#it raised more questions than answers really

[miyasmagnolias]

𝐡𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐬 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐰𝐜𝐚𝐬𝐞 𓂇⋆⭒˚｡⋆

miya atsumu x f!reader

you invite atsumu and the boys to your spring dance showcase to raise money for a good cause — and maybe get even after the viral video incident. atsumu, on the other hand? he just wants to ask you out and, if he's lucky, kiss you properly this time around.

part eleven of the in close quarters series, a friends-to-lovers college AU featuring you, atsumu, and the ten months you spend living together senior year.

a/n: a tiny bit of lore, but i used to dance throughout college (and still do to this day), so this one was super fun to write. enjoy! ( ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)

"So...what kind of dance does she do again?"

"Uh..." Atsumu blinked down at the bouquet of flowers like they might contain the answer to Suna's question. "Hip-hop, I think?"

Osamu locked his car and shot his twin brother a judgmental glare. "Haven't ya lived with her for, like, eight months now? Shouldn't ya know what type of dance she does?"

"How am I supposed to know?! It's not like she performs for me in the livin' room or anythin'!"

Osamu's face twisted in disgust. "Oh, you'd like that, wouldn't ya."

Atsumu's face turned beet red. "The fuck is that supposed to mean — ?!"

"To be fair," Aran interjected, ever the pacifist. "Modern dance can blend together a lot of styles — jazz, ballet, hip-hop. It's really not as cut and dry as people think it is."

"See?" Atsumu said, grateful to his team captain for coming to his defense. "It's not as cut and dry as ya think it is!"

Aran gave him a flat stare in return. "Still, I find it baffling that you didn't think to ask."

The four former Inarizaki boys began the long trek from their parallel parking spot to The Bloom Room — a seventies-inspired cocktail lounge nestled in-between campus and downtown. Your university dance troupe had partnered with the small business to host your annual spring showcase, the event doubling as a community-wide fundraiser for a handful of local nonprofits.

Invite the volleyball boys, too! you'd texted Atsumu a few weeks back, along with the link to buy tickets. We need as many people there as possible. The more drinks you buy, the more goes to charity!

Atsumu didn't exactly know who you meant by the 'volleyball boys' — Osamu and Suna didn't really count anymore, and Sakusa wouldn't be caught dead in a place like The Bloom Room. Aran, on the other hand, was a welcome surprise, the captain of the men's volleyball team happily agreeing to go when Atsumu brought it up to him after practice the other day.

"I'll do anything for a good cause," he'd said, though the fluorescent lights of the locker room did nothing to hide his amused expression. "Did you end up wooing her with your extensive knowledge of Pride and Prejudice?"

"I was not tryin' to 'woo' her — I was tryin' to help her with an essay!" Atsumu exclaimed, slamming his locker door shut. "There's a big difference."

"You stopped reading every other sentence just so you could ask me what it meant," Aran said dryly, recalling the two-hour flight back from their first away game. Off the court, he'd never seen Atsumu more concentrated. “If anything, you needed help.”

Atsumu shot his team captain an offended glare. "At least I finished the damn thing. It got good — ya know, once I got used to all the ol' timey English."

Aran folded his arms across his chest and exhaled slowly. "Look, it's clear you've got feelings for this girl. So in addition to reading her favorite books and kissing her on the cheek after games, why don't you just ask her out?"

The setter shifted uncomfortably on his feet. It wasn't as if the thought hadn't crossed his mind before — just that every time it did, it was accompanied by the worst possible outcomes he could think of. Him, finally working up the courage to ask you out. You, laughing in his face. Him, having to sleep in the room next to yours every day while he died of embarrassment. Just thinking about it made Atsumu want to yak.

It was much easier to flirt with you than to actually admit that he liked you, he'd realized. In fact, Atsumu kind of hoped you'd be the first to acknowledge it. He'd dropped more than enough hints for you to catch on.

But as your spring semester continued without so much as a peep, Atsumu realized he didn't have much time left. He needed to fess up to you before you graduated and went on to become a publishing mogul or a Pulitzer Prize winner — or whatever the hell English honors students went on to do after college.

The plan was simple: get you alone after the show, hand you the bouquet he'd spent nearly an hour picking out. Pop the question while somehow keeping his ego intact. Easy peasy.

At least, he thought it was.

"Oh, are you here for Y/N?" a girl with large hoop earrings and a handkerchief for a top said when Atsumu approached the check-in table. "You're her roommate, right? She's told us so much about you!"

"She didn't tell us you'd be bringing a whole team with you," another drawled, twirling a long braid around her perfectly manicured fingers as she sized up his friends. "Sheesh."

Despite himself, a stupid grin broke out on Atsumu's face. "She talks about me?"

The two girls exchanged humored looks from across the table.

"Let's just say she's gonna really love the flowers," the one with the braids replied with a smack of her gum.

"Wish my boyfriend bought me flowers," the one with the earrings chuckled, stamping the back of Atsumu's hand. "Enjoy the show!"

The Bloom Room was bathed in sultry purple lights as Atsumu and his group navigated the crowd of friends and family that had shown up for that evening's showcase. The high-top tables and stools had been cleared out to make room for a dance floor, with rows of folding chairs now lining the perimeter of the space.

"It's awfully intimate, ain't it?" Osamu observed as he sat next to Atsumu in the row closest to the dance floor.

"I'ma grab a drink," Suna quipped, already making a beeline for the bar. Meanwhile, their phones pinged in unison. It was from you.

Are you here yet?? you'd asked in the group chat you had created with all four of them. Did you get good seats?

Atsumu's fingers were already flying across the keyboard.

Yep, front row! Break at leg! Then, before he could stop himself, he added a pink heart emoji and hit send.

"Whoa," Aran said, blinking back at the text message not a moment later. "A heart? Things must be getting pretty serious."

"Shaddup," Atsumu tsked, folding his arms across his chest. At Osamu and Aran's bemused stares, he asked, "What? It ain't the red one! The red one is the serious one!"

"Dunno, man," Aran teased as Osamu stifled his laugh. "A heart's a heart."

Atsumu's confident expression faltered as he said, "W-Well, do ya think it's too much? Should I edit it?

"I think it's a little late for that," Osamu drawled just as their phones pinged again. They all looked down at their screens.

Great! you'd replied, hearting Atsumu's message. Can someone take a video of me pwease?

On it, Suna texted back. He returned a few minutes later with a tequila soda in-hand.

"Dude," he murmured as he sat back down. "What was up with that frilly pink heart? Keep that shit to yourselves."

Atsumu rolled his eyes.

"Good evening, everyone! Take your seats, take your seats," the girl with the hoop earrings said into the microphone as the remainder of the crowd settled in with their drinks. "My name's Mina, and I'd like to personally welcome you to the Silk Club's third annual spring showcase!"

A wave of applause ricocheted through the venue.

"We've got an incredible lineup of talent here tonight representing several on-campus dance orgs, so sit back, relax, and enjoy the show," she said. "As a reminder, all ticket and drink proceeds go towards our city's women's shelter and the center for LGBTQIA+ youth, so I encourage you to get as drunk as humanly possible! It's for a great cause!"

Laughter and applause rippled across the crowd. Beside Atsumu, Suna tipped his cup back until all that was left was ice.

"Now without further ado, I have the pleasure of introducing to you our opening act," Mina continued. "The Silk Club is a group of young women whose mission is to feel empowered and body confident in their dance. This is their third year hosting their annual spring showcase in support of the local nonprofit community, and they are incredibly excited to perform for you all tonight. I myself have been a part of this team for two years now, and I can confidently say there's no other group I'd rather shake ass with to raise money. So without further ado, give it up for Silk!"

The crowd whooped and hollered as several silhouetted figures emerged from the back room and assumed formation on the dance floor. Meanwhile, Atsumu's heart kicked up a notch as he scanned the shadows to find you. Beside him, Osamu frowned.

"Shake ass?" Osamu repeated under his breath. "Don't tell me — "

He was promptly cut off as the opening chords to Mariah Carey's "Obsessed" blared through the speakers, the spotlight flickering on to reveal you — in the tiniest black tube top and skirt — staring back at the audience with a sultry pout on your face.

Aran's eyes widened. Suna nearly choked on his ice. Osamu ran a hand over his face and glanced toward his brother, who — for all intents and purposes — looked like he was about to have a stroke.

Because you were hot. Nay — you were hot as fuck.

And everyone in that room knew it, too.

"I thought she did hip-hop!" Aran yelled over the music as you danced across the floor in your stiletto heels, your confidence radiating with every body roll, every hair flip.

"Dunno what kind of hip-hop you're watching, but this certainly isn't it," Suna shot back dryly, having already hit the record button on his phone.

Except Atsumu wasn't even listening. All that occupied his brain was you. Batting your eyelashes at the audience. Rocking the headscarf you'd styled into your long hair. Touching yourself in places that made Atsumu feel faint. You looked like the seventh member of Katseye, only prettier. How hadn't he known this about you?

"Why you so obsessed with me? Boy, I wanna know..."

The crowd went completely ballistic as all the girls on your team planted their hands on the sticky floor and shook ass in perfect unison. Only then did Atsumu notice the phone in Suna's hands.

"Would ya not film my roommate's ass like that?" he stammered, doing a double-take.

Suna merely shrugged and said, "What? She asked me to."

Then, before Atsumu could argue further, you were sauntering up to him. Soft smile. Pouty lips. Eyes that could disarm him in an instant. You ran a delicate finger along the curve of his jaw, tilted his chin up to look at you. And winked.

For fuck's sake.

"I think you can see the exact moment his soul leaves his body," Suna deadpanned, scrubbing through the video after you and your teammates had struck the final pose to the sounds of ear-splitting applause.

Osamu elbowed his brother in the ribs and said, "Ya alright in there, Tsumu?"

Atsumu just stared at the dance floor as you and your teammates took your bows. Brain empty. Face steadily draining of color. His grip tightened around the bouquet in his lap as he tried to careen himself back to earth.

Asking you out was going to be way harder than he thought.

Atsumu's heart rate more-or-less returned to normal after that, the rest of the show featuring a variety of modern dance crews, cultural clubs, and K-Pop cover groups. Nothing as outrageous as the opener, but perhaps that was for the best. Atsumu didn't need his nervous system compromised for a second time that night — especially with the question he was about to ask you after the show.

The Silk Club closed the showcase with a much tamer, less anxiety-inducing routine to "Rocket" by Doechii, the choreography maintaining your team's signature charm while showcasing your versatility of style. Atsumu cheered for you as you danced your heart out in the center of the room, your energy infectious as the music coursed through your every muscle. From your cheeky smile down to the soles of your sneakers, it was clear you loved being up there. The entire time, Atsumu couldn't stop grinning.

He was the first to give you a standing ovation by the end.

"Seems like Atsumu isn't the only one who can work a crowd," Aran drawled in amusement, standing up so he could clap for you properly. Beside him, Suna snapped about a million pictures.

Osamu merely hummed in agreement and said, "Pretty sure this is the first time he's been more enamored by someone other than himself."

As usual, Atsumu didn't hear a damn thing — just clapped his brother on the shoulder and said, "I'll be right back."

Several families and friend groups had since flooded the dance floor to reunite with their performers, Atsumu shouldering his way through with the bouquet clutched to his chest. Your friend Haru had found you first and was currently gushing to you about your performance, Atsumu maintaining his distance for several nerve-wracking seconds before your eyes eventually latched onto his. Your face broke out into the sunniest smile he'd ever seen, and by God. You were beautiful.

You said goodbye to Haru and made your way towards him. His arms found purchase around your waist as he lifted you several inches off the ground and squeezed you as hard as you could.

"Hi," he murmured into your hair. It smelled of your sweat and shampoo.

"Hi," you whispered back, your voice warm and breathless. "What did you think of the show?"

"I..." Atsumu trailed off, the mental image of you throwing it back flashing across his mind. "I didn't know ya could move like that, that's for sure."

A chuckle rumbled out of you as he set you down. You adjusted the oversized jersey you had changed into for the finale and said, "Yeah. I'm a little embarrassed that you and your friends got a full view of my ass, but it's whatever."

"Well, for what it's worth, it looked good." Then, after realizing what the fuck he'd just said, "You. Y-You looked good, I meant. Shit."

You were full-on laughing at this point. "That's high praise, coming from the king of low sets himself."

The tips of his ears turned red as he finally remembered the bouquet in his hands.

"These are for ya," he said, watching your eyes soften as he gave them to you. You lifted your nose to the assortment of wildflowers like you did with all of your books. "Ya looked incredible up there, Y/N. Seriously."

"...thank you, Tsumu." A shy smile worked its way onto your features before you admitted, "No one's ever gotten me flowers before."

"Ya bein' serious right now?" he asked, equal parts surprised and pleased with himself. You nodded. "Well, that's only cause ya haven't invited the right people before."

You rolled your eyes. "The right people being you?"

"Damn straight," he said, already reaching for you a second time. "Come 'ere."

He wrapped his arms around you in the middle of the crowded dance floor, his cheek resting against the crowd of your head. Relaxing into his embrace, you listened to his heartbeat through this shirt. Steady. Grounding. A little fast. But then again, so was yours.

You craned your neck to look him in the eye. He gazed down at you like you were the only other person in that entire room.

Pulse picking up speed, Atsumu slowly leaned in until he was a mere breath away from grazing your lips against his.

But before he could kiss you, someone was already calling your name.

"Y/N!" Mina hollered, the both of you jumping backwards like two guilt-ridden teenagers. She scanned the dense crowd from the front of the room like a mother who'd just lost her child at the zoo. "Y/N, where the hell are ya?! We're taking a group picture!"

Clearing his throat, Atsumu adjusted the collar of his jacket and tried to channel whatever nonchalance was left in his body. Beside him, you haphazardly tried to fix your hair. The two of you locked eyes once more and, gradually, started to laugh.

"Go," Atsumu said, jerking his chin towards your teammates. "Don't keep 'em waiting."

Mashing your lips together, you looked like you wanted to argue. But your teammates were already calling your name.

"Come out to eat with us afterwards?" you offered, a hopeful expression on your face. "I think a handful of us are going to that new Korean spot downtown. You can bring the boys, too."

Chuckling, Atsumu nodded. "Sure. We'll be there."

"...okay," you eventually managed. It did little to mask the dazed, if not mildly disappointed expression on your face. "I'll see you soon."

And with that, you disappeared into the crowd.

"Ya boys in the mood for Korean food?" Atsumu asked his friends when he found them lingering outside the restrooms.

"Why, what happened?" Osamu asked, shooting his brother a grin. "Yer plan fall through?"

"Yep," Atsumu quipped, throwing an arm around Osamu's shoulders. "I'm 'bout to drown my sorrows in an army stew."

"At least you gave her the bouquet," Aran offered, drying his damp hands on his jeans. "You only spent half the afternoon trying to pick it out."

"Seriously," Suna mumbled, eyes never leaving his phone. "You owe us dinner for the amount of moral support we're showing you right now."

The three of them debated how many dishes to order the entire car ride there. Meanwhile, Atsumu stared out the window, wondering when the hell he'd be able to get you alone.

"I never thought I'd see the day someone actually outdrank Mina," you giggled, fumbling with your keys to the apartment. "How much soju did Suna have?"

"I dunno, but he was scarily composed after all those domino shots," Atsumu murmured as you both entered through the front door and turned on all the lights. "Passed out like a light in the backseat, though."

Even though he'd barely managed to talk to you during dinner, it was surprisingly fun to see you relax for once. You were excited to introduce Atsumu and his friends to the people you had danced with for the past several months, grateful to see everyone get along so well in between spoonfuls of bubbling hot pot.

"It's nice to finally meet the best roommate she's ever had," Mina had teased, already four shots in. She flung a sweaty arm around your shoulders and said, "Her words, not mine!"

At that, Atsumu raised an eyebrow and grinned. "The best, huh?"

Maybe it was the alcohol, but he swore your face turned two shades redder at that.

Now, Atsumu watched from across the kitchenette as you meticulously trimmed the flowers he'd gotten for you, your fingers nimble as you arranged each one into a vase. The gentle hum of the air conditioner filled the silence between you, along with the rhythmic snip of your scissors.

Without looking up, you said, "You're staring."

"Am I?" Atsumu drawled, a smile toying on his lips. "Was just admirin’ yer makeup. Is that what they call a full beat?"

You nearly choked on your laughter. "Where did you learn that from? TikTok?"

He lifted a noncommittal shoulder. "I have my sources."

Smiling, you said, "Well, would you be so kind as to grab my makeup remover from the bathroom? I've been dying to get this off."

Five minutes later, Atsumu poured himself a glass of water as you tried removing your eye makeup with a soaked cotton round, a dark streak of eyeliner now smudged halfway across your face.

"Did I get it?" you asked, blinking at Atsumu from where you sat atop the kitchen counter. Laughing, he put down his glass and began wiping it himself.

"I like when you look like this," he confessed, gently dragging the cotton round across your skin.

Frowning, you said, "Like a rabid raccoon?"

"No, ya twerp. Ya know what I mean."

You didn't say anything for a long while as he continued removing your makeup. You felt your face warm beneath his touch as he did so.

"Thank you for coming to the showcase tonight."

"Of course. I wouldn't have missed it for the world." Then, after a brief pause, "Ya know, as the best roommate you've ever had."

You groaned. "I'm never gonna live that down, am I?"

"Not a chance," Atsumu drawled. He cupped your cheeks with both of his hands and inspected your face from different angles beneath the warm kitchen lights. "There. Squeaky clean."

Neither of you moved as you realized just how close you'd gotten to each other. You, your knees grazing against his torso. Him, the warmth of his palms sending a pulse of electricity down your spine.

"Atsumu..." you breathed, your voice merely a croak.

"...yeah?" he managed, brown eyes searching yours for something — anything — to indicate that you wanted him closer.

"...is there a reason you're always so nice to me?"

Lips parting, he said, "I think ya know why."

You closed the gap and kissed him not a moment later.

Now, Atsumu had imagined what it would be like to kiss you — had even dreamt about it, embarrassingly enough. But nothing, nothing compared to the way your lips worked against his now, each movement slow. Deliberate. Almost like you were asking a question.

You like me? you seemed to ask, fingers curling into his t-shirt, pulling him closer. Atsumu merely cupped the back of your head and deepened the kiss, the feeling of his tongue against yours extinguishing all doubt from your mind.

Yes, he thought, melting into you completely. Yes. I always have.

He braced his hands on either side of the kitchen counter, boxing you in. Your hands slid into his hair. A low moan escaped the back of his throat when you parted your legs for him and wrapped them around his waist. Fuck. He couldn't believe this was happening right now.

But before he let himself fall any further, he had one thing left to ask.

"Wait — wait," he stammered, pulling away from you suddenly. Lips swollen. Hair disheveled. Heart hammering in his chest.

At your confused expression, he asked, "Will ya go to dinner with me?"

Your chest rose and fell as a bemused expression crossed your features. "Are you asking me out right now?"

Atsumu gulped back and said, "I just...I wanna be sure I do this right."

Heart twinging at his words, your hands gently traveled down from his hair to cup both of his cheeks.

"You know, I thought you'd never ask," you drawled, eyes gleaming in adoration as you beheld him. Your roommate. Your friend. Your best friend, if you were being totally honest. "I'd love to."

The stupid grin that broke out on his face had you pulling him in for another kiss.

a/n: thank you for the love on these past couple of chapters, y'all! i'm slowly but surely responding to messages and comments — but in the meantime, please know that i appreciate all of you for reading this sappy lil' fic of mine. it means the world to me.

(next chapter will cover atsumu and y/n's first date mwahaha. stay tuned.)

@miyasmagnolias, 2025

[cosykitchenwitch]

Meanwhile our friends are the ones who really See and Get us, the ones who comfort us on bad days, talk us through grief and loss, cheer for us in our wins and encourage us when we are trying hard things. Our friends are the ones who show up for us when it really matters, and yet they receive so little of our attention and focus.

Every single one of my delightful friendships is full of affection and thoughtful actions, these are the people who remember when I’m going through mental stuff or medical issues and check in regularly so see how I’m doing. These are the people who show me love in the ways I best receive it, who hold me accountable, who forgive my missteps, who ask questions that get me to explore my depths and really *listen* to my answers, who lift me up every time we speak.

My friendships have shown me what REAL love looks like, how people actually can listen and adapt when they want to make me happy and care about how their actions affect me, how people can show up for me and what that feels like to be respected and honored by the people who love me. They show me what a reciprocal relationship would be like. They raise my standards for romance by romancing me every time we get together.

Literally my friendships are more romantic than almost any “romantic” relationship I’ve been part of.

This ode goes out to all the babes I adore and get to call my friends. You’re the realest and best people I know and I hope we get to grow old together. ❤️

If people treated romantic partners the same way they treated friends, they would be considered a terrible partner. I often see people say "I only see my best friends once every few months, that's just how adult friendships are" but they'll see Chad their mediocre boyfriend regularly in the same time period because you're expected to actively make time for your romantic partners, but only passively find empty gaps of time for your friends. A lot of people don't have close adult friendships because it's not socially expected to put actual effort into them, and even if you are, other people often aren't because they're reserving their highest affection, vulnerability and devotion for the idealized perfect partner who just gets all this weight of expectations and loneliness dumped onto them so a lot of relationships end up collapsing under their own weight.

[midnight-shadow-cafe]

imagining the 141 men letting you practice mock-exams on them while pursuing a medical degree, johnny would not be able to stay serious, simon would just sit there but not answer any of the questions, but i think john and kyle would be the perfect patients just happy to help you

Mock Exams

Pairing: Poly!141 x Reader

Warnings: Academic stress, light teasing, shirtless boys, affectionate banter, domestic intimacy, Soap being unhinged, comforting Price

Author’s Note: For every tired med student who’s ever begged their partner to let them check reflexes or palpate lymph nodes. The 141 are here for you—with varying degrees of helpfulness.

Summary: With OSCEs fast approaching, you need real humans to practice your mock exams on. Luckily, the 141 boys are more than willing to help—with varying degrees of seriousness.

Masterlist

MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+

The living room looked like a crime scene if the victim had died under a pile of flashcards and highlighters. Notes, textbooks, and anatomy diagrams were sprawled across the couch, floor, and coffee table. Your stethoscope dangled from your neck like a noose. You hadn’t seen sunlight in three days.

And somehow, you had four of the most elite military operatives in the world sitting in a semicircle around you, waiting to play pretend.

"You all promised you'd take this seriously," you said, attempting to muster some authority, despite the fact that your hair was frizzing out of your bun and your scrub top was definitely inside-out.

Johnny raised a hand. "Scout’s honor."

"You weren’t a Scout."

"Aye, but I knew a guy who sold their cookies."

You pinched the bridge of your nose. "Johnny, sit."

He leapt onto the armchair like it was a throne, peeling his shirt off with dramatic flair and slouching with his legs wide, covered in tattoos and smugness.

"Right then, Doc. Diagnose me with whatever makes you touch me the most."

You didn’t even look up. "Chief complaint?"

He grinned. "Burnin’ chest pain. Probably heartbreak. Can’t stop thinkin’ ‘bout you."

From the couch, Simon groaned audibly. "This is gonna be a long night."

You continued as if Johnny hadn’t spoken. You took his pulse—elevated, but that was probably because he kept laughing. When you asked him to breathe in and out, he dramatically puffed his cheeks.

When you tapped on his abdomen, he made exaggerated fart noises.

You stood up straight. "You’re impossible."

He shrugged. "But hot."

"Next."

Simon stood without a word, towering in front of you with his mask still on. He sat in the chair like a silent shadow, posture perfect, arms folded.

You cleared your throat. "Can you tell me what brings you in today?"

Silence.

"Simon?"

His eyes blinked once.

"...Are you gonna say anything?"

He slowly turned his head and gave you a look that said, you brought this on yourself.

Fine. You adjusted your stethoscope and started taking vitals. His heart rate was slow and steady. His breathing was controlled. He didn’t even flinch when you palpated lymph nodes or checked his reflexes.

"Can I at least get a fake cough?"

Nothing.

You sighed. "You're healthy, quiet, and emotionally repressed. Go sit down."

Kyle stood up next, hoodie already halfway off as he walked to you with an easy grin.

"Chest pain post-exercise. No radiation, non-pleuritic," he recited like a script.

You blinked. "Have you been reading my study guide?"

"Maybe." He winked and took the chair, posture relaxed. "What can I say? I like helping you out."

He was a perfect patient. He answered every question with textbook clarity, allowed you to guide his movements through the exam, and even asked you mock follow-ups like he was the examiner.

When you palpated his chest, he looked at you like you hung the moon.

"You’re really good at this," he said quietly. "I’d trust you to treat me for real."

Your fingers paused. You looked up, caught in the soft warmth in his eyes, and felt your chest tug.

"Thanks, Kyle."

He grinned. "Now go make Johnny redo his whole exam. That was a disaster."

Last up was John.

He’d been watching you the entire time from the couch, a book in his lap and a steady gaze on your every movement.

"You ready for me, love?"

You nodded. "Always."

He peeled off his Henley with the efficiency of a man who’d been through a hundred medicals before. His chest was broad, scarred, a map of stories he never spoke about. But his eyes never left yours.

"Any complaints?"

"Just a bit of tension. Probably from worrying about you burning yourself out."

You bit your lip, focusing on your stethoscope. As you pressed it to his chest, he inhaled deeply, his body calm beneath your touch.

"You’ve been up late every night this week," he said softly.

"That’s what med school is."

"You’ve got to give yourself a break, sweetheart."

You checked his reflexes. "I will. After this."

When the exam was done, he gently caught your hand. "You’re brilliant. You’re prepared. But even machines overheat. Let us take care of you for once."

The words caught in your throat.

And just like that, the tears came.

You didn’t sob. You just sagged, eyes stinging, lungs tight.

Kyle was already there with a blanket. Johnny set down your anatomy model and walked over, pulling you into a hug that smelled like his cologne and faint sweat. Simon didn’t say anything, but his hand was steady on your shoulder.

John pressed a kiss to your forehead. "We’re proud of you. No matter what."

You sniffled. "Thanks for being my patients."

Johnny smirked. "Anytime, Doc. But if you ask me to bend over for a rectal exam—"

"—you’ll do it and say thank you," Kyle interrupted.

You laughed. Actually laughed.

Four of the toughest men in the world, and here they were—holding your notes, playing sick, making fart jokes just to see you smile.

You’d make a damn good doctor. But you already had the best medicine.

Hope you enjoyed! Please consider liking and reposting! -Midnight💜

[kdh-tally]

Hello!! Love your posts about Kpop Demon Hunters and you made me release my full fangirling, you saved me from feeling empty tbh. Can I request Huntrix and Saja boys meeting their future children while Baby being the Godfather of the all the ships children. Abby x Mira x Romance had 3 kids, two boys and 1 girl, same thing as Mystery x Zoey but their boys are twins. While Jinu x Rumi have one girl and one boy. Thank you!!

Prompt : Huntr/x and the Saja Boys meet their kids from the future...

Author's Note : I really enjoyed writing this one!!! I made a whole chart with names and ages and personalities and everything. Hope you enjoyed!

The group was lounging in the practice room. Bobby, who was also temporarily managing the Saja Boys till they found a proper manager, had forced both groups to take a break. He was fully encouraging of their eagerness to perform, some more than others, but wanted them to relax.

Zoey and Romance were lounging on Derpy, the tiger, as they watched Mira and Baby play an oddly competitive game of uno, something Baby had gotten increasingly good at. Abby sat beside Mira, telling her what colours to place down and Mystery laid half-asleep on the couch. 

Rumi sat cuddled into Jinu’s chest as they watched some silly youtube compilation off his phone. All was peaceful, until Jinu tensed and shot up. Everyone now looked up to him.

“Something is wrong,” he muttered as he looked up to the ceiling. 

Baby raised an eyebrow. “You sure you’re not just being paranoid dude?”

Jinu didn’t even get the chance to answer before a rip opened in the ceilings. With unexplainable speed, the girls had summoned their weapons, eyes strictly focused on the mysterious–and possibly galactical–tear. The boys had also activated their powers, fingers sharp and eyes glowing as they waited.

Suddenly, a huge group of people dropped through the tear, it closed up right after. “What the-” Mira whispered as they surrounded the group of… kids?

The kids scrambled upright, shrieking and elbowing one another as they tried to get out of the pile.

“GET OFF MY FOOT!!”

“WHO TOUCHED MY HAIR?!”

“Did we just fall out of a portal?”

A girl who looked a little too much like Zoey blinked around the room, eyes wide, she quickly summoned two glassy but obviously durable metal hand held fans. The boy next to her, one of a pair of twins, suddenly pointed at Mystery. “Okay. Okay. That guy looks like dad but more emo.”

“You say that like it helps us understand the situation,” the other twin muttered, he was kinda hiding behind his older sister.

Everyone just stared. No one moved. Then the Mira-look alike stepped forward, arms crossed as her eyes assessed the room. “This is not the penthouse.” Her eyes narrowed at the group of adults in fighting stances. She summoned her own weapon, an iridescent coloured staff, in case a fight broke out.

“Tell us something we don’t know,” said the other pink haired child, summoning glassy red boxing gloves around his hands. A deadpanned look on his face.

Zoey finally blinked, breaking the silence. “Okay. Who dropped eight random children here and why can they make hunter weapons?” She glared specifically at the ‘retired’ demon boys.

“Don’t look at us,” Romance said, hands up before pointing right at Jinu. “He was the most powerful one out of us four.”

Baby stood up, retracting his claws and casually grabbing his juice box (it was a new chili flavour specifically made for him). “Quick question. Who here thinks they may have possibly created life in the future and now it’s come back to haunt them?”

Silence.

Another girl, one with short purple hair and an oversized hoodie, groaned in annoyance, “We were finally having a sleep over…” she pulled out the dual katanas that formed behind her back.

The boy next to Abby narrowed his eyes. “Wait. You look like one of my—” His voice trailed off as he pointed between Abby and Romance. “Oh my god. Wait. That’s them.” He pointed at Mira. “And her.”

“What do you mean, them?” the other pink haired boy asked, dropping his fists, the gloves dissipating into a bunch of familiar string waves as he moved closer to the look-alike. 

“Yea what do you mean us?” Romance echoed, voice pitching high. “OH WAIT YOU MEAN ALL THREE OF US-” he dropped to the ground, jaw dropped as it clicked.

The girl rolled her eyes, realizing there was no danger and releasing her staff back into the air. “Well yeah, obviously. You three argue like co-parents.”

Abby swore he was going to faint.

—

They tried to regroup. Tried.

Huntr/x and the Saja boys sat on one side of the practice room while the kids remained on the other. Derpy nuzzled closer to the group of small humans as happy as could be. He especially took a liking to the purple haired duo that sat on the floor.

The kids weren’t panicking, but they were wide-eyed and stressed. Everyone except the twins. One of them had already sat down next to Zoey without asking, playing with her glass blades (and comparing them with his) as she fussed over them in worry. The other had cornered Mystery (who was still half-asleep), simply staring at him in silence while his sister played with his hair happily.

“Okay,” Rumi said slowly, dragging a stool into the middle of the room like a teacher mid-breakdown. “Does anyone know what could have happened?”

“Last thing I remember,” the girl with Rumi’s eyes spoke, weapon still in hand as she was a bit untrusting, “Noa and I were in our parent’s penthouse. The kids were in the living room and I left to grab something from my room then everything kinda glitched and I fell on a bunch of legs.”

“Yep,” the Abby-looking boy said. “I thought Elio and Noa were just lagging out of reality. But now I think it was the universe.” He said as he sat beside his siblings. His twin must have been Elio and sister was Noa.

Romance raised his hand, only speaking when Rumi pointed at him. “So none of you time travelled on purpose?”

“No!” the kids chorused.

Jinu looked to Rumi. “Nothing changed with the Honmoon right? No crazy new magic?” She shook her head, confirming that nothing had changed. "So what's going on?"

“Someone did something stupid and didn’t tell me,” Baby groaned, pulling out a clipboard from who knows where. “Now, until we figure this out, we treat this like a quarantine. No touching anything magical or trying to fix it yourself. And for the hatred of Gwi-ma don’t trauma bond.”

“Too late,” muttered one of the twins, already curled up beside Mystery like a house cat. Mystery looked like he was actively trying to dissolve into the couch. He was going to have kids with ZOEY??.

Zoey touched her daughter's hair, just lightly, and her hands trembled as the teenage girl leaned into her touch. “This is real,” she whispered. “She’s gonna be real.”

“And so are the stress lines forming on your forehead,” Baby interrupted. Zoey didn’t even have the heart to insult him back. He strutted to the center of the room, pushing Rumi away and into Jinu’s arms.

“Children, all of you get in line and share your names. That will hopefully make this less confusing,” Baby mumbled as he tried to rub the ache out of his head.

The children, funny enough, quickly obeyed. The pink trio stood at the front of everyone. “I think it’s kind of obvious whose kids we are,” the younger of the two boys, Elio, said.

His sister nodded before pointing at each of them. “This is Kai, he’s 14,” to the Abby-lookalike, “this one’s Elio, he’s 11,” to the younger boy who looked exactly like Romance (the one with the boxing gloves), “and I’m Noa, their older sister and the oldest kid here.” She had her arms crossed over her chest as she stood protectively before all the kids. She obviously took Mira’s protective spirit.

"Only by 10 minutes" Zoey's daughter pouted from where she stood by her twin brothers. Romance looked as though he could cry, a wobbly smile on his face as he sat between Mira and Abby.

The next three, who basically had to be dragged away from their parents, stepped in front of her. “I’m Riven. 14.” One of the twins, the more affectionate but calm one introduced.

“Sora,” The girl beamed, clearly taking after her mom. “I’m 17 and the second oldest.”

“Vince. Also 14.” The silent one waved, hand gripping deadly onto his older twin-brother’s.

“That’s our mom,” Sora smiled as she pointed right at Zoey. "And that's our Dad," she pointed right at mystery who was still in shock.

The last two finally stood. The older one, a girl with short purple hair took in a nervous breath. “I’m Linae, Rumi and Jinu’s kid. And this is-”

“Asa!!!!!” the young toddler yelled loudly. The group winced, covering their ears as his magically powered voice rang through the room. That was Rumi and Jinu’s kid alright. 

“Yea, this is Asa. He’s 3,” Linae laughed softly before picking her baby brother up and placing him on her waist. “I’m 17, third oldest by like 20 minutes,” she nodded to both Sora and Noa.

“He takes after you,” Rumi said immediately to Jinu who looked offended. The group couldn’t help but stare at their apparent children from the future. All proof that they shared something deeper than just crushes. 

“Damn,” Baby laughed. He thought he got away, could be free to chill and travel on his own. Suddenly, all 8 kids turned to him, with Asa running up to cling onto his pants leg. 

“Uncle Baby,” the child cooed, signaling for the man to pick him up. Baby looked to Rumi, the child's mom, and she just shrugged. “I can’t believe this.” He mumbled before picking the child up.

“Okay!” Mira clapped her hands once, the sound echoing a little too loudly across the tension-filled practice room. “We’re gonna go have a private adult meeting. Don’t touch anything, don’t summon your weapons and don’t summon any more children.”

“Do we look like we can summon children?” Kai sassed.

“You don’t talk to your mom like that-” Abby scoffed as he eyed the small child.

“Are you and Kai gonna fight again Uncle Abby?…” Vince said flatly, already poking through Mystery’s phone without permission. He knew the password after watching his dad do it multiple times.

Zoey ripped it out of his hands. “Okay—NO.” She looked around at the rest of the kids, eyes remaining longer on her kids before sighing. “We’ll just be gone for a minute.”

Baby unwillingly handed the small child back to his sister. Rumi turned to Linae and Asa. “Watch your brother.”

“I always do mom,” Linae gave her a reassuring smile before immediately picking Asa up and sitting him on top of Derpy.

“We’ll be fine,” Noa said, arms crossed. “Go panic. It’s fine.”

And panic they did.

—

The hallway outside the practice room was dimly lit, lined with water bottles, yoga mats and benches. All eight members of Huntr/x and Saja Boys stood in a loose, silent circle. Well, all except Baby, who sat cross-legged on the floor like he was watching a comedy.

Nobody said anything.

Abby kept glancing at Mira. Romance was fidgeting with the drawstrings of his hoodie like they were a stress toy. Mystery, finally fully awake, was staring into an empty abyss. Zoey had her head in her hands. 

Jinu was blinking at the wall. He was going to have children. Two absolutely beautiful children with Rumi. And Rumi? Rumi looked calm, which made everyone else more nervous.

“Okay,” Baby said at last. “Who’s gonna be brave and say what we’re all thinking?”

“...This shouldn't be possible,” Zoey whispered, eyes wide and still. “I—I mean. We should’ve been busy. There’s been demon hunting, schedules, concerts. When did we even… do the thing?”

Romance coughed loudly. “Technically you don’t need that much time—”

Mira smacked him on the head.

“I think I’m having a stroke,” Abby muttered. “I have a mini me.”

"And he's just as stuck up," Romance snickered.

“Guys,” Jinu finally said, very slowly. “We have children. Named children.”

“One of mine had katanas,” Rumi smirked somewhat proudly.

“You mean one of ours,” Jinu corrected her, a light blush on his face.

Mystery finally spoke. “It was like looking into a three way mirror.” He thought of the twin boys and how they looked exactly like him, Vince copying his hairstyle as well. He thought of Sora, the energetic bundle of sunshine that almost rivaled Zoey’s excitement.

“I didn’t even know you wanted children,” Zoey mumbled before looking right at him. “Do you want kids?”

“Of course he does, you guys have three,” Baby deadpanned.

“Shut UP,” everyone shouted in unison. He took a sip of his juice box, smug.

Rumi leaned closer to Jinu, hands intertwining. “It’s not like it’s the worst thing. I mean, clearly we’re alive in the future. We’re together. We all did something right.”

“But how?” Zoey asked again. “When did we get together? I don’t even remember kissing him—”

Mystery choked.

Abby looked at her. “You kissed him???”

“I said I don’t remember—!”

“I didn’t even know I was part of a—whatever this is!” Romance shouted as he motioned between him and the other pinkettes. “I thought we were just flirtatious! I thought we were playing the long game!”

Mira crossed her arms. “If this is the long game, we lost. Badly.”

“I’m happy we lost. Have you seen our kids?” Abby scoffed.

Baby raised his hand. “In addition to Rumi’s point, you all got insanely attractive future kids with cool weapons and distinct personalities. Could’ve been worse.”

“They call you uncle,” Rumi reminded him.

“They should! I’m awesome,” Baby replied. “And I’m the only one not tweaking out right now. Just saying.” he shrugged. Everyone glared at him but Baby just smiled.

Then, silence again.

This time, it was Abby who broke it. “I think we all need to talk. Not just about those kids, but about…” He gestured vaguely in the air. “Us.”

“I’m not emotionally prepared for this conversation,” Zoey muttered, moving closer to Mystery. “I need snacks or a nap or a hug or maybe all three.”

“We’re clearly together in the future,” Jinu added carefully. “So maybe that means we stop pretending we don’t feel what we feel now.”

Mystery looked down. Romance looked away. Mira closed her eyes for a momeny too long.

Then, Baby stood up and dusted off his pants. “Well, as your emotionally well-adjusted godparent-slash-honorary single uncle, I say you should all grow up and kiss already.”

Everyone threw something at him.

—

Back inside the practice room, the kids were playing Uno. Again. Riven was winning. Elio was cheating.

Elio looked up from his cards. “Think they’re fighting in the hallway?”

“No,” Noa said confidently. “They’re just being dumb. Like usual.”

Linae nodded from where she sat on the couch, Asa snuggled on her chest as he slept. “Should we help?”

“Not until they figure it out,” Vince muttered. “They gotta suffer a little.”

Kai smirked. “Kinda like we did when we fell from a portal and none of them caught us?”

Sora giggled. “Exactly.”

Kai slapped down a +4. “Uno! I WIN”

[gumilac]

"have you seen them?"

TSUKISHIMA walks over to kuroo who was getting his fill of grilled mackerel in the food table—weird, kei thinks. who serves that? then remembers that kuroo hosted this gathering, hence the variety of food.

"sorry, who?" kuroo looks at him, who stopped midway in placing the fish on his plate. kei says your name and kuroo squints his eyes, looking at the crowd before setting his amber hues back at his junior.

"oh, i don't think i have," he pauses, "have you not seen them?"

"do you think i would be looking for them if i have?" kei deadpans, and kuroo scoffs. a soft laugh leaving him as he shakes his head. "you have not changed."

"tch," kei's shoulders slump a little and it does not go unoticed by kuroo, but decides to not push any further.

"but, to answer your question, i have not seen them."

a knowing smile sets itself on kuroo's face as he looks at a slightly dejected tsukishima, who's trying so hard not to show the fact that he's bummed you're not around.

"i'm sure they'll turn up," kuroo nudges kei with his elbow, giving him a smile, "i did invite them here."

he hums in acknowledgement, and kuroo pats his back before waking away. kei lingers at the table and scans the food kuroo has prepared. he notices a bowl of strawberries in the desserts area and decides to grab a piece. taking a bite, kei crosses one arm over his chest as the other rests on it while he eats the strawberries.

as he leans on the table, his eyes scan the crowd, looks at the door, waiting for you to come in. he's unaware to the looks he's getting for staring at the air, his brows knit in thought. poor party-goers skipping the strawberry bowl, supposedly for their cakes.

he's already gone through half the bowl of strawberries when suddenly, he finally sees your smile amongst the crowd.

his eyes widen and he chokes as throws the leaf on the table—messy, he knows. but, you're more important than that—standing up straight, kei brushes the wrinkles on his shirt and walks over to you. his mind races, heart beating quickly like hooves of horses running, and he's so pumped to finally see you after so long. it takes a few quick long strides to get to you, and he greets you breathless.

"hey..." he nervously runs a hand through his blond locks as he meets your eyes, "you made it."

"hi," you greet cheerfully and his heart aches—how adorable.

"how have you been?," he pauses and suddenly remembers your trip, "how was italy?"

clasping your hands together at the front, you bounce on your heels, feeling the excitement run through you as you recall the events of the past three weeks.

"it was great!" you quip, eyes gleaming, "the colosseum's huge and hmm..."

kei looks at you, focuses on you and notices how you've never changed. you still do your little habits that has his heart in a hold. he lets his guard down and lets you in, allows you to melt his stone-cold of a heart.

kei's old enough to.

"kageyama's still amazing as ever, and–" humming, you raise a finger, "oh, i just remembered! the museum in vatican city is amazing! we should go there sometime!"

"we should, shouldn't we?" he smiles at you, and you laugh. your giggles making his heart jump in loops like a little kid in a candy store.

"mhm hmm," you smile and he literally feels his knees weaken. but for having years of practice, he's gotten so good at swooning for you that you'd never really notice. not unless he lets you to.

"you'd love it there."

he nods his head, and listens to you continue with your stories.

aki's notes. someone who would find you in a crowded room >>> quick tsuki fic before i go back to work bc i missed him a lot

[penelopehere]

How Rumi’s Parents Met HCs

a/n: Ryu is the name of Rumi’s mum

I personally believe her parents met when Ryu was by herself, patrolling the city when she spotted a demon lurking in an alleyway

Naturally she went to investigate, attacking instantly when she got close enough

However the demon didn’t fight back, merely defending itself and then disappearing as soon as it could

At first she thought it was strange, but just brushed it off as she went back to patrolling

However, when she spotted the same demon a couple days later, the exact same thing happened

She attacked, and he disappeared in an instant

This simultaneously confused and annoyed her, with Ryu now going out of her way to find that specific demon

She told her team about the unusual situation, but was reassured that he was nothing the hunters couldn’t handle

Regardless, Ryu still went out to get answers

It was weeks until she managed to corner the demon, pinning him against the wall with her blade to his throat 

She asked why he was in the human world, growing more frustrated as he remained quiet for a few moments

He then said if she was going to kill him that she should just get it over with, which threw Ryu off long enough for him to slip away and disappear

From there a pattern would emerge, with the two of them frequently crossing paths when Ryu was patrolling alone

Unbeknownst to her, the demon was actually seeking her out, wanting to talk more

She’d basically interrogate him about his life as a demon, trying to find his intentions for not attacking her

However, from these questions she’d learn he wasn’t loyal to Gwi-Ma, trying to escape his voice

While Ryu was sceptical at first, the two of them grew closer, with her even answering the demons questions about her

That’s when she realised she genuinely cared about the demon

Not knowing how to handle these feelings, she instantly went out of her way to not see him

Eventually she began seeing him everywhere; in the crowd during concerts, in the corner of her eye when she was on patrol, sometimes even outside her house

However, he’d manage to get Ryu by herself, asking why she’d just leave him and that if she wanted to end things she should say it to his face

They’d definitely argue, saying that whatever they had shouldn’t even have happened since they were so different

The demon would eventually leave, promising not to find her again if she really felt that way

Months would pass, with Ryu missing him more and more

Even the other members would notice, but she’d just say she was stressed about maintaining the Honmoon

She’d try and find the demon again when she was on patrol, with no success

Eventually, when she was alone, she’d start talking to herself; asking him to come back

The moment those words left her mouth, he’d appear; neither of them talking when they locked eyes

From there the two would confess their feelings for one another, despite the two being a demon and hunter, allowing for their relationship to properly start

She wanted to tell Celine, but anytime she brought up the topic of demons, she saw the anger and resentment in her eyes

So instead they kept their relationship a secret, dating for years as Ryu made sure the other hunters never found him

At some point they would get married, merely exchanging rings as a symbol of their union rather than doing anything official

However, when she fell pregnant, she knew she would have to come clean

I believe this caused a falling out with the hunters, with Ryu disappearing since she knew they would never accept her new lifestyle

She continued to hunt demons for as long as she could, doing it from the shadows so her former group couldn’t find her

Her husband would help her during this, using his demon abilities to his advantage and fully taking over when Ryu became too pregnant though

When Rumi was finally born, neither one of her parents knew how to raise such a unique child

At first they were cautious, meticulously noting down her demon attributes and any behaviours they thought were abnormal

However, they very quickly grew not to care about her differences and focused on making sure she was happy

Rumi lived a rather sheltered life with her parents, staying home most of the time until around the age of three

At this point I believe Gwi-Ma heard of a rogue demon that was helping a hunter, sending all his underlings to capture them

Their family remained hidden for a while, however the demons managed to track down the area and they lived in

Not wanting to leave the humans of their city in danger, and knowing that no matter where they went Gwi-Ma would find them, they tried coming up with a plan to defeat him

However, Rumi’s father knew that this was practically impossible, and decided to face the overlord alone

He quietly said goodbye to his family, leaving them in the middle of the night

Ryu knew exactly why he had gone when she realised he was missing, not knowing how to go after him while also protecting Rumi

Eventually, she’d run into Celine who had heard about the concentrated number of demons in the area

Seeing Rumi with her demon markings, everything clicked into place and Celine was horrified

Instead of explaining herself, Ryu pleaded with her to understand that Rumi was still her daughter

This managed to convince Celine to take care of the child while Ryu went to go look for her husband

I believe they would only reunite at the final battle, with demons trying to drag her husband back to the demon world

In the process, civilians were being killed as well, Gwi-Ma managing to slowly make his way topside because of the influx of souls

Here Ryu would do her best to protect everyone while saving her husband, the two of them reuniting amidst all the chaos

This would catch Gwi-Ma’s attention, with him directing all his resources towards capturing the hunter and her demon husband

The pair would manoeuvre around the city, trying to draw the mob away from the public

In the end though, they knew what they had to do

Charging to Gwi-Ma, they lured all of the demons back into his flames in an attempt to push him back in the underworld

This worked, however, at the cost of Ryu and her husband’s life

Celine witnessed the carnage, unable to stop Ryu’s sacrifice since she was taking care of Rumi and trying to direct all the civilians to safety

Celine blamed Ryu’s demon husband on all this, vowing to never let another corrupt those she loved

Therefore, despite being half demon herself, she raised Rumi to hide and despise her demon side

[mangostarjam]

Sae getting jealous because you were talking with bunny during an after party event thing 👀

why is everyone out to get me.

"What's the big deal?" you scoff, crossing your arms over your chest. You still look pretty like this, ticked off and sparking, wildfire in your eyes. "The bunny mascot is cute."

Sae clenches his jaw. Watches the way your gaze darts to his face, to the jump of muscle that you catch so frequently. His tone is even. "It's ugly."

"It's a bunny," you say, as if this explains everything. Sae doesn't particularly care, doesn't really get why irritation is digging into his gut, why he wants to lift the hat from your head and throw it into a fire.

It's not right, he decides. It's not right to see that scarred bunny touching any part of you — just like it's not right that the man himself was talking to you, making you laugh at that stupid party.

If there's one thing Sae knows, it's that Bunny Iglesias can fuck off to hell.

"You know I wear your merch all the time, right?" you ask, reaching out to touch his arm. Sae sighs. Your tone is placating, and normally he'd let that wash over him, let you chase away the annoyance. "If you really don't like it, I'll sell it later. Actually, first I'll get him to sign it, so it's worth more."

That makes him snort. Of course you'd find a way to dig beneath his defenses and make him crack. "Don't talk to him. He's an asshole."

You laugh at that, your hand curling around his arm as you press closer into his side. "So are you."

Sae pretends he doesn't notice you feeling him up, stays blank faced as your hand squeezes his bicep appreciatively. You bat your lashes at him and he reaches up to flick the cap off your head.

It tumbles to the ground, but you don't seem to care. Your gaze has gone molten, that wildfire simmering into desire as you watch him. Your brow quirks. "So," you begin, and Sae tilts his head. "Were you watching me talk to him the entire time?"

You already know the answer to this. "Yes."

"And you saw him with me?"

Sae narrows his eyes. You're playing a dangerous game. "Don't ask stupid questions."

"He's pretty tall, you know?"

"…and?"

"And he's got those great big thighs," you say, grinning impishly. Sae stares at you, unimpressed. "I bet they're even bigger than yours, since he's so tall, too —"

You cut yourself off as Sae grabs your chin and pinches your cheeks, forcing your lips to pucker. He watches you for a moment, cataloguing all the ways your body reacts to his touch — and then he raises an eyebrow.

"Five."

"Five?"

"Maybe, if you're good, I'll give you a break. But you'll cum on my thighs five times tonight. I promise."

[magicalqueennightmare]

Being Outsmarted Headcanon

Tony had been in the lab half the night working on this problem. No matter how he readjusted everything he couldn't figure it out. Around two in the morning you came shuffling in, wrapped in a blanket. "Tony, come to bed" he nodded, without looking up "When I figure this out cupcake" you walked over to where he was and glanced down at his work. "Switch those two variables around" "That's not gonna.." he did as you asked and it worked. His eyes widened and he looked up at you "Holy hell. I love you" you grinned "Then come to bed" "Yes ma'am"

Steve had gotten asked about how his shield worked. It was a question from Peter but honestly Steve had never really thought about it. You however spit out the answer like it was the simplest thing. "What she said" he muttered to Peter, eyes never leaving you as a grin slipped onto his face. When you noticed his attention you blushed "What's that grin about sir?" he shook his head "Nothing. That was just pretty damn attractive"

Clint fell more in love than he already was when your voice popped into his ear mid mission. "Adjust your aim by a eighth of an inch" he started to argue, tell you he knew what he was doing but something in your voice. He did what you told him and took out four targets in tandem. When the mission was over he caught you and wrapped both arms around you "Have I mentioned you're really gorgeous when you're smarter than me?" "So always?" you teased.

Sam doesn't really get thrown off when you say something genius by now but that doesn't stop him from getting a little love struck. "Damn baby. Smart and beautiful" (especially when you're proving him right in an argument with Bucky or Joaquin.... not so much when you're proving Sarah right in an argument)

Joaquin was monitoring satellite footage when you came walking in. "Why don't you do it like?" you hit a few key strokes and he had an easier view and it set up so if a target came into range an alert would ring out. He raised an eyebrow and pulled you into his lap, "I love you" you of course laughed because your boyfriend was always somewhere between a puppy and a pitbull. "I love you too baby"

Bucky gets absolutely star struck. He adores you (worships you really) you'll be talking about something and just drop little tidbits on something or correct a path or plan and it will be dead on and he stops everything for a few seconds to stare at you like "Is she really mine?" you'll keep talking and just reach for his hand to pull him closer. He'll end up actually whispering into your ear "Are you sure you're real sweetheart?"

John was helping Bucky to plan a mission. You were with them, standing in front of John because lets face it if you were behind him you wouldn't see the plans. You tapped on the screen pointing out the best entrance and extraction routes before either of them could spot them. He slipped an arm around your wiast and whispered "Now honey, that's got to be the sexiest thing I've ever seen"

[mswyrr]

really enjoying the journey here. this was a transitional episode, so aside from the delight of it confirming some things i'd speculated about (Arada takes Pin-Lee for granted and Ratthi is there as a spur to growth out of that immature dynamic; Gurathin is head-over-heels in love with Mensah and trying to be chivalric about it), it raised more questions than it answered -- because episode 9 and 10 will be the pay-off for a lot of what this was setting up.

-somehow i've managed to actually avoid spoilers about (a) whether or not Murderbot did, in fact, kill those 57 miners and (b) if so, under what conditions -- i'm fascinated to watch whatever they're doing there unfold

-it might take into next season to fully explore such a fraught thing that Murderbot itself doesn't really remember or seem to understand though? and certainly its humans are struggling and might be struggling for a while with this... LOVED the way Noma played this moment

i like that she can have a moment of weakness -- i like that she's a complex human being and not the endlessly giving, perfect Mom to everyone parts of fandom want to her to be

personally, I think she's beating up on herself (and being UNFAIR to herself) for exposing her people to danger and letting her deep feeling of connection with Murderbot make her want to defend and include it -- but also, like, that was the *right* thing to do as well. And unfortunately there's no easy fix for their situation; there's no one thing she could have done to protect her people besides listen to Gurathin and not come on the mission at all. The circumstances aren't ones where, if she hadn't felt and cultivated that connection to Murderbot, the team would be safer.... actually, they'd probably dead already or with worse chances of survival!

And she hasn't ever treated it as a "pet" -- but, again, i think she's stressed beyond her endurance and brokenhearted at what she just saw and learned and really beating herself up in this moment. I don't think she's yelling at Ratthi primarily -- I think she's yelling at herself (and being really unfair to both -- because Ratthi hasn't treated Murderbot like a "pet" either!! He's a bit oblivious, but he's just a bit immature and really sweet but overly enthusiastic and oblivious with other people overall, human or bot! It's a character trait we see throughout his relationships)

-i think there's going to be a "twist" in the Sanctuary Moon plot.... John Cho is coming back, I can feel it! and i think that will coincide with things improving between Murderbot and the team, which.... the significance of its own life meaning enough to it emotionally that it can't focus on comfort tv because that's its "new show"? that's such a combo of "ow" and "aw"!

extremely seated with my popcorn and beverage for the next two episodes!

[superhoeva]

Letting your husband Frank know that you are particularly sore after a night of baby trying on a busy day in the OB ward

it’s actually dana that notices you grimacing as you head back to the ward after consulting on a case in the er. she watches you for a total of ten seconds before turning to find langdon. when she does, she walks over and gives him look that crackles with thunder and lightning.

frank’s smile at some joke he’s halfway forcing donny to listen to drops instantly. already knowing that—whatever this is for—he’s toast.

“are you stupid?”

“dana, what—”

“actually, ya know what,” she throws her hands up in the air with a laugh that makes him feel a little worse. “i’m sorry, i shouldn’t ask questions i already know the answer to!”

“i-i,” frank tries just as donny slinks away, wanting no part. he backs away with his hands raised in surrender and scared eyes.

“shut up, and listen t’me, hun: i know you’re excited and that your wife’s a cutie, but you better give that girl a break so help me god, or i’ll wring your neck, do you hear me? poor thing’s yawning and limping like you haven’t let her sleep in two weeks.”

blinking, frank gulps and reddens with a flush shame.

that same night, instead of tugging you to the bed after dinner, he’s draws you a bath. helps you inside the tub and soaps your skin well, pecking your skin with feather-light lips.

“you’d tell me if it’s too much, right? us? tryin’ for a kid…”

taking a warm, wet hand, you tilt his head until he’s looking at you. his eyes are the most uncertain you’ve ever seen them.

“yes, i would. was actually gonna ask you for a break tonight but you read my mind before i could bring it up.”

thinking, frank bits at the skin of his lip. embarrassed more than anything.

“you’ll keep telling me right? when you need a break or wanna cool it for a bit? or we could make some kinda schedule—well, you make a schedule and just tell me when and where. seriously, babe. the last thing i wanna do if tire you out, or god forbid, hurt you in some way. i’d never forgive myself if—”

you shut him up with a gentle grab of his chin.

“in all this time of knowing me, do you really think i wouldn’t tell you if you were really hurting me? last night was just a lot, which i fucking loved by the way. just needed a break tonight… that’s all, frankie. i promise…”

frank eyes you, and is pretty quiet for the rest of the night. holding you but still in his head, thinking about what dana said to him; and promising to lighten it up, no matter what you tell him.

© 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐡𝐨𝐞𝐯𝐚

[kurizz]

Pink Poly Club (miromabby) Part 3

click for part 2

Summary: They successfully dashed out of the studio. But it started raining heavily outside, making it unsafe to drive. Mira, not wanting to let them know where she lives, ended up at their place instead. She needed to relax after being stressed out by that interview.

Word count: 1127

a/n: gotta clarify that it's an alternate universe where the saja boys are regular humans.

-----

Maybe she should’ve just checked into a hotel. But after that stunt they pulled earlier, that would've been a terrible idea. Without Bobby or the rest of the company staff around, people would gather and ask questions. Too many questions.

Mira sank into their couch with a weary sigh, tossing her feet up on the small table. “Don’t get any funny ideas,” she muttered. “I just needed to relax, so I took the offer.”

“Hot cocoa? Something to drink?” Romance lazily called from the kitchen, clinking around in the cabinets. “Abs, turn up the heater. It's freezing in here.”

“On it,” Abby replied, already moving.

He was right—it was getting cold.

Mira stared out through the tall windows, the curtains were pushed to the side. It displayed how the rain lashed the glass in harsh, steady bursts. Bobby was probably still pacing, worried sick about where she’d gone after ducking out of the studio earlier than scheduled. She had told him the truth. Not that it helped. It only added to his worries. 

The girls would surely want in on everything. She’d tell them when they meet. For now, her phone was shut. She needed to relax.

“Once the rain stops, I’m heading home.”

Romance hummed. She hadn’t even answered his question.

“Feet down, please,” he called out, holding two mugs of hot cocoa.

She dropped her feet on the floor quickly.

He set one mug in front of her. “Here. Have a drink.”

“I didn’t say I wanted one.”

He slowly raised a brow, “I’ll drink it then. You sure you don’t want it?”

“I…I’ll have it,” she grumbled, grabbing the mug from the table.

The couch creaked as Abby plopped down beside her, leaning in towards the mug in her hands. “Careful, it’s hot. Let me help.”

He wrapped his hands over hers and guided the cup closer to his mouth, trying to blow away the steam.

Mira recoiled, eyes wide. “Stop! You’re getting your saliva all over it!”

Abby paused, stunned. Romance slapped a hand over his mouth, his shoulders shaking with laughter. Mira was fuming, she wanted to pull the mug away from Abby but she was careful not to spill it.

Abby let go and slumped back, turning his head away like a kicked puppy. Was he sulking now?

Romance drew in a deep breath, trying to keep it together. That earned him a glare from Abby, “You’re really enjoying this.”

Romance grinned. “Don’t be mad just because I’m her favorite.”

Abby turned his glare on Mira.

She returned it right back. “I don’t like either of you. I could’ve blown on it myself.”

“I was trying to be nice.”

“By spitting on my drink?”

Abby’s ears turned red, his glare was more of a pout than a threat. Why did that make him kind of…cute?

“Forget it.”

“I can't drink this anymore,” Mira grumbled, setting the mug down. She leaned her back onto the couch and rubbed her cold hands together. Abby got up and walked away. What, is he more upset now?

“Have mine instead. I haven't taken a sip yet.” Romance offered, sitting beside her.

“…thanks, if you don't mind.”

She took one sip and welcomed the warmth that entered her system. The cocoa tasted so good. But she wouldn't say that out loud. It helped rid her of the cold a bit. She needed the warmth from the drink that badly.

Romance and Mira drank hot cocoa in complete silence. The sound of harsh rain was filling up the room for them. She glanced at him sideways, wondering how long he’d stay quiet. Oddly, it felt comforting.

Then, there were loud footsteps. She paid it no mind and focused on her drink, knowing it was just Abby coming back to the living room. His steps grew closer. A warm blanket was draped over her shoulders, the fresh lavender scent engulfed her senses. She was pleasantly surprised. So, that’s what he was up to.

Abby also tossed one blanket to Romance. He was wrapped in one himself, a small frown still evident on his lips. He said nothing and only sat on her other side—the one unoccupied by Romance—in silence.

Mira sighed, giving in. “Thanks,” she whispered softly.

Abby pretended not to look pleased, “No problem.”

He wrapped the blanket around himself tighter. Romance was still sipping on his cup.

There it was again. That stretch of silence surrounding them. If it weren't for the rain, she would've assumed that her hearing was gone.

Normally, they were chatty. Teasing her left and right, trying to get a reaction out of her. She wasn't sure if she preferred this side over their playful side. This definitely was new. She hummed in thought, setting down her mug once she finished drinking.

“I didn't get to say thank you earlier.” she paused, waiting for them to respond. Once they didn't, she kept going. “You must've known I was uncomfortable so you took me out of there.”

“Not sure what you mean.” Romance pretended to be fascinated by his mug, he wouldn't even look at her.

“Don't start thinking we did it for you.” Abby murmured, “…because we did.”

This time, it was her turn not to respond. They did it first, anyway.

Out of nowhere, Abby rested his forehead on her shoulder. “Just a few minutes…I won't do anything else.”

His voice was low and soft. It had a mild pleading tone to it that sent a delicious shiver down her spine. He was way too close, the heat from his body threatened to consume her. She couldn't help but fix her posture—it only made Abby scoot closer.

Romance sighed, grabbing her attention. He nuzzled his head on the other side of her shoulder, “I can't help it anymore. Give me a few minutes too, Mira.”

“What are you guys…”

She didn't know what to do. That awful fuzziness she felt in her chest was clearly trouble. She doesn't need it, go away. Why is she giving in…clearly it must be the weather. It's messing up with her way of thinking.

She plopped her head back, her gaze softening as it met the ceiling. She wouldn't admit it, but this felt nice. Being wrapped in a blanket and almost cuddled up amidst the heavy rain outside made her slightly woozy, her eyelids getting heavy.

She closed her eyes, but reminded herself not to sleep. She's just going to rest for a bit. Just for a bit. It’s fine.

Minutes went by.

Abby noticed the rain had subsided, so he pointed it out.

Weirdly enough, Mira hadn't had the urge to get up and leave anymore, but she had to go. She had to go before they let the moment carry them away.

-----

a/n: still getting a hang of this thing. btw, my fingers were itching not to italicize almost everything. also, golden is just so good of a song but so hard to sing—my voice cracked like rumi in their practice. probably the only thing we have in common.

author's note? no. author's ramble.

@suzieq1948374 @unmooredandfulloftrepidation

[dzvelinaskebiyars]

"Have you ever thought how easy it would be for us to end the other one and never get caught?"

I'm ngl, I should do something about procrastinating (◞ ‸ ◟ㆀ) anyways, tagging: @shintaru @ravenwritten @sylith @bfwooin @zyart-jpg @i-nssomniia @kuchisabishiiiii

HYUK:

Honestly, at first Hyuk thought he heard you wrong. He's half-asleep on your chest, while you were gently playing with his hair, brushing it with your fingers or curling his dark folds around your digits.

And then you suddenly asked....that.

"Have you ever thought how easy it would be for us to end the other one and never get caught?"

Your question caught him off guard, especially your sweet tone and whisper, like you were asking if today's date. Hyuk lifted his head from your chest, his chin resting on your skin.

"To be entirely honest..." His voice trailed off, as if he was unsure whether it would be alright to admit it or not.

His hesitation made your chest beat faster. You were joking, of course. You asked that as a joke. It was totally just an intrusive thought- but with Hyuk...He was joking too, right?

He opened his mouth to speak again. "I've thought about what I would do if you were to die."

You blinked at him, his confession coloring you surprised. "Really? And what would you do?"

Hyuk stared at you for a moment, his eyes locked on yours. His mind shrifted to the old thoughts he had kept locked in his heart. It was unpleasant thought. No, it was more than just unpleasant.

The amount of effort he put in just to make you fall for him, just so you could get interested by him — whether it's the amount of times he freed his schedule just to see you, when he took you to playgrounds and proudly showed off his stunts, randomly asking to hang out with you, casually showing up in front of your house, memorizing your schedules, maybe he's bit guilty of obsessively having all his attention on you too.

It's weird to others maybe, but to him, it was normal. It was his calling to make you his, to understand you throughoutly and it was also his calling to don't lose you.

Hyuk usually didn't care about death as any normal person would. Maybe because he grew up in environment where death wasn't taken as seriously as it should have been, maybe because that thought didn't occupy his mind often. But maybe, just maybe, that wasn't case with people he was permanently fixated on.

Deep beneath that heart, he held a special place for people that he loves, in his own ways, and Hyuk isn't the type to just...get used to them not being here.

So what he would do if you died?

The thought is terrifying enough as it is for him, but confronting that question to give an answer was harder than he had thought it would be. "I wouldn't date again" he mumbled, loud enough for you to catch his words but quiet enough for the intimate moment. "I would still text you and send you videos of my stunts."

You let out small "aww", it was rare to see Hyuk being this open but i guess that's how he usually is half-asleep — clingy and open.

"But baby..." You awkwardly called him. "That wasn't the question....I still appreciate your answer though."

After hearing that, Hyuk furrowed his eyebrows in confusion and adjusted his position. "Then what was the question?"

"Have you ever thought how easy it would be for us to end the other one and never get caught?" You repeated for him.

He immediately flopped his head back on your chest, replying with "Nah" but then he slowly looked at you, raising his eyebrow slightly. "Have you?"

"Well..." You glanced away, rubbing your neck in awkwardness, purposely ignoring Hyul's soft gasp. "As a joke, kinda...That was when you scooped me as your backpack on your bike and pedalled like we had nine lives. At that time? I kinda wished to kill you but jokingly!"

Hyuk scoffs, closing his eyes. "Oh wow..." Honestly, he isn't surprised. You did almost bruised him from how hard you were holding him back then.

You continued to caress his hair gently, humming to yourself. In the midst of random prank question you heard from tiktok, you got such intimate moment for yourself and your boyfriend admitting he'd stay loyal to you even after death. What else could have possibly made you happier?

Wooin:

On a beautiful starry night, where moon blesses the streets with its silver light, when people are taking walk outside, kids playing football on playgrounds—screaming and laughing together, couples going on dates despite the time of the day, enjoying the warmth of the night....

You're stuck in your home with your sadistic, son of a bitch boyfriend, who decided making you watch horror movie with him was the best plan for indoor date.

That's how you ended up snuggled up to him, wrapped in the blanket like a burrito, your eyes wide in pure horror, fear nestled in your very bones. Wooin? He had smug grin on his lips, arm wrapped around you—pulling you in his embrace, his eyes switching from glancing at you to watching the movie, that didn't even scare him even a bit.

Honestly, he knows he's sick for enjoying the moment you're so terrified at but the way you're holding onto him like he's the safest space for you right now, the way you're cuddling with him, the way you're jumping at jumpscares and cussing out the ghost who, apparently, made you believe in existence of god as you were repeatedly begging deities to spare your heart from whatever the hell he picked—all of this was so amusing to him.

His eyes darted to the TV again, watching the way a main character killed his own wife in the fear of her being a witch and get away with it. Oh, that guy was nutjob, definitely. But then what could Wooin be called after asking you stupidly terrifying question at the worst (right) time possible?

"This made me think how easy it is to kill your own lover and get away with it. Have you ever thought of it?"

Your eyes immediately shoot up to look at him like he grew three separate heads, giving him most offensive side-eye he could ever get from human being, then turned your head to face him. "If you don't stop purposely trying to get me scared, I will kill you."

"Oohh." Wooin grinned. "Is that a threat? From you?"

"Very much so." You answered and turned your head back to the TV.

He hummed to himself, his thumb brushing your thigh. "But I could—"

"Say one more word and I'll suffocate you like this guy did in the movie."

"....." He opened his mouth again. "You know what? I don't dislike that idea."

And that's how he ended up sleeping on the couch instead of bed with you, since you claimed he was going to bring bad luck to you now–after all the nonsense he sprouted from his mouth.

JOKER:

Training with him was always amazing way to spend time, since both of you are quite athletic. But as always, his training schedule was too exhausting for you—as someone who wasn't interested in boxing nor weightlifting.

So watching him train after taking a break? Now we're talking. Usually, you'd be too distracted by his muscles, his biceps, the way his abs glistened with sweat but now? Your thoughts were occupied by certain question that intruded your brain.

So being too comfortable with him, you didn't mind asking it. "Hajun."

At the mention of his name, he glanced st you mid lifting, humming in response.

"Have you ever thought about how easy it would be for us to end the other one and never get caught?"

That's it. You did it. And almost made him drop the bar on himself.

His eyes meet yours, processing the question you just asked. Then he went back to lifting his weight while answering you with question. "Is that one of your intrusive thought too?"

Chuckle gets past your lips, barely audible. This poor man had to deal with lot of weird questions from you, huh? "No, this thought might be wanted."

He stops once again, side eyeing you before sighing in pure agony. "This is why I didn't want you to meet Hyuk. You got affected by his homicidal impulses."

"What impulses?!" You burst out laughing, leaning forward out of habit.

Opposite from you, he was NOT amused. Probably because of the recent race he had where Hyuk messed up everything by trying to have fun. Hajun, without a hesitation, repeated. "Homicidal."

He scoffed at your careless reaction, not seeing where he's coming from. "What?"

"Nothing, it's just..." You got yourself together, your laughter dying down. "I wasn't expecting you to insult Hyuk like that."

"It's not insults. It's facts. And you're getting influenced too." He explained, completely putting down the weight on the floor. "So, please don't act on your homicidal impulses. I actually have plans for our future."

[seoulmatez]

𝓌𝒾𝓅𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝓉𝑒𝒶𝓇𝓈

rin (re)learns that words can hurt.

itoshi rin x reader ﾉ sfw ﾉ hurt/comfort ﾉ reader cries :c ﾉ unspoken feelings

It’s much later than Rin would normally be out, especially when he has practice the next morning, but there’s something—no, someone—that lured him out of his apartment. You.

He’s at the playground now, the one you two frequent on nights when you don’t want to be holed up inside or when you insist on enjoying your snacks from the convenience store somewhere close. You aren’t kicking your feet on the swing or sitting on that dumb rocking horse you love for some reason unbeknownst to him. There’s only one other place you could be and Rin's feet carry him there almost unconsciously.

He stands at the bottom of the slide that you always make sure to go down before the end of your outings. Rin knocks on the outside of the slide twice before speaking. “You up there?”

A long silence follows his question and for a while, the only noises he hears are the song of cicadas and the indistinct conversations of passersby. Rin briefly considers climbing up to the top of the structure to see for himself but before he can give it any more thought, your voice echoes down the tunnel. “How’d you find me?”

The easy, truthful answer is that he had checked your apartment first to no avail and the only other spot you’d run to is here. It really didn’t take much thought on his part. Though, he can’t find the courage to tell you that so he settles on another answer that’s just as rational.

“You didn’t turn your location off,” Rin says, loud enough for you to hear. There’s another pause on your end but the longer he waits, the more apparent it becomes that you don’t have anything to say. It’s rare that Rin does but he happens to have something important to tell you tonight. “Can you come down here?”

Something akin to a scoff sounds from the top of the slide. “Why? So you can yell at me some more?”

“I didn’t—” He didn’t yell, he wants to tell you, but he presses his lips together before it gets out. The image of your face before you left his apartment flashes in his mind. There’s hurt painted on your features, the kind rin isn’t used to causing. He didn’t raise his voice but he supposes that telling you to leave him alone could have come across as harsh. He sighs, running lithe fingers through his hair only for the strands to fall back over his forehead. “I’m not going to yell. Just come down.”

Rin hears what he thinks is your shoes banging against the plastic of the slide before the sound of squeaks grows nearer. A couple seconds later, you arrive at the bottom. Instead of getting out, you cross your legs and arms, meeting Rin's gaze with a teary one of your own.

Streaks of wetness trail down your cheeks and for some reason, the sight makes rin’s chest feel tight. He’s seen you cry before but he’s never been the source of your tears. A frown tugs at his lips knowing that his bluntly-spoken words had such an effect on you. He thought he had meant them at the time but it certainly wasn’t his intention to make you cry.

The expectant look in your eyes urges Rin to speak the words he’d been messily rehearsing in his head as he jogged here. He crouches down to your level before starting. “Look, I didn’t mean to be so short with you earlier. I was exhausted and in a shitty mood and took it out on you. You didn’t do anything wrong. I’m sorry.”

You listen to each of his words intently, never breaking your stare and only blinking when he finishes. A fresh set of tears trickles from the corners of your eyes but before they can drip off your jaw, Rin gently wipes the stream away with the soft sleeves of his sweater. If his words hadn’t convinced you, the gesture does. You sniffle and muster up a weak smile. “I forgive you.”

You can visibly see the tension melt from Rin’s shoulders and faintly hear him breathe out a breath he was holding. Rin stands to his full height effortlessly, holding a hand out for you to take. Uncrossing your arms and scooting to the edge of the slide, you reach out to accept his hand. He helps you up but, to your surprise, he doesn’t let go of your hand. His thumb runs along your knuckles before he tugs you in a silent gesture to follow him.

You do, but it only takes a few seconds for you to realize that he isn’t walking in the direction of either of your apartments. You turn to him, curiosity creasing your brow. “Where are we going?”

“Convenience store,” Rin answers, though he keeps his eyes ahead. Vulnerability isn’t something that comes easily to Rin and he thinks he’s been plenty tonight.

You hum. “What for?”

“Whatever you want. It’s on me.”

You smile at that because, as nonchalant as he says it, you can feel the weight behind his words. He’s offered as much more times than you can count in the past but this time, it’s different. You can’t say whether it’s because he’d shown you a different side of him or if it has more to do with the fact that he still hasn’t let go of your hand, but this visit to your regular spot isn’t like the others.

As much as you’d like to figure out what this means for your relationship with Rin, getting a straight answer out of him tonight seems unlikely. Besides, you’re content enjoying the moment as it is. You squeeze his hand which is enough to draw his gaze to yours. “Thank you, Rin.”

There’s a sparkle in your eyes that catches Rin off guard, makes his lips slightly part in surprise. He hadn’t gone into tonight thinking he would have to confront so many unspoken feelings but it’s growing more and more difficult to ignore all the signs. Though, Rin thinks that this much can be discussed tomorrow. So, he simply nods. “Yeah, you’re welcome.”

sua here ( ≧ᗜ≦) thanks for reading! if u enjoyed, reblogs are greatly appreciated!

[centrally-unplanned]

Someone on Twitter referred to a possible mayor mamdani as "the most powerful person in the United States who knows who sephiroth is" which raises the question: mayor of New York vs vice president, equal or lesser in power?

"It depends" is alas the answer, as the VP is a very soft power, relationship-dependent role. Sometimes they are incredibly powerful - Cheney is very famous in that regard, being the strategy formulator for a sweeping foreign policy agenda, and Bush gave him a lot of substantiative authority. Meanwhile, you have people like Kamala who were generally backbenched and given supporting or PR-style roles that don't really translate into anything real. (An incredible misstep from an ~80 year old president, but I digress) I bet there have been mayors of NYC that have been more powerful than the vice president.

In our current circumstances, Vance is both weak and strong. Trump is an authoritarian wielding a cult of personality, explicitly demanding salivating deference in all things when he really wants it. If Vance missteps, or things "in his remit" go badly in whatever way, Trump might simply ostracize him and revoke the entirety of his ability to do anything. There is something about power that is only held via a loan from another that makes it no true power at all.

But that is abstract, and right now Vance is clearly in a position of favor, and his star is only rising. Now that Musk has been dumped, now that Hegseth has embarrassed himself time and again, now that TACO on tarriffs is the name of the game and people like Oren Cass are no longer as useful, Vance is really the one person to get out of this entire thing unscathed. He clearly is involved in every substantial decision the Trump administration makes, and has clear authority to shape the often-mushy "orders from the top" as he sees fit. And he holds the stamp of being the "intellectual" leader of the Trump administration, a form of soft power that is his own. Right now I think Vance is the second most powerful person in the United States - the future NYC mayor isn't going to hold a candle to it.

And this power is obviously only going to increase once he deposes Trump in a plot to immanentize the eschaton and you beat his current form and think it is over only for him to reveal a new, more terrible second for-

[overbaked-tkls]

Hello, I hope you're having a good day.

If possible, could we have Lee!Taph and Ler! Builderman? I find Taph's admiration for him kinda cute ^^

If you don't want to or can't do this, that's fine. I appreciate you taking the time to read it.

sorry for the posting gap! had to do finals and i wasn't feeing well for a bit. anyways 🔥

also sorry this is a bit shorter, still getting back into the rhythm of things

(this is a sfw tickle fic! if you don't like it don't read it)

"At least look at me, would’ja?"

words: 1,806

ler!builderman, lee!taph

summary: taph thinks he can back out of a social interaction. facepalms

--

Frequent little waves, glances in between rounds. Bulderman either quietly returned them or smiled in response, but only for a while. At first, he thought Taph needed his help with something, but every time he fully took his attention off his typical intermission tasks to approach the demolitionist, Taph would back away or quickly turn. Then it switched, halfway through the day. The architect became too busy to bother returning any gestures, and when Taph approached him, he’d get dismissively shooed off.

Once the hard-hatted support finally found the time– which ended up being sometime after the rounds were over and he finished helping Shedletsky with something– he met the other support upstairs.

“Ay, Taph. What’s goin’ on today, huh? You need somethin’?”

Taph looked to each side of Builder, shaking his head after a moment.

“Well, you been wavin’ at me.”

The demolitionist hesitantly raised his hands. ‘Just saying hi.’ To be fair, it was a half-truth. Taph didn’t exactly know why, but even the smallest interaction with the other sparked admiration from him. He wished Builder would approach him more, maybe pay more attention to him. But it really didn't help Taph that just being in the other's presence made him nervous, a lot more than he’d like to admit. Hence, he’d initiate interactions only to quickly regret them and retreat.

“Just sayin’ hi…” Builderman echoed, skeptically. “And yer’ sure you don’t need anythin’?” In addition, he gave a friendly, yet questioning smile. It wasn’t that he thought Taph was lying to him, but the demolitionist was always so quiet about his problems, so it came naturally to ask twice or thrice. While waiting for an answer, Builderman moved his head under the lighting to try and see Taph’s face under the shade of his hood.

‘Completely sure.’ He signed the confirmation with a definitive energy in his hands, but it came from a rushed, nervous panic underneath. It was also a little shaky, so… Not super believable. 

“... uh huh.”

Taph looked down, and his dark face wings shyly folded over to hide anything not already covered by his mask and hood. It was one thing to feel guilty about misleading someone; it was another to be caught for it.

Builderman raised his eyebrows at the sight, before scoffing. “Oh come on, at least look at me, would’ja? You’ve clearly been wantin’ to talk. I really don’ mind, y’know.” It was especially annoying for him when his admins and others would use their wings in this manner. He’d gone over the same rule with any winged person working for him– they’re not hiding spots, weapons, or tools used to escape scolding. Well, the last one was more for that damned avian swordfighter friend of his, but nonetheless. The point still stands, and if anything Taph had just turned more away, signing closer and closer to his chest.

Taph believed Builder was very considerate to him, but sometimes the trapper couldn���t decide between struggling to express his gratitude or questioning if he was just being delusional. 

‘I’m fine.’

The architect’s frown turned into a flat expression as his lips pressed together. “Great to hear, but it would seem more believable if you weren’t hidin’ from me.” He reached out, trying to gently pry one of Taph’s wings away from his face. 

Originally the demolitionist planned on letting him, but the second he saw Builder’s eyes again, the hard-hatted support’s force on the feathered appendage wasn’t enough to stop the demolitionist from stubbornly keeping it there.

A long, disappointed exhale escaped the sentry-maker. “... Taph. Help me out ere’.” Builderman waited for the amount of time it took to take his hat off, tidy the grey hair on his head, and put the hat back on for the other to listen.

Maybe, Taph thought, if he just waited long enough, Builder would leave. But the trapper hadn’t spent long enough periods of time with him to know how incredibly tenacious he was when he actually wanted something. So safe to say, Taph was pretty startled when he felt a few fingers brush across the backside of one wing.

Despite almost instantly flinching his head away, the action persistently continued as Builder gently held his now twitching wing in place. He wasn’t exactly used to having other people touch them, not that he disliked it– but it was for the same reason he didn’t let anyone preen his wings that he was attempting to move away from the architect at the moment. They were… Sensitive.

The hard-hatted support was barely feeling across them, honestly closer to petting than anything else. But it was with just enough quickness and unpredictability to hopefully coax Taph into flinching the black feathery veils to his face open.  “Y’know, I’ve always let’cha get away with these things. Both metaphorically and literally. But I do haf’ta admit it's a little irritatin’ to pause my work for you, just to get ditched and ignored.” Not that I believe you do it on purpose.

A tentative smile crept up Taph's face, but even then he couldn't understand the nature of this. Friendly? Scolding? Both? And how was he supposed to deal with it? Unintentionally ignoring the complaint in favor of temporarily escaping whatever this was, Taph messily signed back. 

Builder assumed the message to be ‘What are you doing?’, but the demolitionist’s hand seized up halfway through pointing at him, and Taph's arms looked to him like how frantic slurring sounds. He ended up only smiling in response, chuckling as each trace over the soft bend of one jet black wing earned its own startled twitch. 

Creating the demolitionists was something he found himself regretting more often than not, but the sight of them was something honorable. A symbol of creativity just as much as destruction. It was an art, and he couldn't pretend he wasn't interested when Taph would ramble about bombs and explosions, his excitement on the topic louder than the motion of his hands. Parts had to come from somewhere, after all.

In any case, it was a silly rhetorical question– Maybe Taph meant ‘why’ instead. “Well, why dont'cha take a guess, Taph? After all, I am givin’ ya my undivided attention at the moment. You should gimme yers’. Y'know, by at least lookin’ at me.”

Taph shakily raised his hands up from his front, clearly having half the mind to get Builderman off of him. But the other support in question pushed his hands back down before the thought could go full swing. 

The action seemed strangely less like restraining, and more like a reassurance.

“Taph. Please.” The architect gave an unamused, amused look, even though who he directed it at was still too stubborn to see it. The same way he looked at anyone that was endearing enough to be annoying, for the lack of a better description. Stretching two fingers from the end of one wing to as far as he could reach to the base, he considered what would ‘convince’ the demolitionist. 

The inner feathers are the worst, right? 

“Ah. Taph, if I may…” Builder reached just a little bit into the other's hood, and let it rest there for a beat. Despite the pause given, Taph went completely unmoving.

And then the architect decided to re-familiarize himself with what preened scapular feathers feel like by running a couple curled fingers though the small area. Soft. Well, that's what it felt like to him. If Shedletsky writhing away from him whenever he preened there had taught him anything, that definitely tickled for Taph.

As evidence, the demolitionist nearly hurt himself jolting his head back into the log wall he was leaning on a couple minutes prior. Builder suddenly felt grateful for having a preventive mindset, since he had habitually put his free hand behind Taph's head in advance.

“Oh, now wer’ talkin’.” He meant it both literally and as the idiom, but Builderman could only assume the other was signing to him somewhere within the arm flailing. Even in normal circumstances, Taph could be unintelligible with his hand signals; his already jumbled attempts at communicating had just started becoming even less comprehensive. The only thing he could recognize was ‘wait’ and his sign name.

And then he got what he was waiting for; Taph's wings flexed and shuddered away from his face at the touch. It was like opening like a dark curtain, except it let in no light– the demolitionist's expression was still mostly hidden by the shadow of the hood. But at least Builder could glimpse his face, occasionally catching the white of the other's eyes when they opened. He paused the motion on the inner feathers, just for a moment.

“There ya’ are. So, now that wer’ here, tell me . . .” 

He said something after that, but Taph was too busy looking in shock. He didn't realize Builder could have an expression like that, especially towards him. The way something more personal was painted on his face, deeper than the typical friendliness that came with teamwork, or after fulfilling a survivor's request during a round. 

But that thought was cut short, the same unpredictable, giddy feeling spreading throughout the entire structure of one wing and slightly down his neck.

Builder ran his thumb over the front of his wing instead of the back. It was no wonder Taph prefered to preen the things himself, they were deathly sensitive. “Yer’ really finding every possible way to avoid talkin’ to me, huh?”

Taph vigorously shook his head, half because ‘no’ was his answer, and half because just shifting his wings wasn't cutting it.

“Okay, okay.” With a laugh, the grey support removed his hands. If Taph was just going to shake him off, that was it. He wasn't about to hold him in place if it could accidentally hurt him.

The demolitionist’s wings almost folded over again by habit, but they stopped as he just opted to put his face in his hands.

“Y'know, your wings are…” Builderman grinned, choosing to rephrase. “It's a shame you don’t let people touch em’ too often, they’re real soft.” Of course, it wasn’t really. Nothing touching the feathery appendages was probably the reason they looked and felt so well cared for, anyway. “Don’t uh… don’t tell Shed, but.” Chuckling in between sentences, he subtly reached out again and undid any disorder he had caused to the feathers on Taph’s wings. “I’ve never seen his even half as nice, if m’ bein’ honest.”

‘Won’t tell him’

“Ah, too kind of ya.” Builder brought his hands back to himself as he watched the demolitionist’s sign language become less frantic. “Say, did’ja actually need something from me?” 

Taph hesitated before responding. He should have just said it earlier, but he didn't regret not doing so. 

‘I actually was just saying hi’

It didn't surprise the other support. “... Just shy, then?”

Taph turned his head off to the side. Although Builderman couldn't see it, he knew the demolitionist was smiling.

[whytheylosttheirminds]

june gloom part 2: is this gonna end ever? - r.c.

rafe cameron x pogue!reader

note: originially posted on my old blog in September! there are only two parts and will be no happy endings so only read if you're prepared for true angst!!

cw: hurt no comfort, smut, 18+ minors do not interact!

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂

Crickets chirped a chorus around you as you laid back on the flannel blanket, the grass beneath making a soft pillow for your head. Your lips wrapped around the blunt, lungs expanding to welcome the smoke. You hummed in pleasure as the high-end strain went down way smoother than any of the trash you would usually get on The Cut.

“God, this is good shit,” you said with a lazy smile.

“Only the best for you,” Rafe smirked, leaning over on the blanket to pull the joint from your lips so he could join in your revelry.

He took a long drag and let it go in a smoke ring that rose above you and disappeared into the starry sky. You tried and failed to stifle your laugh.

“What’s funny?” He asked, eyes glazed over with his high.

“Nothing,” you chuckled. “Just…what frat house did you learn that in?”

“Shut up,” he teased back, making you laugh harder.

“No, I’m sure the sorority girls found that very sexy,” you continued.

“They did actually, thank you,” he joked. “You would’ve too.”

“Yeah right, I’d make a great Phi Beta Whateverthefuck,” you huffed sarcastically.

“Did you go to college?” He asked.

You’d known Rafe for about three months, spending nearly every night together since you first met at that club. You had talked about just about everything under the sun except yourselves, you were caught off-guard by this excavation into your history.

“Um, no,” you answered, taking the blunt back from him.

“Why not?”

You shrugged, taking another hit, “didn’t wanna.”

“Do you regret it?” He continued.

You sat up and pulled your knees to your chest, looking down at him with a frown.

“What?” He questioned.

“Why the sudden interest?” You said, harsher and less playful than you’d intended to.

Rafe sat up next to you, pulling his knees towards himself to mirror you. His eyes were intense on your face as he mumbled, “you don’t want me to get to know you?”

Truthfully, you wanted that and so much more, but you couldn’t tell him that. You knew this was just a way for him to pass the time until he could get you in bed again, and maybe you were okay with that. You decided you’d entertain the line of questioning, just this once, not knowing then that this was just the first of many deep, meaningful conversations you’d share with him.

You took a deep breath and said, “what do you want to know?”

He looked up at the stars as he considered the answer to that question. You took the opportunity to admire the way the moonlight reflected off of the sharp angle of his jaw.

He decided on “what’s your biggest dream?”

You bit your lip and looked down at your bare feet, digging them into the blanket, not used to this kind of conversation and yet feeling curiously comfortable opening up to him.

“I want to go to India,” you answered honestly. “I read a book when I was a kid about a little girl who grew up in India and I’ve wanted to go ever since.”

Rafe nodded in approval, “that’s a good one. You should go.”

“Yeah, as soon as I win the lottery, it’ll be my first stop,” you joked bitterly.

“Or I could just take you,” he shrugged.

You smiled at him, incredulous. 

“What?” He asked, genuinely unsure of the meaning behind the look you were giving him. You realized he might actually be serious, even though you knew it would never really happen.

“Nothing. That’s sweet,” you smiled. “But I want to get there on my own. I wanna earn it.”

“I can respect that,” he conceded. 

“Anytime you wanna lend me that private jet, though, just hit me up,” you teased.

Rafe chuckled, eyebrows raised, “oh I see…you’re using me.”

“I thought that was obvious,” you smiled coyly. 

“Uh-huh,” Rafe said, playfully shoving your shoulders so you fell back onto the blanket. 

You giggled as he climbed over you, caging you in between his arms as he held himself up, looking down at you, tucked perfectly beneath him.

“I think I’m okay with that.”

He leaned down and kissed you, his tongue sweeping over your bottom lip tenderly, lowering himself down until you were chest to chest…

“Are you listening to me?”

Your friend waved her hand in front of your face, trying to get your attention.

“Sorry, what?” You were pulled from your thoughts.

“I said they want us there at four this friday,” she showed you an email on her phone.

“Oh,” you blinked, coming back to the moment. “Where is it?”

“Some mansion on Figure 8. It’s a wedding, but they're doing like a whole weekend thing, so it’s Friday through Sunday. Last time I worked one of these I made over five hundred.”

When she first told you about the catering gig this weekend, you turned her down. You’d been carefully avoiding the north part of the island for the last six months, and a whole weekend would be a high-risk endeavor. However, you didn’t have to check your bank account to know you were near broke, and Figure 8 was where the real money was made. You agreed and ironed your white button down and black slacks, your go-to outfit for catering gigs.

As you pulled up to the address your friend had sent you, you cursed under your breath. The estate was huge, the old house immaculately kept and towering proudly under a crystal blue sky. You turned down the radio as your beat up car sputtered its way up the long, grand drive.

“We’re definitely not on the south side anymore,” you joked to yourself. 

You pulled around back to the service entrance as directed by your friend’s text and tracked her down in the crowd of other blue collar workers. Everyone was moving quickly, arranging the massive party space according to the wishes of some unseen bride and groom. 

You were put to work right away, polishing silverware and arranging it as instructed by the very specific, color-coded diagram you had been given. Tonight was only the rehearsal dinner, and there were two-hundred names on the guestlist. You chatted with your friend as you did various other chores, speculating about who could possibly be the owner of this massive property.

“Maybe it’s a crime lord,” your friend joked. “Like some mafia type shit.”

“Maybe it’s a celebrity,” you guessed. 

You didn’t have to wonder for long. 

“Hey! A little help here!” A delivery driver called to you as he struggled to lift something large and rectangular out of his truck, the mystery item protected with a large, black sheet.

You ran over to give him a hand, and he directed you to a big easel he had set out, “picture of the happy couple,” he explained. You called your friend over, informing her you were about to have all your questions answered.

Once you had set the canvas down, you asked the delivery driver if you could remove the sheet. “I don’t give a fuck, my job’s done,” he said, hopping back in his truck and driving off. You and your friend giggled as you did a little countdown and drumroll routine. You pulled the sheet away and her mouth fell open

“Of fucking course,” she immediately took out her phone to take a picture.

You stepped back to look at the giant, blown up portrait. Every muscle in your body tensed and the blood drained from your face, you grabbed the back of a nearby chair for support. 

There on the oversized canvas, smiling that perfect, crooked, arrogant, beautiful smile, was Rafe Cameron.

He had his arm around the woman you recognized to be the one he’d left you for, calling off your whirlwind love affair in pursuit of something more optically appealing to his family. He’d found it; they were gorgeous together.

Six months had passed since you’d last seen him. The first few months were the hardest you’d ever faced. At first, you went out almost every night, needing to stay shitfaced to keep your mind from wandering to him or your fingers from dialing his number. Eventually, you had to delete him from your phone, not trusting yourself in those late night moments when you missed him so much you thought you might die. No amount of booze or weed could make you forget the feeling of his hands on your body, the sound of his voice, the look in his eyes when he fucked you that last time. Your friends started getting worried. You blacked out so often, you couldn’t keep a job. After three or four months of your reckless behavior, they called a sort of intervention and convinced you to calm down. 

You decided if you were going to be alone, you’d make yourself good company. 

You stopped drinking, and even gave up cigarettes. It took several false starts, but the patch got you through it. You picked up good habits, too, starting your mornings with yoga and meditation. You were planning to go back to school, tired of career-hopping through dead-end minimum wage jobs. You stopped eating take out so much, started grocery shopping and saving every spare cent you had for a travel fund. You even cut and dyed your hair, finding freedom in the ability to change whenever you wanted, in the fluidity of answering to no one but yourself. You were still untamed, but for the first time in your life, you felt a semblance of control. You decided you’d build a beautiful life even if you had to scratch and claw your way to it. And you’d do it all by yourself.

Slowly, and with the most effort you’d given anything ever, you were finally starting to get over Rafe Cameron.

Or so you thought. Now, standing in his backyard, decorating for his wedding, you felt like you were right back where you were that night in June, lying naked on your bed while he walked out of your life forever.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” A high-pitched, angry voice startled you, pulling your eyes away from the picture.

You whipped your head around to see her, even more stunning than she was in pictures, her wide Disney-princess eyes shooting daggers at you. Your first and most irrational thought was that she somehow knew who you were. The delusion of that concept was quickly made apparent.

“The picture was supposed to stay covered until tonight,” she barked at you and your friend, who looked at you with wide-eyed panic. “Aren’t you the fucking caterers? Why are you even out here?”

“S-sorry,” you stammered out, your mind reeling as it tried to connect to your reality. You picked up the sheet off the ground. “We’ll cover it back up.”

“No, don’t touch it! Where’s your manager?” She demanded, her hands on her hips. “They need to know about this. What are your names?”

Your friend looked at you with wide eyes, you knew she needed this job even more desperately than you did. Plus, she’d stuck her neck out to get you hired and now she’d lose the money and her credibility.

“It was me,” you blurted out. “Not her. Don’t worry, you don’t need to get anyone fired, I’ll just leave.”

It wasn’t a big sacrifice, considering you were already thinking if you stayed another minute you might have a full blown panic attack. At least if you threw yourself under the bus and got fired, your friend would have no reason to question why you ran from the property crying.

“Fine, whatever,” she dismissed your act of loyalty with a wave of her manicured hand while your friend looked at you with grateful eyes. “What’s your name then?”

“Don’t worry about it,” you handed her the sheet, which she snatched from your hands irritably. “I’ll just go.”

You tried to keep your composure as you walked back toward the house, praying you’d remember your way back to your car. Your heart was pounding, your anxiety and shock threatening to bubble over, you could feel tears springing up and your hands shaking.

You rounded one of the many corners of the massive house, finally out of her line of vision, and broke into a sprint. You passed through another courtyard, where more preparations were underway. There were far too many eyes on you. If you remembered correctly, there was only one more turn before the part of the property you were parked on.

Dirt crunching under your feet, you slid around the corner and straight into something hard and large. You let out a sharp “ouch” as your face burned with the force of the collision. To your horror, you realized you’d run into a person. You kept your eyes low, looking at the man’s feet as you held a hand over your face, wondering for a moment if you’d broken your nose. Then, a familiar scent flooded your senses, and you felt a large hand rest on your shoulder. 

“Woah, I’m sorry, are you okay?” Rafe’s voice asked, clearly unaware of who he was talking to, you looked so different than you did six months ago.

You raised your wide eyes to look at him, hand still cradling your throbbing nose. You took him in through rapidly blinking lashes, begging yourself not to cry. His face shifted slowly from concern for a stranger to recognition of someone all too familiar.

He pulled his hand from you in shock, his mouth opening and closing and opening again, trying to form words that just weren’t coming. You knew you needed to get out of there before they did.

“I’m fine,” you said firmly, hoping he understood you were talking about more than just your injured face.

You sidestepped him and kept running, leaving him standing wide eyed and ashen faced as he watched you get into your car and peel away from his home, and away from him. 

₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ *˚˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ *˚˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ *˚˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ *

The key rattled against the lock, your hands shaking as you tried to get into your apartment. When you finally got the door opened, you peeled off your clothes quickly, as if they were covered in something radioactive. You pulled on a tank and some sleep shorts, fully ready to get in bed and stay there for days. Everything in you was unraveling. The sight and sound of him undoing the steel backbone you had built for yourself. You climbed under the covers, curled into a ball, and sobbed.

You cried so hard, it knocked you out. Without trying to, your body fell into a hazy, uneasy kind of sleep, haunted by images of Rafe. When you woke, blinking confusedly at the fuzzy outline of the time on your alarm clock, it was dark outside. The clock read 11:03pm. You pulled yourself from your bed with a groan, craving something to comfort you in your post-meltdown emptiness.

As you stood at the sink, filling the kettle for some tea, your mind replayed the events of the day. He’s getting married tomorrow. The rehearsal dinner that you helped set up for was probably over by now. You pictured him saying goodnight to her with a kiss, hanging his tux for the morning, making sure he had the rings ready. You already knew you’d lost him, but the permanence of tomorrow’s events felt like a boot on the neck of the small part of you that still wondered what if.

Your phone rang out loudly on the kitchen table, making you jump, so startled you almost dropped the tea kettle, the water now overflowing. You set the kettle down on the stove and turned on the burner before looking at your phone screen, which read “unknown number.” You hit decline and let it go to voicemail. After a minute, you poured your tea and sat at the table, watching as your phone lit up again with notification of a new voicemail. You unlocked it and pressed play.

You knew the voice immediately, though it was coming out slurred and strained. You clutched the phone to your ear with both hands to hear better.

“Heyyyy baby. It’s me. I’m sorry for calling so many times, blowin’ up your phone and you’re probably out somewhere, looking fuckin’ gorgeous like always. Shit there’s probably guys lined up to take you home. Do you remember when we met? Fuck you looked so hot. I thought if you said no to going home with me I might literally die. But you said yes! You said yes and you took me home and we, fuck…god…it was so good, you’re so good. Not just the sex. I mean, yes your pussy is so perfect, but…shit it’s raining…but you were- you are…jesus Rafe get it together. I can’t remember what I was saying. I’m so drunk, I- ouch, fuck!- I miss you, baby. It's cold out here but I don’t care, I couldn’t be there anymore. I couldn’t listen to them talk about this fucking wedding. Fucking flowers and table settings and shit I don’t care about any of that…just, please…baby…I need-”

Your phone beeped loudly, the voicemail cut off for length. You replayed it, twice. Outside your kitchen window, you could see the rain getting heavy. The low was in the 30s tonight, and it was supposed to keep raining for hours. You couldn’t hear much in the background behind Rafe’s drunken rambling, but you could tell he was outside. You pictured him stumbling into a ditch somewhere. He had hurt himself on the voicemail, did he fall? You couldn’t stand the thought of him alone, out in the cold rain, hurt.

Despite every instinct, you pulled up the number he called from and texted him.

Today 11:14pm

Where are you?

Today 11:16pm

‘Unknown’ shared their location with you.

You grabbed your coat and keys and ran out the door before you had time to second guess yourself. You found him lying on the beach, his clothes soaked through from the rain that was still falling heavily. He’d clearly thrown up, just a few feet from where he was laying now. You ran to his side and quickly checked that he was breathing.

“Jesus, Rafe,” you recoiled at the overwhelming aroma of booze radiating off of him.

His eyes flew open at the sound of your voice. 

“Baby?” he groaned.

“We gotta get out of here, Rafe,” you struggled to help him up.

With an enormous amount of effort, you got him into your car. He leaned his head against the cold window as you drove, his breath fogging up the glass with each exhale. You looked over at him every few seconds to make sure he was still conscious. 

Once in your apartment, stumbling through the door with his arm over your shoulder, you led him into the bathroom, guiding him to sit on the edge of the tub while you ran the shower, water heating slowly.

You tapped his arms. 

“Up,” you instructed. He lifted his arms obediently and looked up at you through half-lidded eyes as you peeled off his wet polo, doing everything you could to avoid staring at his bare torso.

“Think you can do the rest yourself?” You motioned to his lower half.

“No,” he said with a smirk.

“Rafe,” you warned, not playing around.

“I can do the rest myself,” he said with his hands up in defense. 

You left him in the bathroom fumbling with his belt. While he showered, you brewed a pot of coffee and poured two steaming mugs, sitting uneasily at the table when he finally emerged from the bathroom. He was in only his boxers and you blushed aggressively, as if you hadn’t seen him naked a hundred times before. He caught the redness in your cheeks as you looked down at your hands, swallowing hard.

“Sorry,” he said earnestly. “My clothes are still wet.”

You pushed back your chair and walked to your bedroom, returning with folded clothes in your hands. He looked suspiciously at the men’s t-shirt and basketball shorts you gave him, cocking his eyebrow at you. You just glared back at him, tilting your head slightly as if to say I dare you to give me shit about where I got them. He didn’t push it, pulling them on wordlessly.

“Coffee?” You offered once he was dressed.

“Please,” he slumped into the chair across from you, sipping the coffee with a sigh.

“Feeling better?” You asked.

“Much better, thanks,” he said. “Never mix rum and redbull.”

You snorted, “I could’ve told you that.”

“Well you weren’t there were you?” The sentence started playfully but ended with a bite.

You sipped your coffee, wondering who would be first to acknowledge the elephant in the room. You sat in silence for a few minutes, both drinking your coffee and letting the air grow thick between you.

Finally, he caved and spoke first, “why’d you leave?”

“Why would I stay?” You responded, voice dripping with spite.

“I- I guess I don’t know.” Now it was Rafe avoiding your eyes.

“Does she know…about me?” You asked timidly.

“No,” he mumbled, before sipping up the last drop of his coffee.

“And where does she think you are right now?” 

“My bachelor party.”

“We should get you back there, then.” You stood and collected both mugs, bringing them to the sink.

Rafe scoffed, “you’re kicking me out again?”

“I never kicked you out, Rafe. You left,” you said, clutching the edge of the sink, bracing for an argument.

But he didn’t argue, he just let the silence settle between you for a long moment before finally saying, “I wish I hadn’t. I miss you.”

You turned, expecting to find him still slumped over the table, but he had stood and was now startlingly close. You jolted, squaring your shoulders in defense as he got closer to you.

“Don’t say that,” you pleaded. “I can’t do this with you.”

“Then why’d you come get me?” He asked, his eyelids low as he looked down at you. “Why’d you bring me here?

“Why’d you call me?” You asked back.

“I asked you first,” he said, no playful smile to match his childish words.

“Why does it matter?” You sighed.

“‘Cause it does, it matters to me, please just give me a reason,” his voice grew more desperate as he stepped even closer to you, his looming body caging you against the sink. He searched your face as he waited for you to respond, needing an answer you couldn’t give him.

“Are you gonna marry her?” Your words tightened the tension already growing between you, causing Rafe to close his eyes in frustration.

“I don’t want to talk about her,” he shook his head. 

Rafe lifted his hand slowly, placing it on your waist. He squeezed gently at the soft skin of your side. You leaned into his touch for just a second before coming to your senses.

“Are you? Going to marry her?” You repeated stubbornly.

“Yes,” He said, eyes falling from your face to his hand on your side.

“Then you shouldn’t be touching me,” you grabbed Rafe’s hand and lowered it from you. “I won’t be a mistress. I won’t be that dirty pogue who fucks a married guy, I wanna be something better than that.” 

You slipped out from between him and the sink, pacing to the other side of the room, but his body turned aggressively to follow you.

“You are. You’re so much better,” his voice cracked with urgency as he rushed to reassure you.

You shook your head in anger, raising your voice as you snapped, “then why are you marrying someone else?”

“Because I have to!” He matched your heated tone, as if he was the one to have something to be mad about.

“We’re going in circles, Rafe! We are in the exact same spot we were six months ago! Except I’m a different person now. It changed me, losing you. I got better, I got healthy, I got sober. I got over you!” You were yelling now, searching for the words to make him understand that he wasn’t the only one who had something to lose.

“Well I didn’t get over you,” he stated simply.

“No, you got engaged,” you pointed out.

“Fuck that, fuck her, you know I don’t love her!” He scoffed. “You saw her today, you know she’s a bitch.”

“That’s really nice, Rafe, you should put that in your vows,” you huffed sarcastically.

“Oh c’mon, she doesn’t love me either,” he rolled his eyes. “She still fucks around, everyone knows it.”

He said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world, but it took you by surprise. You searched his face for a sign as to whether it was true or just something he made up to make you sympathize with him. The way his eyes fell to the ground and the apples of his cheeks blushed slightly told you it was true, she cheated on him, and he was ashamed of it. It made you sick, the thought of someone having him so close and caring so little. The only thing worse than the thought of her treating him like that was the thought of him accepting it as if it was what he deserved. You should’ve felt sad for him, but it just made you angrier.

“Then why, Rafe? Why?” You knew you were becoming a broken record but you just could not wrap your head around his choice. “Why are you still with her?” You hated the way it made you sound like you were blaming him for her actions, but you needed to understand.

“Because I’m going to have to end up with someone like her anyway, I may as well just get it over with,” he said with a resigned shake of his head.

“That’s fucked up, Rafe,” you said, even though you knew he already knew it.

“It is what it is,” he shrugged, defeated.

Your eyes caught the clock on your stove. It was almost 1am. Rafe was supposed to be saying his vows in twelve hours, and you knew if he stood here in your apartment for another minute, looking at you so helplessly, you’d crumble for him.

“I think you should go home,” you said, trying and failing to mean it.

“Not yet,” Rafe said, his tone implying there was something more he was waiting for.

And even though you wanted to, you just couldn’t give it to him. 

Mustering the last of your pride, you took a deep breath and said, “If you’re waiting for me to ask you not to marry her, we’re both gonna be disappointed. I’ve been doing good, Rafe. I got my life together, and I won’t be responsible for ruining someone else’s. It’s not on me, you have to decide. If you don’t want to marry her, then don’t marry her. But do it for you, because I’ve got me covered.”

Rafe considered your words, standing completely still as they washed over him. He had to choose. He could either ruin his reputation and potentially lose his family to be happy with you or keep the lifestyle he’d grown so accustomed to and be miserable with her. He looked so sad, and you desperately wanted to ask him what he was thinking, but you stayed silent, wanting him to say what he was feeling all on his own for once. You needed a simple answer.

But Rafe Cameron never did anything the simple way.

He didn’t say anything,  he just started walking toward you. Once he was close enough to touch you, and your back was against the wall, he reached up to touch your face gently with one finger, silently asking if you were still in pain from your collision earlier. When you didn’t wince or push him away, he leaned down, bringing his lips dangerously close to yours.

“Just one more time, please. Don’t kick me out, be with me one more time,” he whispered against your skin.

You shook your head slowly, whispering back, “I won’t kick you out, but I also won’t let you touch me and then marry her.”

“Fine, I won’t touch you.” 

Rafe leaned back, only slightly, pulling his face away so you were level with his chest. He folded his hands behind his back to show you he meant it. You could smell his familiar musk, his chest so close to your face you could hear his heartbeat as you looked up at the pulsing veins in his neck. His hair, still wet from the shower, flopped messily over his forehead. A single drop fell from his bangs and landed on your collarbone. Rafe’s eyes darkened as he tracked the droplet rolling across your exposed skin, down your chest, over the curve of your tits and finally disappearing into your tank top.

Eyes locked to Rafe’s, you lifted your hand slowly, placing it over the spot the water had fallen, sliding your fingers delicately down the drop’s path. When you reached the neckline of your tank top, Rafe’s eyes consuming every movement, you reached up with your other hand and lowered one of the straps of your top slowly. You dragged your hand down further, cupping your breast through your lacy bralette and biting your lip at the pressure.

Rafe’s jaw clenched. He put one hand on the wall next to your head to steady himself, bringing his body impossibly closer while still not touching you. His other hand fell to his side, moving dangerously close to his dick.

“You better not touch yourself either, or I swear to god I’ll stop,” you warned him.

“Don’t stop,” He brought the drifting hand up to the wall on the other side of your head. “Please, baby.”

Butterflies erupted in your stomach at his voice, raspy and strained with need. With two hands on the hem of your shirt, you pulled it slowly over your head, leaving you in just the see-through undergarment. 

“Take that off too,” Rafe tried to sound dominant, but his voice cracked, betraying him.

“You’re not in any position to make demands,” you scolded with a shake of your head. “And you’re not going to see me naked. You have a fianceé for that.”

Rafe was pained by this, his nostrils flailing as he clenched his jaw in frustration. You ignored him and put your hands back on your body, palming both of your tits again before trailing lower over your stomach. Rafe’s tongue darted out of his mouth and licked his lips as he watched the way your stomach flexed with anticipation, hands finally landing on the waistband of your sleep shorts. One hand pulled the elastic back while the other slid beneath it slowly. When your fingers ran over the fabric of your panties, teasing your clothed clit, your head fell back against the wall and your jaw fell slack. Rafe ran one of his hands through his hair as he watched pleasure flood your face, desperate to touch something, anything. The hand still on the wall closed into a fist. You started rubbing circles over your clit through your panties, the fabric already soaked through, wet since the sight of him in his boxers. Your breath hitched when you found the perfect rhythm and you closed your eyes tight, a melodic moan rising from your throat.

“Fuck baby, you’re so fucking sexy,” Rafe growled through gritted teeth.

Your eyes flew open and you pulled your hand from your shorts, suddenly very aware of the lack of space between you and the vulgarity of what you were doing. You slid under his arm and hurried to the other side of the kitchen.

“You should go,” you whispered, wrapping your arms around yourself and shivering at the sudden loss of his warmth.

Rafe stayed still, trying not to spook you. His head dipped low, looking down at his ringing hands.

“I missed you,” he mumbled helplessly.

“You mean you missed fucking me?” You asked spitefully.

One agonizingly slow step at a time, Rafe crossed the room. You turned from him as if to push him away, literally giving him the cold shoulder. But he wasn’t deterred, he just got closer and closer until he was right behind you, close enough for his breath to sweep across your shoulder as he said, “yeah, what if I do? I miss it so much. There’s not a day that passes without me wishing I was here, fucking you so good you scream my name.”

His arrogant words made you so fucking angry, and so fucking wet.

What little resistance you had mustered disappeared. Breathless, you whispered, “what else do you miss?”

“I miss your little moans,” he continued, the corner of his lips raising slightly at the sight of the goosebumps that shot up your arms. “I bet you still cry out for me when you make yourself come, don’t you? I want you to show me.”

“We can’t do this,” you shook your head.

“No, I can’t do this,” he corrected you. “You can do whatever you want.”

No fight left, you took his suggestion, and soon you were laying back on your bed, your shorts thrown on the floor, your hand moving feverishly under your panties. Rafe laid next to you, his body drawn in as close as it could possibly get while keeping his promise not to touch you. You’d made no such promise, the hand you weren’t rubbing over your slick folds gripping his arm for purchase as you moaned at your own touch.

“Talk to me,” you begged.

“Yeah?” He said excitedly, as if he had been waiting for permission. 

You nodded desperately, bringing your eyes to his as one of your fingers dropped down to enter yourself.

“You remember the first time we fucked?” He began. “Right here on this bed. I took you from behind. You were so tight around my cock, like you were fucking made for me.”

You added a second finger, driven by his filthy words. His jaw clenched, restraining himself with more effort than he’d ever given anything as he watched you writhe.

“Keep going,” you whined, eyes squeezed shut.

“I had to turn you around, I had to see that pretty face when you came for me for the first time,” he recalled. “God, I bet you wish it was me stretching you out right now, don’t you? You wish it was my cock pounding you into the mattress until you can’t breathe, huh?”

“Mhm,” you nodded, lips pouting, overwhelmed by the memories and your need to feel him.

“Best pussy I’ve ever had,” he groaned, feeling himself twitching in his pants, desperate for his own release but committed to yours. “I need to see you come, baby, one more time. Please come for me?”

You cried out as you clenched around your own fingers, their size so inadequate with him so close, knowing what he could be doing to you. But you meant what you said, you couldn’t let him touch you, not while his bride was sleeping just across town, no idea her groom was in some pogue’s bed, begging her to come for him. Maybe it was sick, but the thought of him being so desperate for you that he was risking everything with her made your thighs clench around your hand, nearing the edge.

“Tell me about the first time you saw me,” you pleaded, the rasp in your voice warning him you were close. 

“Holy shit, baby, you were so fucking sexy,” he said, rising up from the bed and propping himself on his arm to hover over you, the proximity throwing you into even more of a frenzy. “Dancing in that club, the way you move, shit, I wanted to lay you down on that dancefloor and fuck you right there. So did every other guy in there. But they didn’t get to, I did. And I’ve never been the same since I first touched you.”

It was all too much, his words, the memory, the sensation of your fingers sliding in and out so easily, the way he was talking making you so wet. Your high crashed into you like a truck, your back arching off the bed, your chest bumping into his as you came with his name on your lips.

“There she is, that’s my girl,” Rafe exhaled as you rode out your high. Eventually, your muscles gave out from the pleasure and you slumped back into the bed.

He watched you in rapture as your chest rose and fell with labored breaths, struggling to recover. Neither of you knew what to do next, the shock of what just happened washing over you. Your body was so exhausted from the chaos of the day and the aftershocks of your orgasm, all you wanted was him, and you were too tired to fight it.

“Rafe?” You whispered into the darkness of your bedroom, the light of the moon the only thing illuminating the small space.

“Yeah?” He whispered back.

“Can you hold me?” Your voice sounded so small, and you hated the vulnerability of your request, but at this moment the only thing you wanted in the world was to feel his arms around you.

“I thought you didn’t want me to touch you?” He teased gently.

“I said I’m getting better, not that I’m perfect,” you smiled, turning your body towards him. “And I want to know what it feels like to fall asleep in your arms. Just once.”

“Is it gonna be an issue?” He asked. You knew what he really meant was, “are you going to regret sleeping with an engaged man?”

The answer was yes, but you didn’t care.

“Just let me be a little selfish,” you said, turning around so your back was against his chest, pulling his arm around you. “I had you first.”

“You still have me,” he whispered against your neck, pulling your body into his.

“Shhh,” you said, lifting your fingers gently to his lips. “Go to sleep, Rafe.”

He smiled and did as he was told.

₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ *˚˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ *˚˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ *˚˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ *

The sunlight landing on your face is what woke you from the deepest and sweetest sleep you’d had in six months. Your first instinct was to smile, humming in satisfaction as you stretched your well rested muscles.

Your second instinct was to reach for him. 

You shouldn’t be surprised, shouldn’t pull your knees to your chest, shouldn’t be crying alone in your cold bed. Of course he left. He was always going to leave.

Some small, pathetic voice in the back of your mind said, “maybe he just went to break things off with her.”

Even though it made you feel like the most pitiful girl in the world, you checked his location, still available from the night before. He was on Figure 8, the address you had gone to yesterday. He was at his wedding. 

He had wanted you to ask him not to marry her. He never would’ve said it, but you could see it on his face. He had too much to lose, too many people depending on him, too much weight on his shoulders. But maybe he would’ve given it all up, if only you’d asked.

You threw your phone across the room in frustration. Maybe you should’ve just asked him to stay with you, maybe you should’ve put your pride aside this one time, maybe this was all your fault. 

You were up and out of bed before you had time to talk yourself out of it. You pulled on your catering clothes from the night before. Surely, they wouldn’t let you in the gate if you looked like some wedding crashing pogue, but maybe you could slip in undetected if it seemed like you still worked there.

You don’t even remember driving there, your stomach on fire with nerves and something that might even be excitement, as you raced across the island. The clock in your car read 1:03pm, and you prayed to whatever god was listening that the ceremony had started late.

As you planned, they let you right in the gate when you said you were with the caterer. You didn’t even bother to park at the service entrance, your tires squealing as you came to a stop right in front of the house, leaving the engine running as you ran towards the ceremony site. You could hear music playing in the distance, hoping it was the processional. 

But when you turned the corner, you heard a large crowd break into applause. You came to a halt, backing up to hide under the cover of a tree a few yards from the end of the aisle. You watched as Rafe appeared, his beaming bride on his arm. He dipped her low, giving her a kiss as the crowd cheered again, the gold ring on his left hand glinting in the sunlight.

You were too late.

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄��⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂

a/n: sorry.