you taking the call.

“Is Suguru with you?”

“Hello to you, too,” she says through her sniffling. Her voice is wobbly and thick with tears. “And, no, he’s not. I made him leave. Do you want to come over and be miserable together?”

You pull yourself away from Satoru’s lap, standing up, and nearly shouting, “You made him leave?”

There’s a pause on her end. “Did you not make Gojo leave?”

“Why the hell would I do that?”

Kuronuma says your surname softly. It doesn’t help calm you down. You’re furious already and your anger spikes when she adds, “They cheated.”

“Did you even listen to him explain what happened? A curse made them do it.”

She scoffs. “Right, because people don’t lie to justify their bad choices.”

You press a thumb against the center of your throbbing forehead. “Except there’s proof. You’ve been dating him for months and you still don’t understand that he’s not that type of person? If you stopped to think then you could’ve asked him to summon the spirit,” you spit.

“They could have waited. Gojo told you that, too, right? They spent hours together. Hours where they could’ve been with their partners. Hours where they could’ve talked with you, the expert.” Ugh. Why is she not getting it? She’s punishing Suguru and for what? “You can’t be that naïve. You don’t understand it, do you? They wanted this. I’ve always been uncomfortable with how they act around each other. Do you not see it?”

You groan in exasperation. “You just don’t get it. They’ve always been like this. They act that way around me, too.” You shake your head, disgusted. “I’m sorry, Kuronuma, but I have to go. I’m going to find Suguru. Someone needs to be there to take care of him.”

“Go ahead,” Satoru encourages as soon as you hang up on her. “I’ll be waiting.”

Thank goodness that you remember where Kuronuma lives, even if she’s only invited you over once before. Suguru has already made his way away from her place, but his massive energy is like a beacon when you’re in the area. He’s at a small park, the aforementioned cursed energy relatively calm compared to how Satoru’s had been. Seated on a bench, arms spread out across the back of it, his head is tilted back, and an unlit cigarette is dangling from his lips.

Relief floods through you and the sprint that you’d taken up since you got off the train slows to a brisk walk. He’s trying to quit smoking, you know that, so you grabbed some gum on your way out the door. You’re fumbling to pull it out of your bag and shove it right in his face when you shout his name to grab his attention.

Suguru’s eyes cross, the packet of gum is so close to his face. You breathlessly explain, “For getting the taste of curses out of your mouth and because I know you want to smoke.” His eyes lift, staring at you with an unreadable expression. There’s a bitter twist to his mouth. His eyes shine with unshed tears. “I don’t care about what happened,” you rush to assure him because he must feel even guiltier than Satoru. “I only care if you’re okay.”

He ducks his head down, laughing in disbelief and shaking his head. “You don’t need to force yourself. I can take care of myself, okay?”

This is a very familiar situation. Déjà vu. Him below you, on his knees, slipping your shoes off. “In all our years together,” you start to repeat his own words back with a meek smile, “has it ever crossed your mind that I like taking care of you?” Slowly, his eyes widen. You wonder if he remembers. He does and you forgot how the rest of that day had turned out, how you’d went on to fight with him in the shower later until his eyes and smile are laced with pain. “I mean it! I want to take care of you, too!”

“I know you do,” he whispers and carefully takes the gum. “Even when I’ve betrayed you.”

“It wasn’t betrayal,” you shoot back angrily. Shit. You shouldn’t take out your anger on him, but your tone is wrong. “That was unbelievably cruel of her to blame you like that.”

“No, she was right. We should have waited.” He pauses before looking away and admitting, “She was right about a lot of things.”

“If you hadn’t been around, Satoru would have a hole in his chest.”

His face goes as flat as Satoru’s. “We’d been at it for a long time before we noticed the things inside us.”

“I do not care,” you stress furiously. “Me blaming you two for how you acted under the influence would be like…like blaming a poisoning victim throw up on my shoes or something! It’s stupid and wrong!”

“You’d have been able to figure out the problem as soon as you saw us. If you saw Satoru in the state he was in, you would’ve immediately known something was wrong.”

“Right, and I would’ve had to wait for you, out of your mind, to make it to us in time,” you point out dryly.

“You could’ve pacified it until I got there.”

“That’s a pretty bold claim to make about my technique. Who knows if I would’ve been able to reach that thing through Satoru’s cursed energy? I’m not even sure that I could control it if it kept feeding off Satoru’s energy. I imagine it was probably like a fucking buffet to that spirit.” You reach out to grab his chin, force him to face you, fingers digging in deep. “Stop trying to find ways for me to blame you, damn it. I’m not changing my mind about this. Just tell me how the fuck you’re doing right now. Are you okay?”

There’s a comforting mischievous glint in his eyes. “You’ve fucked Satoru before. I’m sure you know that I am very okay.”

You pull your hand away and flop down on the bench next to him, knowing that he’s…somewhat okay. “Well, considering that I don’t have a dick, I actually don’t know how it feels to fuck him. Getting fucked by him, that I do know.”

He hunches over, putting an elbow on his knee so he can hold his cheek with his hand, facing you with a little pout. “Why are you immediately assuming that I fucked him?”

“Because he’s asked me to put my fingers in his ass,” you answer bluntly.

It gives you the reaction you were looking for—a stunned laugh. “Sometimes, I worry about how little everything affects you.”

“False. I am super anxious.”

“About the wrong things, sure,” he teases. “What if I told you that I wanted to fuck Satoru?”

“He is very handsome, and he does have really good dick game.” You scrutinize him. “Not that you’d know, I guess. I mean, you could’ve had him fuck you. Did you?”

His cheeks turn almost as red as Satoru’s had. “I’m not discussing this with you.”

“Pity.”

After a moment of silence, Suguru asks, in total disbelief, “You’re really not mad at me, are you?”

“No! How could I be? I’m only freaked out because this stupid curse controlled you.” You breathe deep and it shudders when you exhale. “I’m so happy that you’re both okay. And…” Don’t say it. Don’t say it. Don’t fucking say it. “I…I can talk to her more, if you want. I can’t say we ended our call on the best terms, but if you pull out the spirit to show her and I break out the cursed spirit expertise—”

It hurts. To even force those words out, it hurts. It shouldn’t. Just like it should hurt to know that they could’ve waited to come back to you. No, wait, that’s not right, either. Because only Satoru should’ve come back to you. None of this is right. You hurt in the places you shouldn’t, don’t hurt in the places you should.

“No,” Suguru interrupts softly. Gaze set on the horizon, sky an explosion of oranges and yellow as the sun sets, he laughs. “No, it’s honestly okay. I don’t think things were ever going to work out with her, anyway.” He turns to you, then, and your eyes widen when his face cracks into a smile. “If she doesn’t have my best friend’s approval anymore, why bother? The only opinion that’s ever mattered to me is yours, Squid.”

Something happens.

It starts with a simple thought—Suguru’s smile has never changed, has it? You remember those pictures from high school, but then your memory stretches back further. Plucking at random times like snapshots, it’s only more confirmation that it truly has never changed. His eyes closed and arched like little crescent moons, smile stretched so wide and white teeth on display. He gives you that grin, that…

This is that carefree smile that he once swore he would never wear again and that’s just when everything finally clicks into place.

No. That’s not quite right, either. It’s the catalyst, maybe. The first thought of many more that keep falling into place, completing a puzzle that you’d never taken a step back to examine the full scope of.

Did she see this, too?

The state of your heart is truly a mess right now. Fit to burst with emotion yet bleeding out because there’s been a razor wire locked around it with his name on it. Even the thought of someone else getting this from him makes you feel like some kind of rabid animal. Flashing sharp teeth at outsiders, greedily clinging to him, claws sunk in deep. If you could bury yourself inside his chest, could curl yourself around his delicate heart, you would. Who else will protect it?

It’s more than that, though, you’re realizing.

I don’t want anyone else to have this.

I want to keep you all to myself.

All your happiness, all your sadness, all your anger, all your regrets…

I want it all.

Satoru’s voice rings in your head, clear as a bell—I want every single part of you, even the ugliest ones.

You have that kneejerk reaction. I shouldn’t think that way about Suguru. Because it’s not supposed to be the same. Satoru is in love with you. It shouldn’t feel the same…but it does. And that is when you finally understand the truth that’s been there in plain sight for so, so long.

I love you.

Every high and low of his life, every little thing about him, every habit, every single version of him—you love it all. You love him. You’re in love with him. It’s always been this way. That’s why the revelation doesn’t feel like such a punch in the gut like it had with Satoru. Just like Suguru, this epiphany is gentle as a rolling wave. You have always walked side-by-side, hand-in-hand with this reality, with this love.

How could this not have dawned on you sooner? All the wasted years…

…but what about Satoru?

Reality comes crashing in like a freight train. Your hand flies up to cover your mouth and hide the dawning horror. You’re in love with Suguru. You’re in a relationship with Satoru and you’re in love with another mani. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. The one that should be feeling guilty is you. You’re the cheater!

“Squid?” Suguru’s worried voice reaches you through the rising panic. You flinch when his hand touches the corner of your eye where a tear slipped out. “What’s wrong? Why are you crying?”

You’re crying because your heart is breaking. You’re…you’re going to have to tell Satoru the truth. He’s been through so much and you’re going to make it worse. But you lie. Because you’re a terrible fucking person. “It…that was really sweet.” You force a smile. You start scrubbing at your eyes. “It hit me how lucky I am to have you!”

Suguru laughs, leaning forward to bump his forehead against yours. “You’re so silly, getting emotional at the most random of times.”

Why did you make me love you?

I was never supposed to fall in love with you.

“…eh?”

It would eat you alive, this secret, so you blurted it out as soon as you got home and saw Satoru there in the kitchen, a Pocky stick from that pack you brought him in his mouth.

“I said,” your voice is trembling, along with every other part of your body, “that I’m in love with Suguru.” Satoru’s mouth parts, the Pocky falling to the floor, and his shock makes you burst out into ugly sobbing. You have no fucking right to be crying right now. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I’m the worst person—”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Satoru carefully guides you over to a chair, getting you to sit down despite your pathetic blubbering. He drops down on his knees in front of you, a mirror of earlier when you were trying to comfort him. You’re the worst person, the scum of the earth. He was feeling so awful when the true betrayer was right in front of him. “Sketch, darling, you gotta calm down for me so we can talk.”

“Be angry at me!”

He gives a lop-sided grin. “If I do that, you’ll cry harder, and we won’t be able to talk even longer.” He then coaches you through taking deep breaths to calm down, having been on the other end of your breakdowns before. “It’s okay. It’s okay,” he tries to soothe.

You wail, “It’s not! I have to break up with you! That’s not okay! I don’t want to!”

“Why not?”

You blink. “Huh?”

“Why don’t you want to break up with me?”

“Because I love you!” The most baffling thing happens—Satoru smiles. Actually grins. Just like Suguru had, this is Satoru’s truest smile. “Why are you smiling? This isn’t funny! I’m in love with Suguru! I’m a cheater!”

“Too.”

“What?”

“You’re in love with Suguru, too,” he stresses. “You’re in love with me and Suguru…right?”

“…yes?”

“Okay.” His expression is no longer so silly. He’s serious. Is the gravity of the situation finally hitting him? “And tell me if I’m wrong here, but it sounds like you want to be with me and Suguru, too. Is that right?”

Oh. Well, that goes without saying. Obviously, you would love that, but there’s a problem. “That’s not allowed?”

“Who says?”

“Uh…” Your mind goes blank. “…society?” That’s a pitiful answer. There’s nothing better, though. All your life, there has only been romantic love between two people. If someone falls in love with another person, they’re cheating. There are a lot of people who say that me liking girls is wrong, Shoko had told you once. So, if everyone cares about everyone else involved, then what’s wrong with more than two people in a relationship?

“Since when have we ever cared about that?”

Your brows furrow. “We?”

“Jeez, you’re such a space cadet, Sketch. You haven’t figured it out yet?” Figured what out? “Think about it. You told me you’re in love with another man, but I’m not mad about it. Actually, I’ve been walking you through understanding your feelings. Why would I do that?”

I’ve always been uncomfortable with how they act around each other. Do you not see it? You hadn’t understood what Kuronuma wanted you to see, but you think you’re starting to get it now. Or…maybe…subconsciously, you had. After all, you’d responded with, they act that way around me.

When I say you, I mean you and Suguru. You’re like a package deal inside my brain. You’re both equally the most important people in my life.

“You’re…” He nods eagerly, encouraging you to go on. “…in love with Suguru, too…”

“Yes,” he breathes out. The breath leaves him with a whoosh and his shoulders sag, as if a great weight has been lifted from them, and you suppose it has. Shoko is going to be insufferable when she finds out that she’s been right about everything since the start. “You figured it out. Finally.”

Finally? Finally?! “You were in love with another person the whole time that we’ve been together?!”

“So were you!”

“But I didn’t know that!”

Satoru snorts, hunches over to press his forehead against your knee, and laughs. Loud and free. And you laugh right along with him. It’s such an insanely ridiculous situation that you’ve found yourselves in. And, yeah, it’s a little freeing, too. There’s no more confusion, no more policing your own thoughts, flinching away from anything too taboo. Your laughter dies down as a deep, deep sadness takes root inside you.

You think that you’ve been in denial for so long. There have been so many things that you were hung up on. Maybe that’s why you never let yourself go there. You thought yourself a burden to him and by the time it got through your thick skull that Suguru needed you as much as you needed him, you were both too broken to even worry about things like love.

“Satoru,” you call out softly. He tilts his head up, chin on your knee, humming in acknowledgement. “Thank you.”

“Uh…for what?”

“I’m a little sad…that I went all these years and never figured it out. It feels like so much time was wasted. But…I honestly don’t think that I ever would’ve felt ready to love him if I hadn’t met you,” you admit. “You’ve helped me so much. I needed to see you being yourself, open and unashamed. I needed to accept your love because, otherwise, I’m not sure I’d ever figure out how to love him right. I’d always be doubting myself without you.”

Satoru stares at you with wide eyes for so long that it makes you feel self-conscious. “Are—” his voice cracks. “Are you thanking me for my shitty personality?”

“You’re a little more than the shitty parts of your personality.” You grin playfully. “Just a little.”

Suddenly, he’s full of determination. It’s written all over his face and he straightens, chest puffed out. “I’m fucking you right here on the floor.”

“No, you definitely are not fucking me on the floor! Not unless you’ve cleaned it!”

“Ugh, fine, on the table!”

“We eat there, you animal!”

“I’ll douse it in bleach!”

“But it’s knowing that we did it there! One of the kids will be sitting at the table and I’ll just be thinking about how my ass was right where their plate was!”

Satoru starts laughing again, joyful and beautiful. There are tears in his eyes. “I hate how much I love you. I really, really do.”

[tumblingaroundtofindout]

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

MAY I?

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

Medkit was never a fan of physical contact. Often shrugging off the hands of those that decided to touch him and giving them the disgusted look like they just smeared contaminants on him.

Sure. He can tolerate some of Sword's buddy buddy antics: fist bumps, shoulder-side hugs, playful punches. But all the others? Forget it. Like, just the sight of some of them already drains away whatever patience he has left, how much more if they gave even a slight nudge with their elbow?

Even when he got together with you, who is very touchy, he still doesn't like physical contacts. But, again, he tolerates yours and Sword's.

He hates it. Disgusted by it even. So it surprised him when he mindlessly rested his chin on your shoulder while you were in the kitchen, cooking.

Was he tired? 

Maybe…

His face was a blushing mess. More so when he attempted to hide his face by burying it on your neck.

You could only giggle at his embarrassment. You didn't mind the contact, though it does feel weird a bit since…Medkit doesn't usually initiate physical contacts.

"I'm sorry about this…" Came his muffled, irritated voice. Irritated at himself at least.

You scoffed, amused and just let him be. "Nothing to be sorry about dear. You know I don't mind."

Your voice was gentle. Always soothing to his ears. 

Should I…? He thought to himself.

Lifting his head, he gazed at you from the corner of his eye. His throat feeling dry as he tried to form a sentence.

"Can I…" he swallowed and averted his gaze. "Hug you…?"

You hummed and just continued chopping the carrots and potatoes after peeling them. Now seeming unbothered.

Medkit waited for her reply, all the while his face was just burning with embarrassment.

"I don't know." You teased, "Can you?

You were joking. He knew that, and just scoffed at your sass. His face mildly cooling off with his irritation at your answer.

"May I hug you." He rolled his eye, unamused, yet grateful for the banter.

You giggled again. "Of course. I don't mind."

"I thought so…" he whispered.

Gingerly, he wrapped his arms around your waist and the burning sensation in his cheeks returned as he inhaled your scent and tightened his hold around you.

So he stayed like that for a while as you finished cooking. Even when you warned him about the steam and splash of soup, or how you almost tripped, he still didn't mind.

You don't mind it too. But it does make you moving around the kitchen more difficult with a koala the size of a grown man tenderly embracing you.

No matter. You can just tell him off next time. Or you could get used to this.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

Of course the sample story is about Medkit. Gotta love that touch-deprived doctor. Got an idea? Write about it! Or share it and I'll write about it! Probably!

[jijournal]

hi love!! i absolutely adore your writing style, especially in your oliver wood fic! i wanted to request for an angry confession under the rain with oliver? thank you so much!! ❤️‍🩹 lots of love!

Lovely To Be Rained On With You.

summary: Angry love confession in the rain with oliver wood

wc: 800

A/N: Wrote this while listening to ceilings by lizzy mcalpine on reapeat, it was torture. So sorry for the wait, but I'M BACK!!!!! 💞

⊱ ─── ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ ─── ⊰

The sound of crackling thunder was making it very difficult for the two of you to hear each other properly. The cold wind hugging you instead of a warm blanket. Your shoes are now muddy as you stand in the middle of the quidditch pitch.

You only asked him four simple words—and he went berserk. Four words you thought might change things between you. They did. Just not in the way you hoped.

'Do you like me?' you had said it with hesitance and a pinch of hope he would say yes.

And now here you were, arguing with the one person who confuses you the most—someone who drives you crazy, someone who makes your heart race, someone you were supposed to hate.

"Why do you do this, Wood?" you pant, your whole body shivering from the cold rain. "Why do you make this so hard for us."

"I don't know what you're talking about," he looked as if this was all some stupid game to him, voice taunting—as if he wanted you to admit whatever this was.

Your tears finally fell with the rain.

You don't know when it started pouring, but you were sick of this. Sick of the way he hates and likes you at the same time. You hate the way he was brutal with you around others, but once the eyes that were watching finally vanishes, he runs and holds on to you as if you were his life line.

"Oliver, please stop playing thick with me," you sniff, taking a few steps closer to him.

You can clearly see his face now, brows furrowed, a frown on his face, and his eyes was red as if he was crying, maybe he was.

“I was supposed to hate you. Hate you for everything you did to me. But why can’t I? I hate that I can’t seem to think of another reason to hate you."

You swallowed hard.

"And I hate that you hate me.”

Silence.

Then:

"And I hate that I think I love you," he says softly.

You stared at him, thunder cracking once more above you like the sky was bearing witness to this catastrophe of a confession. The wind whipped between your bodies, yet neither of you moved. His voice echoed in your head over and over again.

“And I hate that I think I love you.”

“Say it again,” you breathed out, your voice shaking—not just from the cold, but from the quake unraveling inside you.

Oliver looked at you as if he had just set himself on fire and was waiting to see if you'd run or burn with him. “Don’t make me repeat it,” he muttered, rubbing his face like he could undo the words.

You stepped closer, only inches from him now. Your soaked clothes clung to your skin like second thoughts. “No. I want you to say it again, because you don’t get to drop that on me like it’s nothing. Not after all the hot and cold. Not after all the pretending.”

He blinked at you, rain running down his cheeks like the words he never got the courage to say before now.

“I love you,” he said again—this time louder. Firmer. Angrier. “I love you and I hate it because it was never supposed to be you. I had a plan—Quidditch, school, focus—but then you happened and now every time you’re near, I forget how to breathe!”

You froze, heart slamming against your ribcage. He looked wrecked. Raw. Like the storm around you had been inside him this entire time.

"You push me away," you whispered, almost accusingly. "Every time I get too close, you pull back like I'm something dangerous."

"Because you are!" he snapped. "You're dangerous because I can't concentrate when you laugh, or when you look at me like you're seeing something good—something worth loving. And I don't know how to be around you without wanting everything."

A sob choked out of you—not out of pain, but out of sheer, unbearable relief. “Then have everything,” you cried, shoving his chest weakly. “If you want everything, then take it! I’m standing right here!”

His hands caught yours mid-push, holding them like they were the only steady thing left in the world. “Are you serious?” he asked hoarsely. “Because if I kiss you now, I won’t be able to stop.”

Your lips parted, trembling. “Then don’t stop.”

And in the middle of the rain-soaked pitch, boots sinking into the muddy ground, Oliver Wood kissed you like he had waited lifetimes for it. Desperate. Furious. Like he was pouring months of confusion and longing into a single, shattering moment.

The storm still raged around you—but for once, the rain felt warm.

⊱ ─── ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ ─── ⊰

masterlist!

[soulsmangione]

@honeyblossombaby @palmersluvr @hiscalliope

you three acting all high and mighty about this when the video initially dropped is what we have a problem with. it’s giving “i had it before all of you! haha!!🫵🏻”

nobody wants to hear the “someone gave it to me that trusted me and they didn’t want me to share!” bullshit. yall think ANY of us are believing that? you’ll say anything to deflect from the real problem at hand. which is the fact that luigi mangione is a real human on trial, and ANY sort of coverage of him is good for him. do we not remember how viral he went in december? we won’t be seeing him until september. people who aren’t as invested will start to slowly forget about him and why it’s important to keep talking about him. a video of him talking could have sparked things again.

and for you, specially vers, to say that we are all pathetic for this, that we care too much about him and have a problem… aren’t YOU the one crashing out weekly and constantly leaving, then coming back? i fear you’re the one with the problem… you try to make people jealous of you when it comes to luigi… always acting so above everybody on here. i’m sad for you. you are literally attempting to gaslight the majority of tumblr into thinking we’re crazy for being upset with yall about this.

obviously we’re going to be upset. because we’re a community here on tumblr. and we already are up against luigi twt, so why would yall cause division on here as well?

it’s giving that ya’ll need to GET OVER YOURSELVES!!! seriously. you are not high and mighty because you’ve got little minions and you ‘got a luigi video months ago’!!!

and the audacity that you all got mad at my best friend for posting it here on tumblr… it shows that you’re the sad one here. it’s not us. truly, please do some reevaluation and realize that we should come together and HELP LUIGI AS MUCH AS WE CAN. THIS IS PATHETIC AND SICKKKKK LIKE i’m actually dying laughing as i type this.

you asked to be @ ed… so here it is. literally just apologize and move on… oh wait, nobody can ever admit when they’re in the wrong in the luigi community so!

[motzglorp]

I kinda wrote the first version of this for @morphoportis and it inspired this one, so I might as well post this in public. Should I use a title? I am still figuring things out.

Summary: afab!Reader is for the TF 141 what Pepper is for the Avengers but there is more and Bucky learns a new thing about himself.

Bucky struggles a bit, trying to find his (although temporary) place in the 141 team dynamic. Since they are waiting for intel, there is not much to do, other than training, relaxing for a day. He is not really used to free time, wary of the carefree attitude Soap and Gaz are showing, but they remind him of Clint and Tony. Ghost seems to get it, joining him at the table, cleaning their knives in silence.

They are family in a similar yet different way the avengers are. Secretly he thinks Steve could learn from Price about leadership but he immediately feels a bit guilty about that thought.

And then there is you. You shouldn't be here. You are too soft for this place, too precious to be around these dangerous men. If you were his (you are not, you are theirs, never forget that, it is not his place to judge), he would make sure you are safe, even from himself. Especially from himself.

But you don't seem to realise that you are surrounded by weapons in human form. You had explained it to Bucky in words that almost make sense.

"You know how Tony Stark could do all these stunts because he has Pepper Pots, yes? Nobody really wants to admit it, but without her, he would be buried in paperwork, meetings, everything. No PA I have heard of can do what she does, she is a genius and instead of following a career of her own, she dedicated her life and brain to the man she loves and the family around him, the avengers. I am their Pepper. Well, I try to be. I mean... I do what I can to make their work easier. I know, that I am no use in battle, but I have contacts, I am good at seeing patterns and I know what they need and I can make sure they get it. I am their lifeline, if needed. And just to make it perfectly clear, as long as you work with them, all of that's includes you." You had giggled and added: "For the time being, you are mine, Sgt. Barnes"

Something settled inside of him. You are mine.

The part of him, that was once The Winter Soldier recognised the meaning behind these words. It was simple. As long as he was here, he belonged to you. To this little pack.

A commotion from the sofa put a stop to his thoughts.

"Johnny MacTavish, you did not just jump my leg like a fucking mutt!" Your voice sounds more annoyed than angry, still everyone in the room is suddenly looking towards Soap, who has the decency of putting on an apologetic smile. "A joke, please forgive me. You know I am.stupid around you sometimes.."

"Sometimes?" Ghost mutters and Bucky is wondering if something like this is a usual occurrence. He never noticed anything so far.

"Oh yes, I know. And I was thinking about rewarding you with a treat tonight, because I know you really behaved like a good boy so far." The expressions on Soaps face changed rapidly from hopeful to realisation.

"So far? Don't joke like that, bonnie, I beg you."

Bucky froze. There was something in your voice, a new quality, like the promise of a command. And watching Soap slowly sinking down on his knees, shoulders straight, hands behind his back, made The Winter Soldier curious and calm at the same time. He didn't even notice that Gaz had left for a moment and now came back with a small box, placing it into your waiting hands.

"There is my good boy. I am so happy, you remember the rules now. I know it has been hard for you, having someone here, in your safe space, that you don't know yet. But we talked about it and you agreed, that we all behave until we know him better, yes?" Your voice is so soft yet stern, understanding, yet disappointed. Soap stays silent, except for a small whine. The Winter Soldier couldn't move, no, he didn't want to move. He had never before heard such a soft command between the words. Making him wish to obey, not forcing. Making him wish you were talking to him, not to the Sargent. He follows the movement of your hands, opening the box and taking out a metal chain, with a small golden ring in the front and a lock in the back. You smile as you turn your head and look Bucky directly in the eyes. "Sorry, this must be a bit confusing. I will answer any questions you might have later. But if you feel uncomfortable, please leave the room." You wait a moment and when Bucky shakes his head you nod and turn back to Soap, putting the chain around his neck, the golden ring right above the clavicle. Another sound escapes Soaps lips, a bit shaky, even if nothing in his posture signals unease. If anything he seems to relax as soon as the chain is on, even more when you lift his chin and cradle his cheek.

"Feel better? You are being so good for me, Jonny. Kneeling so beautifully, showing me, what you need. Even when there is someone watching you, who might not understand. That was very brave and I am proud of you. Now, your actions will still have consequences, but for now I give you a choice. You can stay here with me, just like that, until the movie is over and I will punish you myself. Or you can get it all over with right now and accept your punishment from John."

Another shaky breath and then: "John. Ah need John, please."

Bucky doesn't know how to feel. Why is everyone so calm about this. You are talking about punishing a team member and nobody is stepping in. Instead you seem to be happy about it, genuinely relieved almost. Not the fake softness a sadist would show. Not the cruel games Hydra would play. But how can a punishment be a good thing?

Ghost is watching the Soldier, like he is waiting for something. Your voice is so full of... Love? When you thank Johnny and tell him go find Price in his office. Jonny hesitates for a moment, looking at you with a little uncertainty and you just sigh, but there is a smile on your lips.

"It's okay, Johnny, I am not mad at you. You are still my good boy." Soft, but firm. The Winter Soldier shudders with... what is it? Longing? He doesn't understand the meaning behind everything, but when Soap is gone, he notices how your posture softens and Gaz tucks you onto his lap, holding you in a way, Bucky wished he was allowed to. You must be so soft to hold, to cuddle. It is even more confusing since he just witnessed you commanding a man to accept punishment, who could easily break you in half.

Ghost is still watching him, obviously thinking. "When she sais, she knows what we need, she means it. Not just for the work we do. She knows what we really need, deep inside, where most people don't dare to go. Johnny needs to know that someone cares enough to put him in his place, when he acts out. We all have our things, some similar, some very different. But she gives us what we need. Keeps the team dynamics stable. Keeps us human. Reminds us, that we have something to fight for, to come home to. Grounds us."

There is movement from the sofa as you get up, pulling Gaz with you. "'m tired, bed is calling." You mumble as you come over and place a quick kiss on Simon's shoulder. Then you look at Bucky, brows furrowed for a moment as if deciding what to do with him. It feels almost exciting. Then you smile again. "Thank you for staying calm and not interfering. I know you must have questions, I will gladly answer tomorrow. And remember what I said, as long as you are with us, you are mine to care for. As far as you let me."

It's an invitation. And something inside of him is warm and fuzzy already. He did good. He did not disturb the.. that. You are happy with him. For a moment he wonders how it would be to kneel like that before you, to make you proud. You just smile and turn around one last time before you leave the room.

"James, be a good boy for me and write down all your questions on a piece of paper and bring them to me tomorrow morning. You know where my room is, I will get up around eight."

Another invitation and instructions. Bucky is almost disappointed about the lack of command in your voice, but he feels the Soldier relaxing. Good boy. He can be that. He can be your good boy. Yours.