#ANYWAY to get away from getting in it again:

[secretlovezz]

Whiplash

Eddie Munson x Fem!reader

Summary: you've been avoiding Eddie like the plague and he's desperate to figure out what he's done to deserve it.

Warnings: hurt/comfort?? idk, kissing, fluffy ending, pining, idiots in love, use of y/n, she/her pronouns used for reader, reader is a crybaby ig idk she reacted how I would soooo, lmk if i missed anything!

Wordcount: 2010

A/N: Not really proofread and kind of written in a rush cause I wasn't feeling it about halfway through so sorry if you can tell 😞

You weren't there... again.

Your absence from your usual seat to the left of Eddie leaves him in a deep state of confusion his eyebrows furrowing in thought. This was the fifth day without your presence at his side, almost an entire week without your voice giddily telling him about the book you were reading or a new recipe you've tried, almost an entire week of being deprived of that perfect little gleam in your eyes when you looked at him rambling about something you enjoyed, and his heart ached in deprivation.

And because of this, he could with full confidence say you were avoiding him- but as to why he had no idea.

Eddie's silent at the lunch table staring at nothing in particular, and though the guys -especially the freshman- had finally learned to normalize Eddie's peculiar-ness and oddities this new silence and bleak aura had them surprised. He was stuck in his head racking through everything that's happened in the last week that could have possibly scared you away from him.

He thinks about the time he asked you for help with his math homework, but that couldn't be it considering that definitely was not the first time he'd asked and definitely was not the first time you'd happily agreed to do so. He reminisces about when he'd come to visit you during your shift at the local library in boredom playfully bothering you as you re-placed books onto the shelf.

He thinks and thinks and thinks but nothing comes to mind for your sudden evasion.

"Dude, you think any harder and steam will come out of your ears," Gareth rolls his eyes at Eddie, "What the hell's wrong with you anyway?"

Eddie leans back in his chair and dramatically throws his head back to look at the ceiling, his hair flows behind him and moves as people walk by, "She's avoiding me."

Dustin's head snaps up, still chewing his food he inserts himself into the conversation, "Who? Y/N? I just talked to her last period, she seemed fine," He shrugged.

At that Eddies head pops back up, eyes locking with Dustin's in a way that leaves the younger boy cringing, and the crease between his brows intensifies, "So she's still talking to you guys but not me?" He starts to pout a little by the end of his question.

Everyone sends looks to each other before slowly nodding and Eddie's forehead loudly makes contact with the cafeteria table, the guys wince in response.

"Well... have you tried- I don't know, asking her about it?"

The glare sent in Mikes direction after his question almost makes him apologize. Eddie heatedly scratches his head and groans in irritation; he'd tried more than a handful of times to get ahold of you, tried more than enough times to just hear your voice again but nothing worked. When he waited by your locker you would walk the other way, when he called you, you hung up as soon as you heard his voice, and worst of all you would throw out the little notes he sent you in class as you walked out and away from him once again.

"Duh! Of course I have," Eddies reply is laced with annoyance and frustration, "But I can't ask her anything if she keeps running away- I mean come on! She won't even look at me, man." His voice is soft and emotional when speaking his last sentence, He runs his hand over his face weakly and suddenly he feels like he's being pitied. He doesn't want that.

He hastily moves to pick up his things, thrusting the items into his little lunch box with more force than necessary with a pout on his tired face before standing from his seat and angrily walking away across the cafeteria, from the table and the others. They all sigh when he makes it past the cafeteria doors and after a silent moment Jeff is the first who speaks up, "So- When do you guys think they'll get over themselves and finally get together?"

《----------♡

When the last bell rings after what feels like years to Eddie he's swiftly making his way out of class and out of the building, but now what time would usually be spent merrily walking to his car and making plans to see you during the weekend was spent instead making his way into the woods strolling past trees and going to the little picnic table placed in that clearing he visits every once in awhile.

He stares at the ground and his feet as he treads, kicking rocks, stones, and branches on the way.

Eddies just about there just a few trees away from the clearing before he hears footsteps other than his own a little ways ahead of him he pauses head finally lifting to look in front of him and waits to see who appears.

To his surprise you pop into his vision and his round, brown eyes widen. He goes to take a step forward his body automatically and urgently trying to get to you, desperately needing to be near the drug that is you, but he stops himself to observe.

You sit at the table and pull a book out from the satchel bag at your side and a humorous huff leaves through his nose, his face relaxing and lips curling up at the sight of you doing something you often enthusiastically spoke to him about before realizing that its a book he does not recognize, that you had started a new one, and you hadn't told him like you usually would have. The thought wipes the smile from his face in an instant and his brows furrow for the nth time that day.

He steps forward and does not stop himself this time, sauntering toward you almost as angrily has he had left the cafeteria without your knowledge as you are already too engrossed in whatever new story you were traveling into. When he sits across from you at the table you feel it shift with the added weight and at last realize that you are no longer alone.

When you eventually look up, placing your thumb in-between the pages you were reading to keep your place, your heart drops at the sight of the frustrated man in front of you. You try to move away but he quickly grabs your wrist urging you to sit back down, you look at him again and the anguish written on his face makes you find your seat.

Your gaze moves to your lap and Eddie doesn't let you go too afraid you run away again.

Eddie is the one to break the stifling silence, "Talk to me... please?" The sound of his voice makes your heart ache so guiltily it hurts, "Just- Just tell what I did wrong- tell me so I can fix it."

Though your mouth opens to respond nothing comes out and your eyes gloss over with salty tears. Eddie's hold on your wrist moves to your hand gently cupping it in his calloused palm while his thumb moves to continuously swipe over your warm skin.

Your cheeks warm at the intimate contact and it only makes your eyes well with my tears reminding you of why you were ignoring him in the first place.

"When you-," You struggle to get the words out of your closing throat but Eddie still listens patiently, "Last time... you- you did something. It wasn't a big deal to you- but um... to me it- it meant a lot and that's kind of the problem."

The brunette across from you leans in closer and tilts his head in confusion, "What did I do?"

You glance to the side in embarrassment but Eddie's thumb taps you twice to bring your attention back to the conversation, "Talk to me Princess; Tell me what I did so we can go back to normal, I miss my best friend."

You didn't want to go back to normal.

For the first time in days your eyes connect with Eddie's and you take in a shaky breath at the sight of his enchanting eyes. "You uh- you kissed me..."

Now he's confused. He had kissed you? When? He's sure he would remember finally getting to kiss you.

Your free hand travels to your cheek and it all clicks for him, the pieces falling into place. He can't help but let out a chuckle of amusement; you were right- he had kissed you, kissed you on your cheek, that is, a sweet little peck against your skin. His laughter dies out when you rip your hand from his, the tears in your eyes spilling over.

Eddie stands and rounds the table to you, "Hey hey I- I'm I shouldn't have laughed. Don't cry, sweetheart." His hands place themselves on your elbows as your hands move to cover your face. He starts to feel like that little kiss really did more than he had thought.

"Did it make you uncomfortable? I won't do it again I promise," You shake your head at his words, "Talk to me, baby."

"Don't do that! Don't call me those names if you don't mean it," Eddies eyes go wide at your outburst and his mouth opens to speak but you beat him to it, "you- you kiss me and call me those names and I- It's just too much... I like you too much."

All too quickly Eddie is forcefully removing your hands from your face and cupping your cheeks thumbing the tears from your skin, "I like you too much too."

"Don't be mean Eddie."

He connects his forehand to yours, both of your eyes closing at the closeness, "M'not, would never joke about that." His soft pink lips brush gently against yours as he speaks and your breath hitches. Your lips part slightly and your cold breath fans Eddie's face. "How can I show you I mean it hm? How 'bout... a real kiss?" He mutters. You nod all too briskly for someone who was just crying and it makes Eddie smile.

In the fullness of time Eddie presses his lips to yours and when he finally gets the taste of your lips on his he realizes he's waited entirely too long to do this despite being willing to wait an eternity for you. He's been starving for the absolute goddess that is you, now getting to satisfy that hunger digging in with no resistance and sliding his tongue past your lips flushed against him. The ache he had felt without you there fading once and for all as you kissed him back. Your hands atop his squeeze as a noise escapes the back of your throat and Eddie kisses you deeper at your audible reaction. He wants to consume you, wants to keep you so close you never leave his side, he needs it- needs you and makes sure it shows in the way he kisses you.

When he pulls away your both panting for air, Eddie's grin is smug on the top of your head and your arms are wrapped around him.

"I can't believe you made me feel like shit for an entire week just cause I gave you a lil' kiss on the cheek," Eddie mocked trying to get a quick quip in.

"Shut up! It totally freaked me out."

His loud cackle echoed in your ears and you smiled, pulling him closer and pressing your nose into his skin. Eddie's arms moved to wrap around you as well and his large hands snake around you also trying to squeeze you impossibly closer. He presses a fast peck on your cheek, then your temple, and then the top of your head. Eddie takes a deep breath inhaling the scent of you- memorizing it.

"Promise you won't do that to me again. Don't leave me alone like that again."

"I won't Eds, I promise."

"Besides! What are you going to do without me here being oh so entertaining huh?"

You laugh, "I have no idea."

[sukirichi]

WHEN I SEE YOU AGAIN | G. SATORU x READER

You’ve been pretending not to see ghosts your whole life in order to blend in perfectly, but you can’t ignore the cute ghost with a bright smile standing in front of your door.

cw. ghost! gojo. fem! reader. minimal fluff. graphic depictions of murder. angst. hurt no comfort. mentions of grief. mentions of being under the influence (alcohol and drugs.) characters with depression. unedited.

notes. wrote a lil something for gojo since it’s been a while since i wrote any jjk fics and i missed it :( also should i open requests again? i miss writing one shots lol

wc. 7k

You met him on the first night of winter.

Eager to get home after a long and tiring day at work, you blow hot air on your freezing palms to keep them warm before stuffing it deep in your coat pockets. The walk home was less than fifteen minutes, and you’ve always refused to buy a car because you enjoyed the journey and wanted to familiarize yourself more with the city. You previously lived in the outskirts, but after a phone call from the main department telling you you were promoted and had to transfer in the city, you found yourself packing up on the weekend and renting a cheap apartment.

Located in the middle of everything – convenience stores, medical facilities, popular bars, and a quaint looking flower shop with a cute florist – you thought your apartment was perfect. It was a little shabby, you had to admit. The plumbing didn’t work well and electricity got cut off at random times in the night that resulted in a headache because you couldn’t send that damn email, but the landlord offered an extremely cheap rent that you couldn’t refuse. Plus, it was only a few minutes walk from your office and your neighbors were peaceful.

Well, most of them anyway.

Your neighbors consisted of mostly old couples who were so silent and desolate that you often forgot they existed, your eyes widening whenever you saw an unfamiliar old lady walking and asking you how your day was before realizing, Oh, she’s Mrs. Oliver, I completely forgot. Save for the married couple who were always throwing pots and pans at each other because darn Ronald couldn’t put the toilet seat back down, your place was placid. The landlord was ecstatic when you saw her poster and inquired for a unit, muttering something about not getting enough tenants to keep the place going because of ‘a traumatic issue.’

You’d really rather not ask what it was.

Besides, you’ve never been curious enough of what the world has to offer, simply because you see things – or rather fragments of people – that you’d rather not see. Ever since you started seeing ghosts at a young age of four, people avoided you like the plague, calling you a ‘freak’ and whatnot. Your family soon moved away to a much smaller place in the city because they couldn’t handle seeing their child who often talked to ghosts and sat in corners alone while laughing by herself be criticized by others. They didn’t believe you, of course, often calling it a ‘lonely child’s imagination.’ They sent you to multiple therapists who always assured you that they would listen to whatever problems you were having to cause you to be this way.

Unfortunately for them, there wasn’t anything wrong with you. You weren’t lonely at all. You saw a dozen ghosts every day who were always ecstatic at finding out you could see them, and they were more than willing to interact. As a child, you always thought ghosts were more interesting than actual people because they had an unlimited amount of time to converse with you, and they have had so many experiences to share with you. 

When you grew older, however, you started to see yourself in other’s eyes, realization dawning on you that on social norms, you are, indeed, a freak.

Determined to fit in more and also sick of being faced with countless counselors who strongly believed you had a traumatic experience when your whole life has been nothing but bland and plain, you started ignoring them. It wasn’t easy at first, though. These ghosts have always kept you company while everyone gave you the side eye without knowing who you really were, and you admit you felt lonely in the beginning and a little guilty when they were convinced you couldn’t see them anymore.

You participated more in school activities and even joined a photography club in high school (you had to quit a month later because ghosts kept appearing on your photos, and you had to burn them in order not to freak anyone out) and with each baby step you took, you started to fit in more. The proud look your parents had on their faces when you had finally become ‘normal’ and even got an award for being an exemplary student was enough to keep you going on this journey, and you ignored the lonely spirits so hard that you eventually started seeing less and less of them.

Until now.

Standing in front of your door was a young man, his back awkwardly bent and long, beautiful fingers fiddling awkwardly with one another. He stood barefoot yet wore a comfy looking blue university hoodie and grey sweatpants, and his silver hair seemed shiny and healthy enough to  not consider him a homeless man who was lost and simply wandering. Tipping your head to the side, you rack your brain to remember if you had any neighbours like him. 

His head snaps in your direction. 

He is definitely not your neighbour. You would have remembered such a cute looking guy.

He had unnaturally ethereal futures, prominent cheekbones becoming more pronounced when you meet his eyes, and you blink to gain control over your body when you realize you’ve been staring too long than what would be considered acceptable. You don’t even deny you’ve been checking him out, although you do ignore the almost puppy-like way his eyes lit up at the sight of you, causing your heart to jump a little. Just a little. You also liked how his hair complimented perfectly with his pale skin – he seemed like an exact embodiment of winter. 

You walk forward, spinning your keys at the end of your pointer finger. Smiling at him politely, you paused in your tracks. He’d been blocking your door. “Hello, is there something I can help you with?”

No matter how cute he was, you wouldn’t hesitate to break his nose if he was a criminal.

His pretty hands come up to his face to cover his mouth falling open, and you take a step back when he does a little jump and starts laughing. “You can see me?”

“Uhm, yes,” you answer. “You’re blocking my door, so yeah, I can very much see you.”

As if realizing just now he stood in the way of you and your comfortable bed, who was calling out to you by now, he mutters a quick apology under his breath before stepping aside, a goofy grin remaining on his face and his childish behavior makes you scoff in amusement. He was still watching you even after you’ve unlocked your door, and you sigh at him. “Is there any reason you’re still standing outside my apartment, or should I call the police?”

Instead of looking worried like you expected him to, his smile only gets bigger. “Actually, I live here, well… I used to.”

You stare at him blankly with a slack expression on your face, watching as his features turn sheepish. He rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. Looking down on his bare feet, you mumble a curse under your breath when you realize he’s hovering. 

“Not again,” you say to yourself before placing a palm against your forehead. It’s been years since you last saw a ghost, why did you have to see them now out of all times? A new branch is opening up and your superiors have given you the project of making sure the launch goes well, and you didn’t really want a ghost bothering you with your biggest task of all time. You worked hard for this promotion, you didn’t want to take one step forward and two steps back. Glaring at the undeniably attractive ghost who still hovered in your doorway, you decided he wasn’t your problem. 

“Well, goodnight.”

You slam the door on him and trudge towards your bedroom, ignoring his “Wait!” as you unwrap the red scarf around your neck and plop on your bed almost lazily, moaning when your stiff muscles finally relax. The bed was so soft and warm because you’d left the heater on accidentally, and you’re about to be sent to dreamland when a voice beside you speaks up.

“You should take off your makeup before going to bed.”

Opening your eyes and coming face-to-face with the ghost who was resting his chin in both of his hands and laying on your bed, you grab a pillow and throw it at him, and he grins when the object goes past him completely. “Get out of my house, stop bothering me!”

“Technically, darling, this is still my house,” he tells you and starts sitting up before crossing his legs. “The unit was still named after me before you came.”

“Then why wasn’t I informed about that?”

“I was murdered here four years ago,” he deadpans, soft voice flitting into a murmur as he plays with his fingers again, refusing to look at you. “That’s why I never left. Judging from what you said earlier, you can see ghosts, and you know exactly why we’re still here.”

Swallowing a lump in your throat, you stumble over your words. “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t know and–”

“It’s quite alright,” he shrugs. 

Silence soon joins the two of you; the ghost playing with the ends of your blanket with a far-off look in his face while you study his features, and something tugs at your heart. The reason why ghosts remain here instead of passing on like they were supposed to was because it meant someone was still holding on to them and absolutely refused to let go, or if they had unfinished business that needed to be resolved before they could go in peace. You’ve met ghosts like him who were murdered, and all of them remained with a seething rage and insatiable need for revenge, unable to accept that there wasn’t much they could do in their state. 

As for the one sitting in your ghost, a small smile tugs at the end of his pink lips as he takes in your bedroom, amusement dancing in his eyes at the amount of stuffed animals you had and some framed photos of you as a child. 

“You decorate much better than me, and you’re a lot more organized, too. This place was such a mess back when I was still alive.”

There was an unmissable hint of sadness behind his voice, and you can’t help but ask his name. “I’m Satoru,” he grins, “and for the record, I’ve always been here, just floating through time and space, but not the afterworld yet. For some reason, ever since you arrived, I just appeared back where I left off.”

You nod and take in his words, noticing how he clears his throat and sends a sheepish look your way. “If it’s not too much of a bother, can I ask for your help?”

“What is it?”

He stands up and heads toward your desk, although you supposed it was his since the furniture had already been here before you came. You didn’t think too much about it back then and only felt grateful that you had one less piece of furniture to buy, especially since it was empty. Apparently not, because Satoru keeps digging around through your files with his tongue peeking out his lips, and you vaguely recall that ghosts are able to touch things after feeding off of energy from living beings.

Letting out an ‘aha!’ when his hand finally lands on what he’s looking for, he tenderly places a photo on your outstretched palm with a shy smile. Inside the photo was a beautiful man, probably in his mid twenties, his hair up in a messy bun as he grinned at the camera. Beside him, Satoru’s eyes are closed with his head thrown back in laughter, relishing the feeling of that warm sunny day, and you unconsciously frown at it.

“His name’s Suguru,” he began, his eyes turning glossy at the sight of the polaroid. “He was my best friend before I died.”

Pursing your lips and feeling the tension thicken the room, you ask him, “Why are you telling me this?”

“He’s the reason why I can’t go,” he admits, shoulders dropping while his eyes remain trained on her. “He blames himself for everything and refuses to accept that I’m gone, that’s why I’m still here.”

You remain silent and take a deep breath, your head pounding at the situation. It was a beautiful first night of winter, the perfect weather for you to do your work from home while nestling a cup of hot cocoa in your hands, yet it seems your plans changed and you have to help this ghost out. A part of you wants to reach out and embrace him in a hug, but you know you’ll only end up stumbling on your own feet and clearly, Satoru wants to move on to the next chapter of his journey.

“Can you please tell him I’m okay now?”

When he looks at you like that, shoulders hanging low and an almost shy smile decorating his innocent features, it’s hard to say no.

“I will.”

Through the past few weeks since you’ve met Satoru, your life seemed to light up like a Christmas tree without you noticing. He was a funny guy and often pulled pranks on you, like slamming the cabinets open and closed or leaving your window open in the middle of the night, laughing when you shout at him as your teeth chatter and you slam your windows shut. 

“I could have died from the cold, you idiot!”

He keeps laughing as if he didn’t nearly kill you with hypothermia, “Well, if you die, I guess we’ll be together then,” and even has the audacity to wiggle his eyebrows. You scowl at him and pull your jacket closer to your body, asking what he wants from you because he never goes this far to demand for your attention unless he wants something from you.

“What do you want this time?”

“I wanted to finish that series we were watching the other day,” he pouts rather childishly, “You always tell me not to watch it without you.”

On a particular weekend where you felt like your brains were about to explode from exhaustion due to your work piling up, you refused to wake up until noon, and you felt thankful Satoru knew how tired you were and let you have your much needed rest. When you woke up, a bowl of cereal was already waiting for you in your kitchen island, meaning the reason you felt tired even after that long slumber was because he fed off your energy to give you food.

Feeling thankful for the simple, sweet action, you munched on it happily. It wasn’t anything special and the corn flakes had gone too crusty for your liking, but Satoru’s happiness at you appreciating what he prepared was worth it. After breakfast, you dumped the bowl into the sink and planned to wash it later, opting to flick through Netflix for a good show. Satoru had excitedly pointed at one title that he said he’s always wanted to watch, and the two of you became hooked on it soon enough. Lunch and dinner were both forgotten as you two sat beside each other, your leg against his. Although you couldn’t exactly feel him, his presence was warm.

You and Satoru had been so immersed in the show and unexpected turn of events that time flew by and it was already half past three. He was the first to notice and he jumped from his seat, his hands waving worriedly in a comical manner. “I’m so sorry I made you skip your meals! Aren’t you hungry, you should have some pizza delivered or something.”

Glancing at the clock, you hummed when you realized it was indeed late. You weren’t feeling hungry since you were mostly abeyant, and nothing was open to deliver food around this time anyway. “It’s okay,” you shrug, “I’m not really hungry, and that show is addicting. Oh, and don’t watch it without me! I know you always go ahead when I’m not home!”

Satoru huffs and plops down next to you dramatically, rolling his eyes and taunting you. “Then don’t go to work, Little Miss Manager.”

You poke your finger with his forehead but it only passes through and he laughs, “I need money to survive, idiot.”

“Whatever,” he dismisses and points to your bedroom. “You’ve still got to edit your final draft, so you have to wake up early. Go to bed, don’t worry about the dish, I’ll handle it.���

“Liar, you’ll only feed from my energy so you can play video games!”

“Hey, you can’t blame me!” He counters back as he proceeds to your sink and pumps out soap to the sponge, “You were the one who bought me that console!”

“Only because you kept whining to me how much you wanted it,” you retorted before yawning, and his eyes softened at the sight of you. He rarely gets to see you dressed so comfortably in a loose shirt, cardigan and pajama pants since you were such a busy woman whose fashion sense monotonously consisted of pearl white button-up blouses and knee-length pencil skirts. Prudish and preppy, he thought, but it suits you just fine.  

“You should sleep now,” he reminds you with a nod of his head back to your bedroom, and you obey, simply because your eyes were sore and tired from binge watching. You’re in the process of cocooning yourself under the covers when he calls out in a sing-song voice, “Thank you for the console, by the way. I knew you couldn’t resist me.”

“Shut up!” You scream, and his rambunctious laugh was the last thing you heard before your body wholeheartedly welcomed sleep. 

You’ve been thinking about that day ever since, the moment replaying over and over again in your head, successfully distracting you from focusing on your work. Even your co-workers have noticed that you’re lusterlacking lately, but how could you focus on anything else when you had a charming yet lonely ghost who was waiting for you at home?

For days on end, you can only think about the cheerful and carefree sound of his laugh as if he had so much happiness in his lithe body that he couldn’t contain. Your heart always got tugged in its heartstrings whenever you had trouble falling asleep and he sat beside you in your bed, singing you lullabies and caressing your cheek. You started to feel him now – the gush of air in your skin meant he was pressing onto you, and the more you got attached to him, the more you got confused with your feelings.

He never told you how he was murdered and you never asked, figuring it would be too sensitive for him, and your hands balled into fists each time you remembered he was dead. Satoru is such a precious person who only has too much love to give, and it was completely unfair and outrageous that his life was taken away from him in a single flash. You’ve done your research at work, and only a few articles came up regarding his death. The case remains a mystery and still unsolved until it was completely closed due to lack of leads or suspects, but the police force highly suspected someone had broken in and committed homicide without theft, since not a single belonging of him got touched. They concluded that the murderer was drunk and lost, because he was a well-loved person in their campus, and they couldn’t find anyone who could possibly harbor abhorrence for the sweet boy.

But most of all, a part of you wants him to stay. He frequently asks you if you’ve talked to Suguru, and you always denied it, making up an excuse about how he was hard to find because he graduated years ago. ‘He’s hard to find,’ you would tell him one day, and ‘He doesn’t have social media,’ the next. Even though he told you he majored in Forensics, you couldn’t find anyone in the city. 

It’s a half lie. You never found Suguru, because you never looked for him in the first place.

You know it’s selfish of you to be this way, because you know Satoru wants to move on. He doesn’t say anything about it and keeps laughing instead, but sometimes when he thinks you’re too immersed in your work to notice him, you look at him. Being around you only reminds him of what he no longer has, and one look at him has you knowing he was someone who loved life. Satoru loved to travel with his friends, and he still had so many dreams left unfulfilled that made him feel empty yet desperate to be in the afterworld.

However, it is hard for you to let him go. 

No matter how much you try to fit in, deep inside, you know you will always be too different from the rest. You still struggled with socializing and didn’t have a single friend yet a hundred acquaintances, and you never realized how lonely you were until he came. His smile lit up the whole room and his laugh was melodious, and you don’t think you’ve ever met anyone who cared so much for you. He liked to play games and pull pranks on you quite often, but underneath all that lies a kind heart.

Satoru knows exactly when his jokes go too far and apologizes right away, promising not to do something to upset you again and always doing something entirely new to cheer you up. On nights where you’re feeling absolutely drained or you carried home your anger at your co-workers, you go to sleep without taking off your makeup. When you wake, there’s used wipes in the bin, the hovering boy in your apartment proud of his work. Sometimes you forget to cover yourself in blankets too, plopping on top of the sheets almost lifelessly. It’s in those times that he shows how much he cares for you, and you soon wake up feeling warm surrounded by heavy blankets and freshly cooked breakfast.

As much as you didn’t want to admit it, you were falling for him. It made interacting with him difficult, because you knew you had to let him go, yet you couldn’t.

He watches you carefully and gauges your reaction, waiting to see if you’ll finish the series with him or not. It’s a Wednesday night, or more accurately an early morning on Thursday and the launch happens in less than a week. Logically, it is much better to go back to sleep and refuse, but he is rocking his weight on his heels back and forth, and you realize perhaps he has been lonely since his death too.

“Fine,” you agree, and now he’s bouncing excitedly next to you on your couch as he keeps pressing buttons in your remote.

“You’re the best, you know that?” 

You only hum in response, and Satoru soon becomes lost in the show. Your eyes aren’t focused on the screen – on him rather. Placed on top of your fist lies your cheek as you study his side profile, trying to memorize the slope of his nose and the snow-white hair that keeps falling onto his eyes that makes him flip it to the side every now and then to watch the show. His right leg keeps bouncing up and down, a habit he had when he was anxiously anticipating something, and then stopping before his left leg went bouncing instead, meaning he didn’t like the situation.

Tearing your eyes away from him, you smile sadly when you realize his favorite character had been betrayed. “Did you see that? That freaking woman, he only loved her and she snitched him out like that?!”

Shrugging one shoulder and feeling your eyes become droopy, you reply, “Well, he’s a grave robber, Satoru, he was only nice to her because he liked her. She had every right to mislead him.”

“I don’t understand, but okay,” he relents and leans back, eyes closing before he intertwines his hands behind his neck and murmurs, “I hated the ending.”

“Not everyone gets happy endings,” you add grimly, watching the muscles underneath his hoodie flex at your comment. The two of you remain silent for a few minutes, and plucking up the courage, you breathe in sharply before slowly lowering yourself until your head is on his shoulder. 

You keep yourself still in order not to fall, and your eyes remain fixated on his hand, silently yearning to be able to touch him. If he was alive, would his skin be as warm as his presence? His hand flexes and trails from his lap until it’s beside yours, and you hear him swallow audibly before locking your fingers with his.

A tear falls down your face. You could feel him. 

Satoru hums a familiar tune, and you chuckle happily when you recognize it’s the song he always sings to you to make you sleep, his fingers rubbing soothing circles on your knuckles.

His other hand tilts your chin upwards until you’re looking directly at his eyes. You hold in your breath, his lips only a centimeter away from yours. If you lean forward, you could kiss him… but you don’t. 

“Why are you crying?”

Because I don’t want you to go.

“Nothing,” you lie and offer a forced smile which he notices, but doesn’t comment about it. “I just feel happy.”

He nods slowly before leaning forward, and he gets so close that you can faintly see his freckles that dot across his cheeks lovingly, and your eyes flutter shut when his lips press against yours. Satoru sighs as if he’s been waiting too long to do that, and he is pushing against you so softly, so tenderly, that it almost fits the same atmosphere your heart creates. He is soft in everything he does, from his innocent features and smile that puts the stars to shame, to how he holds you and caresses you. His hand trails from your neck to pull you closer, and you moan when his tongue peeks out and playfully coaxes yours out to play. Tears are streaming down your face when you kiss him back slowly, tongues moving in sync as they danced harmoniously instead of battling each other for dominance. Caressing your face that fits perfectly in his hand, he brushes away your tears with the pad of his thumbs. 

A moment passes before you two are breathing heavily with your foreheads pressed against each other, and the silence is broken when he speaks, his voice coming out raspy and out of breath. 

“Suguru… has been struggling long before I died.”

“What?”

“My best friend… he got into a rough patch. Had troubles with his parents, went down the wrong path, and met dangerous people. I’d heard rumors he was going around skipping class and talking to people I’ve never seen before, but I chose to ignore it. Suguru would’ve told me everything once he was ready. And I was stupid, you know? I saw it. I saw how he stopped smiling, how he’d lost weight. How his eyes no longer looked happy,” Satoru’s hands trembled, the blue of his eyes hauntingly dark. “One night, I overheard him talking to someone on the phone. I’ve never heard him that angry, and I got worried. I wanted to stop him from whatever he’ll end up doing so I invited him over but… Next thing I know, he came over here, drunk and high, and stabbed me until I bled to death.”

You gasp and shudder as you imagine the scene, Satoru lying on his bed as he waited anxiously for his friend. You see him smiling at Suguru excitedly because he’d actually come, but fear replaces it when his friend succumbs to the madness. The image of Satoru drowning in his own pool of blood made you clench your jaw.

“There had to be evidence left.”

Satoru smiles sadly as if to tell you it doesn’t bother him anymore, but you can’t shake it off. How can a man be so blinded in his own misery that he could take his own best friend’s life? “He was a forensics major; he knew how to cover up his crime.”

A pregnant pause fills the room as you furrow your brows, the sound of the cold wind tapping against your windows as you rack your head to make a decision. Now that you knew the truth, you had to tell the police about it, but how would they believe you if there was no evidence found? And if the case was cleared, and Suguru had finally moved on, that means...

“You can ask me to stay.”

“What?” You breathe out, looking at his eyes with sadness pooling in them. He’s smiling, one that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. You pull away from him completely until he’s at an arm’s length away. He doesn’t look hurt by your action but he sighs, reaching out for you and pausing with his hand mid-air when you raise a palm to stop him.

He must’ve known you’re in love with him. Just as he also knows that once he leaves, you’ll be hurt, and he doesn’t want you to feel that.

You shake your head and stand up harshly. The tears now uncontrollable as you slam your bedroom door to his face. You’re slightly thankful he doesn’t come after you and leaves you alone instead. You needed time. Time to think, time to put his needs over yours - time to forget him. Rummaging through the documents on your desk, you keep looking for it until the polaroid is clutched between your fingers, and you silently place it in your handbag.

Tomorrow, you would set things straight.

Suguru Geto was a hard man to find. He’d fled from the spotlight as one of the  best students of his university after Satoru Gojo’s death. The image of his best friend, who was always in high spirits and laughed without a care in the world, covered in his own blood was a sight that scarred him for the rest of her life. 

But there was one more person who hadn’t moved on from that night.

Ieri Shoko, the woman who ran first at the hospital when Satoru’s parents were away for a business trip. She didn’t want to believe it at first. Satoru had always seemed so full of life, so in love with what the world had to offer. He’d been so young – it just couldn’t be. They had to be lying, right?

But when she finally saw her friend’s bloodied corpse on that cold hospital bed, she’d fallen apart.

She went to sleep crying to herself every night, regretting and blaming everything on herself. Her instinct told her it was Suguru who had done this to him. She barged into his dorm room, screaming and flailing, punching the taller man and effectively breaking his nose as she dragged him down by the collar. Suguru was already questioned by the police after Satoru’s murder, but his alibi of being in a bar was factual, and they had proven his innocence after checking surveillance cameras. He was only gone for a few minutes before he appeared on the dance floor all over again, and they believed him when he said he only disappeared to go to the restroom.

Presumably to wash the blood off his hands.

Shoko didn’t believe it. “Tell me you didn’t kill him, tell me!”

Suguru growls, frustrated at her for even accusing him of doing such a horrendous thing, and he feigns his innocence as he pries her hands away from his collar. “I didn’t do it, Ieri, I was at a bar!”

“Bullshit!” She screams, slamming a vase onto the floor and dropping down to the floor as sobs wrecked through her body. “I smelled your perfume the moment I walked in. I know it was you…”

His eyes widened, but he remained silent because she had always been smart and too observant for her own good. He shrugs his collar back into place and goes back to his bedroom, but not before darkly muttering, “I didn’t do it, I didn’t kill him…”

Four years later, and you’re sitting in front of Officer Kento, an intimidating man with empty eyes staring at you hardly, his face devoid of any emotion. He’d been the same officer who worked on Satoru’s case before it was closed. “And why should I believe you? Ghosts don’t exist.”

You snap your head up from your lap to him and scowl, “I just want to help you here, Officer.  You need to re-open this case.”

He abruptly stands up and slams his palm harshly against the desk, his eyes filled with rage as he stares down at you. “You don’t think I haven’t tried before?!”

“Well then, try harder!” You fumed, standing up. “If you don’t resolve this case, he’s going to remain here forever, lost and nowhere to go. Do you really want him to suffer even after his death?”

“How am I supposed to believe everything you say is true?”

Plucking out their polaroid from your bag and shoving it to his chest, you watch as he crumbles piece by piece. He holds the photo tentatively before cradling it to his chest, and what you presumed was a cold-hearted man was actually just a lost person.

“I don’t know why you closed that case, but it isn’t over. He’s still here, and he needs our help.”

You turn away from him to give him peace and wrap your fingers around the doorknob, “Suguru Geto is out there walking freely. You can still make a difference, Sir. It’s not too late.”

Happiness was a concept you believed to be fleeting.

One moment, you are giggling with the ghosts who tell you funny stories and whisper mischievously in your ear the correct answers in your pre-school days, and the next moment you are pressing a hand against your car windows, watching as the only people you considered friends are witnessing you leave without a goodbye.

That feeling comes back again and again, from little moments such as eating lunch with your high school friends and making empty promises to keep in touch after graduation, giggling when a cute boy comes by and asks for your number. But like any other moment in your life where you feel happy, that feeling dissipates as fast as it came.

The bell attached to the door chimes to signal a customer, and the cute florist you met on the first day you moved to this city, Choso, looks up from the pot he’s currently watering. Bowing politely, he sends a pleased smile upon the sight of you.

You tuck a stray hair behind your ear and return the smile back, his musky perfume blending in well with the sweet aroma of flowers as he stops in front of you. “Hi, I haven’t seen you in a long time.”

“I’m sorry,” you apologize sheepishly, “Our latest branch just opened downtown, so I was a bit busy with that.”

“Oh, you work for that bookshop everyone’s been talking about non-stop?” You nod and laugh at his question, proud of yourself that the new opening had been successful. The state campus was only three bus rides away, and with the extensive amount of books your bookstore offered, along with its affordable prices, everyone’s been talking about it. “I’m proud of you, it was a success,” he commends, rubbing his dirties hands on his apron before opening the door for you. What can I get you?”

Personally, you thought Choso was a bit too rugged to be working in a floral shop. He always seemed to carry himself in such an awkward manner and had an authoritative yet welcoming aura to him, his shy smiles the highlights of your day. “I want to give it to my friend. Today’s their special day.”

“I see,” Choso’s eyes are already scanning the plethora of flowers he has in his shop, his brows pinching together in thought. “Can you tell me a little bit about them? It’d help to make their bouquet more personal.”

A smile makes its way to your face. “They’re… bright, carefree, innocent, and pure. They almost seem like an angel, if you ask me. I was also thinking about something that represents young love, and… new beginnings?”

You have absolutely no idea what you’re saying. The words coming out of your mouth are beyond your control. You’re sure you’re making a fool out of yourself, but Choso nods understandingly, frows burrowed before he snaps his fingers and turns to you. “White roses describe all of those, but if you want, I can whip up more flowers for you.”

He makes a move to get his scissors and starts listing off flowers with the same meanings, but you run up to him and not so accidentally wrap your hands around his to get him to stop. His eyes widen at your close proximity. You clear your throat and take a step backward, fighting the urge to smile when his cheeks are dusted a fine pink. “White roses itself are fine, thank you.”

He gulps and heads towards the back door, coming out later with a bouquet of white roses. You reach for your wallet before his arm wraps around your wris, his smile wobbly and hesitant. “It’s on the house. You can pay me back with a cup of coffee next time.”

Eyebrows rising at his smoothness, you gratefully accept the flowers and cradle it near to your chest. “A cup of coffee it is.”

Choso chuckles shyly and ducks his head, and you leave the shop with a wave of your hand before walking further and further. Your surroundings shift from the high-rise building and busy streets to a hill covered in trees sprawled out everywhere, flowers blooming and withering at every corner. Sitting down on the soil with your legs crossed, you place the bouquet in front of his headstone, his framed polaroid with Suguru standing in front of you. 

It’s been exactly seven days since you last saw Satoru.

After countless sleepless nights of phone calls from Officer Kento, he’d finally cracked the case with your help. Suguru Geto was found. He’d confessed to all his crimes, his handsome face weary yet relieved. It seemed he’d never once forgotten about that night when he betrayed his friend, and just before he was ushered behind bars, he turned to you. You wished you felt anger towards him for what he did, but there was only sadness. Only regret in his eyes. He looked so tired, so hopeless.

“Thank you,” he said softly, “Thank you for finding me.”

A nod was all you could give. Suguru felt so familiar, yet so strange. You’ve heard tons of stories about him from Satoru, all about their happiest moments together. He’d been his closest friend, the one he shared so many dreams with, and the one who knew him the most. Maybe he knew Satoru wouldn’t fight back once his demons consumed him. Maybe when Suguru was holding his friend’s bloodied hand in the night, he knew – Satoru was never mad at him. He only wanted to save his friend. Maybe he knew Satoru wasn’t completely dead yet, not when he lived in everyone’s heart, and most especially yours.

That night when you returned home, the apartment felt colder than ever. Normally, it would mean a ghost lingered. But there was no longer the sound of Satoru’s humming, and the dishes were left half-washed in your sink. And for the first time in your life, you hated your eyes and how it gave you the ability to see the traces he left behind. 

Because you wished you had enough time to say goodbye. You wish you had told him everything, but the thought of being another tether to the living realm weighed down on you. You couldn’t do that to him. He had to go. For Satoru to truly move into the next life, you had to close your heart and forget him. Just as Suguru’s forgiven himself, and just as Shoko’s accepted her friend’s death - you too had to say goodbye. 

Tears clouded your vision.

The white remnants of his soul sparkled in your apartment. For the last time, you watched as the blue of his hoodie finally disappeared, his hands scrubbing your dishes away fading into nothingness. The plate drops and breaks. Satoru stood, his legs vanishing bit by bit as he saw the running water through his hands. He’d wanted to return your apartment to the way it was before he’d met you, but he knew – his time was running out. He didn’t have energy left to turn everything off.

The water floods your apartment. The new series he’d dearly loved still plays on the TV. 

But he was here – hugged by the earth and decorated with flowers, smiling at you from far away even when you could no longer see him. Placing the bouquet of white roses down at his grave, you smiled at the photo they’d taken months before he died. He still looked just as beautiful – all wide smiles, kind eyes, and soft hands.

To you, he was still alive in your heart.

“I’ll see you around, Satoru.”

[wileys-russo]

just like mummy II l.williamson

in the same universe as legacy and little golfer

"mila! mil? mila?" leah called out with a frown, poking her head in each room with a frown that deepened each time she didn't find her daughter.

"okay bubba this isn't funny we need to leave soon!" leah's voice wavered as she ducked down, checking under the beds with a huff as again she came up empty.

"mila? mummy isn't joking we really need to leave!" leahs chest tightened a little as she went room to room hunting for the four year old.

normally you took charge when it came to getting your daughter ready of a morning before training, but considering today was pre season media day you'd had meetings set earlier than leahs so you'd already left before the four year old was up.

normally mila was the very first awake of the three of you but last night she'd been particularly stubborn about refusing to go to bed which leah had promised to take care of after almost two hours of trying to get her settled, practically locking you in the bathroom to shower.

when you'd finished you'd found them both curled up on the lounge in front of the tv, passed out together with a rerun of the euros playing on the large screen.

so with a much later bedtime than normal she'd actually slept in to the point leahs alarm had gone off and she was stunned to be alone in bed, expecting a four year old lump curled up on the end of her bed as usual like a cat.

"ready!" the blonde almost jumped out of her skin as tiny footsteps sounded behind her.

"i look like you! wanted to match today." the girl grinned, one of leahs arsenal kits hanging down on her like a dress and her feet drowned in a pair of football boots and socks which continued to fall down.

"stay up!" the smaller blonde huffed yanking at them with a scowl which if you'd been there you'd have commented was near identical to leahs own.

"oh mila." leah chuckled, relief flooding her body replaced quickly with amusement. "you have boots! lets go find them you monkey." the blonde laughed, scooping up her daughter and tossing her over her shoulder.

~

"mama!" you looked away from the interviewer at the familiar scream, hiding a laugh at the way your wife grabbed the back of your daughters top trying to restrain her, other hand barely holding together her own bag as well as mila's, lia hurrying over to lend a hand.

"thats us pretty much done anyway." the interviewer smiled kindly, nodding for you to go as you thanked them and shook hands, standing up and heading over to where a small riot had taken place as mila's aunties all fought over who got a hug first.

"excuse me i think i take priority." you called out over the squabbling, leah almost taken to the floor by the force in which your daughter pulled to get to you, letting go and catching her footing as a small body slammed into your legs.

"mama you weren't there when i woke up." mila frowned as you smiled and smoothed her creased eyebrows out with your thumb, squatted down to be at her level.

"i know, but remember i told you i had to come to work early? to take pictures." you poked her stomach a few times eliciting a giggle. "oh yeah. hey look! i match mummy." mila perked back up, taking a step back and doing a spin.

"you didn't want to match me?" you gasped in mock offence, mila shaking her head with a cheeky smile and running back to leah before you could grab her.

"no i'm mummys little gunner."

~

it was around an hour later when the day took a turn, mila having been passed around between your teammates as you and leah fulfilled your interviews and commitments.

you were doing a few tiktoks with laia for barclays when you were interrupted by your best friend, whispering something to one of the producers who frowned but nodded.

"williamson, you're needed. can someone go find pelova to take her place please?"

confused you stepped aside, alessia grabbing your hand without another word and tugging you away. "where are we going?" you questioned with a frown. "we have a problem." the blonde sighed, refusing to elaborate much more as she pulled you out of the main room.

"wait is it mila? is she hurt? sick? do we need an ambulance?" you began to panic as you were pulled toward the change rooms. "yes, no, no, not yet." alessia answered which didn't help ease your anxiety.

"not yet!" you exclaimed though as the taller girl pulled you into the change rooms and you saw the sight in front of you, suddenly things all made sense.

"oh my god."

"just like mummy!" mila cheered, sat on the bench on lia's lap with a horrendously self cut attempt at a fringe, safety scissors confiscated and a very guilty looking kyra hovering about nearby.

"what. happened." you exhaled unable to drag your gaze away from your daughters new haircut.

"she was with kyra and i and we were colouring. then she asked for some scissors and we assumed she was going to cut out the picture from her book to show you and leah and well we looked away for like one minute and..." lia began to explain, trailing off gesturing to mila's forehead and her new 'bangs'.

"mila.." you exhaled, dragging your hands down your face as alessia rubbed your back gently. "mummy got a hair cut, so i got a hair cut." the four year old beamed clearly very proud of herself.

"has leah seen-" "nope."

though you may have jinxed it as footsteps sounded and the woman i question arrived, mila's bag in hand ready to tell the pair of you that you were all free to head to lunch.

"leah. it was an accident love, breathe." you grabbed your wifes arms watching her face change as she took in mila's haircut and the scissors sitting idly by, mouth opening and closing as she looked around the room.

"kyra. we need to go outside...for a little chat." leah warned, voice calm and face anything but as she didn't even wait for someone to explain before deciding who she was blaming for this.

"leah-" the girl couldn't even get a word out before she sprinted off, your wife quick to follow her as mila just giggled and you sighed, alessia's hand coming to sit on her shoulder.

"now i think we might need that ambulance."

[n0tamused]

Hello! may i request a dr ratio fic where he randomly turns into an owl and now reader has to find a way to turn him back into a human, while reader finds a way, they take care of dr. owltio! its basically your typical "oh no my s/o turns into something and now i have to deal w it!" fanfic😭🙏 Ive seen silly tiktoks of veritas being an owl bc it resembles him so well🥹💗

A/n: I love those tiktoks sm bro 😭 They're so cute, I went to work on this as soon as I could. I hope I did this prompt justice, enjoy!

Contents: Veritas Ratio x GN! Reader, fluff, Owltio!

Words: 2465

“Quit your back talking” you scold, voice sharp as you whip around to glare at the bird on the table. Poised even in this fragile form, the big owl straightened its back, standing a little taller and letting out an accusatory ‘whooo’ at you. Despite the mild irritation you felt, from almost hearing all he had to say in your mind in human tongue from his irritation of being turned into this, you couldn’t help the way your face crumbled into a grin. Lifting a hand to rub the bridge of your nose, you take a moment to simply breathe and bask in the irony of the situation you find yourself in. Cackling you shook your head, trying to hide your amusement behind your hand, but the sound already reached the bird’s ears and he was already sauntering over to the edge of the desk as if to scold you for ‘not taking this seriously enough’. 

More coos came from him as you offered no response, but this time much less sharp but more defeated as his big wings stood half outstretched - it’s not everyday one gets turned into an animal, and Veritas was certainly not adapting swiftly to the clumsy yet deadly feet of this avian. His walk was awkward as he shuffled across the desk, his feathery back now turned to you as he looked for something.

Audibly letting out a soft ‘awh’, you approach the desk again, muttering an apology to him. Your words are met with his head spinning around to look at you 180 degrees, cartoonishly funny and beyond amusing. “I’m sorry alright.. No need to go  sulking about. Doubt you’d be able to do much like this anyway, and goodness knows I’d burn in hell if I just left you- leaving you like this'' you cackle a little as you reach out to rub the top of his head. He ducks away, so you leave him be. “I will help you out, okay? We’re in this together, but you’ll have to be a little more cooperative with me, Veritas”

He looks at you, clicking his little beak as he swishes his way to another corner of the desk, flapping his wings, and only then do you realize just how hot it was in the room, a warm breath of air making the layers of clothes stick to you like second skin. It must be no better for him with all those feathers. “Lucky you, I’m off work for the rest of the day. How about we get you a bath, hm?”

 Just like before, the owl’s head turned around, but this time its big eyes looked at you in a way they appeared to praise you for such a fantastic idea. Ever the person to not ask for help, had you not asked, the owl would have stayed here to swelter in the heat. “You like that, hm?” you coo at him, unable to hold back the mirth you found in the way he behaved - it is still a mystery for how long he’ll stay in this form, so it’s best to enjoy every moment while you could.

“Sometimes I wonder if you love those baths more than you even love me” you say out loud, holding your arm outstretched so the big bird can hop onto your forearm, you see it’s feathery ears perking, and another angry 'hooooo' went flying out from him, his chest puffing out in defense, scolding you for even posing such a stupid statement while he can’t verbally refute it. Sure, the doctor never directly spoke of his affections for you, but it should be without a doubt he favors you in more ways than one, and he definitely loves you more than his baths.

Nonetheless, you respond to his noise with a small smile as you carry him to the bathroom, a low hum coming forth from your throat as the silence due to the absence of his voice feels odd. You never realized before how much his voice filled your every day, specifically at home, although the silence between the two of you as you relaxed or went about your own thing wasn’t rare either. 

As the water began to fill the tub, Veritas found his purchase on one edge, watching as the water swirled inside, cool and radiating, tempting him to simply hop in right away. Not wanting to risk him drowning, you stopped the water from filling the tub whole, leaving enough water for him to sit comfortably in. “You need help getting in?” you asked as you looked at the big owl who, without a word(well, sound), hopped into the water, big wings spreading across as much as the tub would allow them to go. Water engulfed him from all sides as he splashed and dove his head swiftly underneath the water before coming up to shake the water off his face. Chuckling, you crouched down and rested your arms on the edge, one arm extending lower so the fingers could touch the water and flick some water on your beloved lover-turned-bird.

“WHOO” he says, a light gurgle in his howl as water splashed into his beak, prompting him to give a fast shake of his head. Now soaked and finally cool, he let his wings simply hang in the water with only his head bobbing on the water’s surface. It was like a purr, his next sound, a soft little ‘huuuu’ as he let his big eyes fall shut as the coolness licked up his feathers.

“I suppose this will have to become the new routine, until we can get you to turn back, that is” you comment as you look around for that one thing you never saw Ratio’s bath go without. The little duck floatie wasn’t too far off, standing on one of the shelves beside the bathtub, watching over the precious bathtub like a little guard before you retrieved it to sit beside Veritas. He looked at the duckie, which looked much bigger than he remembered, then up at you, then back at the duckie’s googly eyes. A sigh followed as the bird went back to cleaning himself off, his tail flicking back and forth, spraying water at you. 

Holding up your hand over your face in a frail attempt to shield yourself didn’t deter Veritas from subtly (but not so subtly) trying to splash you with the cool water. From the flap of his wings and down to the swish of his big tail, the water came flying at you. You laugh after the initial splash hits you, in disbelief at his action but no less happy to see it happen. And in retaliation, you cup your hand in the water and splash him back. “Don’t spray your water at me, you reek, you big bird!” you tease, earning a rather alarmed look from the bird before he dove down under the surface, fluffing his feathers as he came onto the surface to ruffle them. He yelled at you, bopping over to where you were and nudged at your hand. 

“You want me to wash you?” you guessed, and you guessed right as the next cry was more urgent as he extended one clawed leg up to grab around your fingers and draw you in. “Oh, yes, we can’t have you stinking up the place, no sir. If we do, then who’s to say we won’t have someone knocking on our doors to ask about the smell” you keep up your playful demeanor, fully knowing you will earn another earful from Veritas once his beak is turned back to human mouth. You giggle nonetheless, reaching your hand to begin and rub into his feathers. “I should go get you some bird-safe soap too, I don’t want to risk it with the soap we have” You tell him, and he seems understanding enough, a soft coo meeting your ears as a reply.

So many thoughts swirled in your head as you thought of the way you carefully had to handle his wings and the ways to help him turn back to his normal self. Ideas fell short from reality, sending you back to square one. Bringing this situation up to some of the higher ups at the Intelligentsia Guild seemed as the most plausible idea, while simultaneously being something that would most likely earn dislike from your lover here. While you took time to think of possible ways to help him, you could only hope that prolonged transformation like this had no dire side effects.

Three days flew by quickly. Books piled up on your desk and around the house, and the Guild has provided quite some solutions to your little problem - they were eager to get the genius back in their midst, but you only wanted to get Veritas out of this form. 

The weird food concoctions you had to feed the poor man(bird) made you feel sick, but he took it like a champion, only sighing, inhaling and then eating the food. Sometimes he’d fly around the rooms to get his exercise in, or to distract himself from the horrid tasting food; sometimes he’d wait for you around the kitchen to give him a sweeter tasting thing to cleanse his pallet, and other times he’d simply nap. You found out he slept a lot during the day, reminding you of cats. Your own sleeping schedule had gone to ruins and that was no fault of his - you simply wanted to help him where you could and spend time with him, entertaining him or feeding him. 

Yet, you couldn’t deny that the poor sleep has quickly caught up to you as you stifle another yawn. Now it was your time to relax in the bath, and the water did wonders to your muscles and mind alike. Suds slid down your neck and dipped back into the water as you sat down the scrubby sponge down aside in favor of resting, submerged up to the chin in the bubbly water.

No wonder he liked baths so much, you think, mind blanking otherwise. A distant flutter barely made your mind perk, until the small clink of claws on the bath’s edge had you flinching. 

“Veritas!- Didn’t I say that you should at least chirp if you fly towards me” With a small sigh you relax again. For all his big wings, he still flew as silently as the breath of the breeze.  You’d never get used to it. “Do you need anything, I'm afraid I can't help you right away, I’m a bit busy now” you mutter, your lower lip touching the water before you tilt your head up at him. His owlish eyes looked at the water, then at you, before he performed a small hop, landing on your knees that barely touched the surface of the water. “Want to join me, huh..? You know, you really shouldn’t, this isn’t that bird shampoo I bought for you” Veritas puffs his feathers in defiance, noting how the water was now deep, but with you a breath away, he let himself fall in. The suds rising and sticking to his feathers.  He cooed and squawked, flapping his wings and splashing the water. 

You quickly dipped your hands underneath, finding his clawed feet and offering him purchase so he doesn’t struggle, even if his big wings did a great job at keeping him afloat. There could never be a lack of caution, 

“Ratioooo” you whined, frowning and preparing to give him an earful before the weight in your hands grew tenfold, a sudden flicker and a flash of light blinding you to what actually happened in that fragment of a moment. Gasping you felt some water splash into your nose and mouth, the chemical taste of soap making your frown and hiss while the water being splashed over the floor alarmed you to no end.

“Ow-!” you winced, pulling your hands back from underneath the weight. Coughing resonated in the room, and this time it didn’t come from you.

“Veritas!?” Without even seeing him you recognized him, the mere sound of his coughs being enough to make your heart spring with mirth and a sense of triumph. You pushed back, the bathtub suddenly becoming too crowded, and looked up at him. Water dripped down his body, and before he could reply, his knee caught onto the slippery side of the tub, gravity pulling him down into the water and over you. Water splashed more, but you could only open your arms to catch him.

One had slipped underneath you, holding your upper back while the other held onto the edge of the tub to keep himself from falling any lower. He cleared his throat, blinking the water from his eyes. As you cheered his name and held him so closely, he couldn’t help but feel embarrassed, his cheeks struggling to fight the blush from rising up to them. Despite the initial shock and a wave of frustration that the soapy water caused by irritating his eyes, he couldn’t help but bask in the pure mirth you oozed. A childish joy that could stifle even his irritation - especially his. 

“VERITAS!” You cheered, all fatigue leaving your body as you held him again, your fingers not meeting the feathers but smooth and wet skin of his muscled back. His wet hair stuck to his forehead and a few stray hairs poked at his eyelids until he pushed his hair back. His mind reeled at the sudden loss of his much lighter form, and far more complicated one. Although he yearned to be human again for all the time he spent in his owl form, now he found it weird to feel fingers at the ends of his arms again. But what he had missed the most was this hold around his shoulders. 

“IT WORKED! You’re back, finally!” Your voice rang in his ears, reminding him of the ugly taste on his tongue and the shame he felt when you brought him into the HQ of the Guild, him perched on your shoulder and standing taller than the others - as always. 

“I told you- I-” he sputtered, but only groaned as words failed to form on his tongue. Has he gone mute from only cooing and howling?  “Pftt..” he chuckled, low and raspy as he pushed himself back, reeling you back with him to properly sit in the bath. He watched you lean back for only a few moments, your big smile forming the apples of your cheeks while your wet palm cupped his cheek. It made his breath hitch, and he’d be damned to admit, but he was sure his heart skipped a beat as well. Not wasting another moment, he pulled your back into his embrace, his face hidden away over your shoulder.

“You’re enjoying this far too much” Veritas spoke, even as a smile stretched across his features.

Ⓒ n0tamused. Do not repost, translate, edit, and/or copy any of my works. Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated.

[gyeomsweetgyeom]

⋆⭒˚.⋆smudged kisses⋆⭒˚.⋆

(cw: f!reader, tiktok trend)

You looked at your reflection in the small mirror on fratboy!Jaehyun's desk, bought especially for you. Your makeup was looking good, good blush placement, no separating foundation, and no creasing under your eyes. All you were missing was your lipstick.

You turned in your chair, "okay, I'm ready, are you?"

Jaehyun looked up from his phone with furrowed brows, "what is it again?"

You sigh with a roll of your eyes, you'd explained countless times and even showed him the videos you wanted to emanate. "It's a TikTok trend! I'm going to put on my lipstick, but uh oh! I smudge it and then you use you thumb to swipe it away- gently. I pan the camera to you and you have lipstick marks all over your face. Make sense?" You explain while you show him one of the videos you had saved.

His eyes leave your screen with a smirk, "so we get to kiss?"

You shove his shoulder, "you act like we don't kiss everyday. Anyway, do you get it now?"

He nods with a very smug smile, "It's crystal clear, baby."

You use your phone camera to put on your lipstick and than cup Jaehyun's cheeks to begin pressing the bright red lipstick all over his face.

He laughed, his breath fanning over your face with every giggle and laugh that escaped him. You pressed kissed over his cheeks, his nose, on his eyelids, his chin, above his mouth, and his forehead. You pulled away to assess your work and smiled affectionately, his cheeks were red from the lipstick but also his flushed cheeks. "Ready, my love?"

He nods, and you start the video with the music filtering through the speakers of your phone. One hand holds your phone and the other holds your lipstick as you drag it over your bottom lip.

When the lipstick "accidentally" drags outside your lips, Jaehyun's thumb appears and wipes it away gently. You pan the camera over to him and he smiles at you adoringly before leaning forward to press his lips to yours, the only spot left on his face with no traces of your red lipstick.

He pressed a series of pecks against your lips which makes you laugh against his mouth. The last thing the camera sees before you drop your phone is Jaehyun smiling before pressing his lips against yours in a longer kiss with his hand cupping your cheek. You were sure whoever saw the video could guess that the kiss they saw was not as short as the others.

[kenntolog]

Hiiiii I love love lovee your loser gf! Series

Can I please request a loser gf! who is a new nurse and she's kind of nervous for her first shift at the hospital and cool bf sukuna gives her the confidence yk

Thank youuuu!!

𝝑𝝔 an: look i have lotsa respect for nurses, its crazy out there for them too man. i was barely able to get through that course alive😭😭 but i am just a weakling so anyways, i will not write any more nurse reader requests tho!! i dont intend on specifying the characters’ degrees anyway. not proofread. enjoy <33

cool boyfriend sukuna is on his way to surprise visit you on your first shift as a nurse after his basketball practice, when the familiar ringtone of his phone fills his ear, a smirk appearing on his lips when he sees your name on his screen.

“what’s up, loser? kill anyone yet?”

“that’s not funny, ‘kunaa~” you say, despair evident in your slightly whiny tone that he likes to tease you about. “i’ve been here for a few hours at most and i’ve talked to more people than i’ve ever done in my life.”

“that’s a crazy statement. you sure you’re not exaggerating?” he probes once again, already imagining your exasperated expression as you rub your forehead in distress.

“no! ugh—” you sigh out, your voice becoming a little shaky. sukuna tenses in his seat, the smirk disappearing immediately as he listens in for any more signs of your nervousness. “i-i don’t think i can do this.”

he clicks his tongue, looking for a parking spot near your hospital, “hold on, baby, d’you think you can come out for a little bit? i think you need some air.”

you mumble out a weak ‘okay’, but don’t end the call which is better than nothing. sukuna quickly gets out of the car and strides to the entrance, patiently waiting for you to walk out. not realising that he’s actually visiting you and is currently standing just a little bit farther from the entry, you slowly step out and start slowly pacing around, still breathing into the phone. it seems to him, that somehow it calms you, listening to him breathing and doing it along with him.

a small smile appears on his lips when he eventually sees you, steps halting as he speaks into his phone again.

“dark red? that’s a nice choice.” he compliments with an appreciative tone, referring to the colour of your scrubs that you hadn’t shown him beforehand.

“thank you, suku— wait,” he watches you still in your spot for a second before you start looking around haphazardly, your voice getting loud enough for him to hear without the phone as soon as you notice him. “sukuna!”

you quickly run to him, arms spread out readily to wrap around his middle, and bury your face in his chest while he pets the top of your head, not caring about the neat hairstyle you made before.

“you good?”

it’s a simple question and his tone doesn’t indicate how worried he is actually. however, one look into his expressive eyes and you can clearly understand that he is full of care and love and affection. you peck his chest and look up at him, bottom lip jutting out in a cute pout and watery eyes trained on his as he cups your jaw.

“i don’t think i’m fit for this,” you sniffle, hiding yourself in his palm. “it’s so quick and busy and i—”

“and you’re just not used to this.”

sukuna watches you frown, begrudgingly nodding in agreement as he nods along too, continuing.

“and you’re nervous, s’okay.”

you nod again, rubbing your eyes a little too roughly for his liking.

“you’ve come a long way, loser, don’t back out of this now just ‘cause of some pressure. you can take it.”

exhaling shakily, you hug sukuna once again, whining some incoherent words into his chest, that probably aren’t even words and just a way for you to let go of the tension. sukuna ruffles your hair and kisses the top of your head, pulling away abruptly when an ambulance wheels by your side, it’s siren making you shudder.

“go and do what you need to do. don’t think about anything else, loser, and certainly don’t think about me.”

his insides melt at the soft smile that spreads on your face at his words and he leans in to quickly kiss your lips, pushing your body away simultaneously.

“i will pick you up when you’re done.”

“bye, kuna!”

he watches you run towards the entrance again, where a woman, seemingly older than you and probably the head nurse, starts scolding you, an amused chuckle escaping him at the sight of your embarrassed expression.

[the-modern-typewriter]

I really like your terrifying villains. I don’t know if you’ve done something like this before, but if you want could you write a piece with the villain giving the protagonist a head start to run away from them?

The protagonist rounded the corner and - froze. They didn't breathe. It was futile to think that the villain hadn't spotted them, the protagonist was directly in their line of sight, but the protagonist still prayed for a miracle.

The villain paused. Their head tilted, the only vague emotion they gave away at seeing the protagonist so unexpectedly in their compound.

The protagonist wet their cracked, dry lips.

The villain smiled slow. "Hello, thief."

Mute with horror, the protagonist said nothing. The villain inadvertently blocked the path the protagonist had taken to sneak inside in the first place. What other exits were there? Front door. That would be guarded. Maybe there was somewhere they could hunker down and burrow and hide? Not if they couldn't lose the villain.

"Would you like a head start?" the villain asked, after a beat. "For the running. People do like to run when they see me. Screaming is optional - could be fun though!"

The protagonist's stomach lurched. "Why would you give me a head start?" It came out hoarse.

"Well, it's not free." The villain's head tilted the other way, unnerving attention trained on the protagonist as surely as the barrel of a gun. "You have an option of two prices. One will give you a five minute head start. The other will give you a fifteen minute head start. But I'm not going to tell you which is which. Would you like to hear them?"

The protagonist was fast. They could do a lot with five minutes. Even five minutes would let them slip past the villain and sprint. 15 minutes was better. They could be clear of the building and on the grounds by then!

The villain raised their eyebrows when the protagonist once again said nothing. The protagonist quickly nodded.

The villain's smile broadened and they shifted their weight, getting comfortable where they stood.

"Option 1," they said. "You give me back that stolen prize you have tucked away in your pocket."

That was probably the 15 minute option. Mild mercy for a theft returned. Or, at least, an execution stayed for a more leisurely hunt.

They could come back. Try the theft again. Who were they kidding?

"And option 2?" Their heart hammered.

"Kiss me."

...it was the last thing that the protagonist expected. Their eyes widened. "Excuse me?"

"Come here and kiss me. Then I'll give you a head start to run."

"Do you have some kind of deadly poison coating on your mouth?"

"You'll have to assess the risks for yourself."

The kiss was the obvious choice. Too obvious. Was the villain counting on them being too prideful to go for it? Too humiliated by the desperation of the act? Or was that the trap?

The protagonist's gaze darted to the villain's mouth. It was a nice mouth for a decidedly not-nice person. Its cruelty was terribly softened by how often the villain smiled amused amidst their monstrosities.

Maybe the villain would kill them if they were bold enough to risk getting that close. Punish them worse later for taking such intimate liberty.

The poison coating definitely seemed possible. They should not discount the poison coating. Or some other nightmarish toxin.

"Tick tock," the villain said softly. "You have thirty seconds to decide, little mouse."

Maybe the villain would grab their prize back anyway if the protagonist was stupid enough to get close.

It couldn't just be a kiss. There had to be some kind of catch.

But if the villain had their prize back, there would be nothing to stop them from continuing their plans, and precious little left to save anyone who got in their way.

The protagonist swore quietly, took a steadying breath, and crossed the hallway to the villain.

The villain merely radiated the same placid amusement as before, holding still, as the protagonist hesitated just out of touching distance. Their gaze flicked over the villain's mouth again. It was so much better than looking at those eyes.

The villain held out a hand for their prize. Even the small shift was enough to make the protagonist flinch.

They imagined venus fly traps. They imagined snakes coiled in the grass. All manner of ambush predator.

They whimpered, despite themselves, very quietly in the back of their throat.

Then they leaned in and kissed the villain.

They'd meant it to be short and chaste but the villain's arm coiled around them lightning fast, holding them close as they deepened the kiss.

The protagonist hadn't somehow expected them to be a good kisser. Maybe there was some kind of slow-release paralytic to explain the way that the protagonist's knees went jellied? Some vicious thing to explain why their mind went so completely blank.

When the villain eventually pulled away, they were both breathless.

The protagonist felt like someone had scraped open something cavernous and hungry inside them. They swayed in the gentle steadying curve of the villain's arm. Their lips gave an ominous tingle. They met those clever, world-ending eyes.

"Run, run, run my little mouse," the villain whispered. "Because ready or not here I come."

The protagonist checked their inside jacket pocket in numb autopilot. Still there. Their prize was still there.

Now they just had to escape. Survive.

They ran.

[based-bobcat]

Remember when Batman used to solve regular murders? Remember when Batman was fallible and could be beaten by a gunshot?

DC's writers don't.

I don't know if it's because writers only really write for trades more, but ever since new 52 every writer wants to be the O'Neil/Morrison and make it more epic than the last. I've lost count how many fucking times Gotham has been taken over and/or destroyed these last 5 years, but the fact that I lost count says something. There have been no civilian characters introduced since Tamaki's promising, but kind of mediocre, go at TEC.

They take his money away 'to go back to his roots' (laughable as Bruce has never been without his fortune), and sure you finally get him interacting with regular joes again, only for it not even mattering since he's gotten gear stashed everywhere anyway, not to mention that the next writer to throw it all into the garbage like a meal they don't like.

They reveal Batman's identity as if they're handing out pamphlets for a local political party; Including to Gordon, to Penguin, to Harvey Dent, to fucking Joker, but there is no consequence to that since Bruce's out-of-mask life isn't even a thing that exists anymore. When was the last time he interacted with someone who didn't end up clashing with/meeting with Batman? I sure as fuck can't remember it.

I had hope for Zdarsky's run, since his Daredevil run was a nice street-level romp. (At the beginning anyway, christ did he lose the plot in the end) but he writes stuff like;

That's just sad. Joker and Batman are not Gods or powerful beings like Clark or J'onn.

Th-they're just normal men.

And at the same time you have more and more influences that come from Wayne Family Adventures, which I like don't get me wrong, but these watered down fanficified versions of the Batfam is not what I want to read about when I open up a comic book. Just try reading Taylor's Nightwing without falling asleep and you'll get me.

I like these kinds of things as fan-art or fun covers, but not in my mainline comics.

The Batfamily used to be made up of people with the same goals, but with different approaches, ideals and moral boundaries. Which caused a lot of friction. (Barb and Bruce really, REALLY did not like each other during the early 2000s and that's putting it mildly. And they were co-parenting a suicidal gremlin at that time) They all respected each other, sure, but I can't see any of the family even slightly considering moving in with Bruce. Especially Dick, Barbara and Steph.

All this to say that I'm a boomer and miss the old days.

[theorphicangel]

bookshop owner!reader with tattoo artist!suguru is actually brainrotting my mind.

coincidentally, the two stores are directly opposite each other and you can’t help but be drawn to the simple tattoo parlour across.

in bold, the name of the parlour stands above, clean and glistening windows with italic writing promoting to customers. if you squint you can spot artworks displayed in the window, even from afar you can tell how detailed and professional they are.

you’ve never been one for tattoos, your excuse being that you have a low pain tolerance for getting them. but in reality? you’re scared of the idea of a tattoo being permanent , the idea that you’ll get a tattoo you’ll regret or the design will come out ugly or that it’ll—

“do you need help with that?”

a silky voice interrupts your thoughts as you stood staring at the the shop with a cardboard box in your hand. the box contained one of the last piles of books for the store, new arrivals were to come in the next few weeks finally filling up the shelves.

a tall, long raven haired man stands besides you with nothing more but a friendly smile on his face. he stands in a large dark blue sweater, a paper cup of coffee in his hands probably from the local cafe on the same street as you.

it takes you a few seconds to snap back into reality, noticing piercings on his bottom lip and eyebrow.

“I’m fine! thank you.”

“I can take that in for you or at least hold the door open.” the stranger suggests, raising a brow.

a shift appears in pit of your stomach — would it hurt to say yes?

“that would be great, actually.” you return a friendly smile.

as you make your way inside with the assistance of the coffee scented stranger, he begins to make conversation, helping you to the back rooms. “you interested in the tattoo shop across the road?”

you let out a huff, “oh no, not for me. tattoos seem…” you pause for a split second attempting to find the right word, “regretful.”

“how so?”

you ignore the teasing charm of the stranger and continue to give your explanation.

“well for one… it hurts like shit.” you start, “and what if the designs don’t come out the way you want or the person tattooing you messes up? now you’re stuck with this permanent mark on your body, it just seems like a waste of time and money to me anyways.” you huff, finally placing down the box amongst a pile of identical boxes.

the scent of old wood and dust fills your nostrils. The building was older than most among the street yet it still held some sort of modern look. cosy and comfortable was the atmosphere you had wanted to create for your bookstore and it took you ages to find this hidden gem, sending the deposit almost immediately.

the stranger lingers by the doorway of the back room of the store, his dark hair tied up into a man-bun yet it doesn’t fully restrain the few locks which seem to escape. he’s pretty, you muse, as he opens his mouth to speak again.

“maybe this would be some bad news for you but I actually own that tattoo parlour.”

he says it in a lighthearted tone but that doesn’t stop your stomach from dropping any harder.

“oh.”

awkward silence swiftly crashes into the two of you, your face heats up in record time.

you fucking idiot—

“it’s nice to meet you.” the stranger finally speaks, outstretching a hand and as he does so, his sweater rides up his arms a little where you see black ink begin to pattern across his skin.

“shit, m’ so—

“don’t worry about it, s’ not for everyone.” he smiles again with that friendly smile you saw outside. you shake his hand tentatively hoping that he wasn’t offended by your comments. his palm feels soft in yours, fitting into his perfectly. quickly you pull away before you get too absorbed in your thoughts.

“call me suguru.”

you repeat his name and for a second he swears there’s nothing but pure nectar in your voice.

in a reply you introduce yourself and a flash of white teeth come your way in a full grin. he tries out your name for the first time too, adding a compliment.

“I’ve been wondering when they were finally going to sell this building. ” he begins. “I think a bookstore is perfect for this place.”

your face heats up again and Suguru asks for a tour. the store isn’t fully ready yet but you’re hoping for an opening at the end of the month.

“I hope to get an invite.

“Of course, we’re practically neighbours, you’ll be the first to know the date.”

“glad to hear it.”

as he leaves, you wave him over to the other side of the street watching him open up his store.

for the first time in your journey you can’t help but feel a tiny spark inside of you that makes you feel excited for the change coming up ahead and in particular, getting to know this suguru more…

join my summer event here!

[muchosbesitos]

tengo tu foto

part two

part one here

pairing: photographer! fem reader x miguel o’hara

contents: more angst 💀

synopsis: the wedding day arrives but some new information comes to light

author’s note: included miguel’s pov since i kinda did leave things vague. thank y’all for the sweet comments & reblogs on the first part 🫶🏼

word count: 7.1k (…)

An imposter.

He was reminded of that fact every day, waking up in bed sheets that didn't belong to him next to a woman who he was sure wouldn't stay with him if she knew the truth. He was reminded of the fact when he got up, looking at his reflection in the mirror. Past all the similarities, even he could tell that he was a subpar replacement. But he'd be damned if he didn't at least make an attempt to try to perfect this persona.

His very atoms would defy the possibility of being in this room if it weren't for the bracelet that adorned his wrist. Warnings from his assistant echoed throughout his mind, the hologram appearing every day to alert him of the danger that continued with every single millisecond that passed. The instability of the universe and all the other things that he usually tuned out by the third minute before he shooed her away.

How long did he need to fake this for this place to finally start to feel like home?

He was a jagged piece in this puzzle, forcibly trying to push himself in to fit. Forcibly forging his way into this universe as if that would make him be a part of it. Forcing himself into a family that wasn't originally meant for him to enjoy. But he wouldn't stop until his puzzle piece eventually got damaged from how hard he was trying or until the puzzle itself would fall apart at the seams.

Late nights spent reviewing a digital case file, going through every minute detail of this man's life. What time he got up to use the bathroom at work, how many times, what kind of toothpaste he used. Anything and everything that he needed to become the perfect image of this Miguel O'Hara. He'd even spent nights working on his inflection when he spoke, every inch of him molded into the perfect image.

Was this all worth it? Putting this amount of work into the image of having a perfect life while simultaneously having that nagging worry in the back of his mind that it could just crumble into pieces? Doing all this with no regard towards what type of potential consequences this could bring?

The logical part of himself knew the answer clear as day—no. The instability of the universe was carefully woven by a thin line, and even just moving a speck of dust an inch where it didn't belong was enough to destroy the equilibrium. His selfishness could cost this universe grave consequences, consequences that could very well signify the end of this timeline. It was all about probability and educated estimates, though.

Then again, he had to remind himself that if he wasn't meant to do this then the opportunity wouldn't have appeared to him in a silver platter. He was reviewing some old case files at his office in HQ, monitoring a Morbius variant that stumbled into the wrong universe. Typical Friday evening activity. He had to will himself not to fall asleep standing up, gulping half of his body weight in coffee. His attention was pried away from the monitors when he heard an alarm go off.

One of his variants had died.

He itched to check the file, his responsibility to the Society at the backend of his mind in that moment. Just for a couple seconds. Morbius was sleeping, anyways. Not like he'd wake up in the couple seconds that he looked at the file. He opened up the summary of that Miguel's universe, the digitalized video on screen showing his variant getting shot. One of the more avoidable deaths, if he had to offer his opinion on it. Truly. All the gunmen were asking for was his wallet and valuables.

Not that he had any time to linger on the thought. He needed to get back to checking up on Morbius as soon as possible. Clicking on the details from the universe, he went every connection that his variant had. Pretty much the same that he did, a crappy relationship with his mother and an even shittier relationship with his 'father.' The only thing that did differ, was that this Miguel had managed to find some sort of family with his daughter. One of the things he'd found himself longing for, but would never be selfish to go after.

Much like any other personal relationship.

Leave the case alone.

It was a case that altered his judgement. He knew better than anyone to get involved in cases that would prove to be too personal. Technically there was nothing to address, considering that his variant wasn't anything special. It wasn't in his timeline to become a Spider-Man, ever. It was like just another simple civilian had died. He should treat it as such. Remove his personal feelings from this. Not interact. He could do that. He'd given so much for the Society already.

He didn't give himself the chance to think twice before entering the coordinates into his gizmo, tapping the teleportation button quickly before he thought better of it.

It had all been so simple. Almost like this was his calling. He'd managed to get to the crime scene before the authorities showed up, pocketing his variant's personal belongings as if they were his own.  As far as he was concerned, there was no actual proof of this corpse being Miguel O'Hara. Even if he wanted to go back, he couldn't. What would he even say to explain himself if the police were to show up? That this was all some sort of twisted fever dream? No. He needed to seize this opportunity.

He snuck around the streets of Nueva York, trying not to get caught carrying a body around. While he knew that the police wasn't exactly the brightest, even they wouldn't be able to look past this suspicious behavior. He needed to dispose the body somewhere it wouldn't be easily found. Last thing he needed was having the police come over to his house and find him standing there. But where? All the options in his brain sounded so cliché when he went over them.

Underground? As dumb as the police dogs were, he knew that even they would be able to identify the smell of rotting flesh.

Frame it as a suicide? No. The idiot had gotten himself shot in the chest trying to be a hero.

The Hudson? As far fetched as the idea seemed to be, it seemed to be the only logical answer. Maybe the fish would eat him alive and he wouldn't have to worry about this resurfacing in the future. Wishful thinking, he knew. But at least he was certain that it would take a couple years for this to get to light.

As comfortable as Miguel was in this universe, he made a point to go back to his universe when Gabriella and Xina weren't around. Just to see how it was doing. A part of him had expected it to fall apart at the seams without having Spider-Man arrived, but it seemed just the same. It was almost like he'd never left. Though, he wasn't sure why he'd thought that. Throughout his time as Spider-Man, he was constantly hearing retorts about how he failed to compare to the original Peter Parker that passed away. That he would never be able to carry the mantle.

To be completely honest, the idea of romance wasn't exactly one he was completely interested in when he first arrived. Being Spider-Man back in his universe proved time and time again that love just wasn't something that intertwined nicely with his routine. From the impending danger that they would constantly have to face to the long hours that he would spend on patrol. But there was no role of Spider-Man here for him to fulfill. Peter Parker was still swinging around in the streets, monitoring the streets.

His life was.. unfulfilling when he wasn't with Gabriella. Which happened to be the eight dreadful hours that he was stuck at Alchemax. "Hey, do you want to go on a date?" He'd read enough about Xina in Miguel's file to know that they were close friends, figuring this request wouldn't be too awkward. "What happened to that relationship you were in?" She asked, focusing on screwing in one of the bolts in the machine she was toying with. Relationship?

The only semblance of a relationship that Miguel saw from his variant was that photograph he'd tossed a couple weeks back. Overall, nothing that he seemed too important. While it seemed like a fun fling from the couple scenes he'd seen, it wouldn't go anywhere serious. "We broke up, our relationship became stale," he was surprised by how easy the lie had slipped out. Better than telling her that his variant had left you without a word before he took his place. Xina gave him a warning look, letting out a small sigh.

"Look, Miguel. You're one of the closest friends I have here and I'd rather not jeopardize it over some fleeting thing," Xina told him, setting down the screwdriver she had in hand. "It doesn't have to be a fleeting thing, I swear. Just give me a chance," he told her, handing her the next tool that she needed. He enjoyed spending time with her like this. It was simple. She knew when he needed to be alone and didn't prod for any extra conversation, a sense of silent understanding between the two. "Okay. One date."

"Don't worry, I get it. Just tell me when you plan on staying late at work and we can plan around it," she gave him the patience throughout countless missed date that he'd never received from his previous partners. Not only that, but Xina had managed to fit so perfectly in his little family, He could see the happiness in Gabriella's eyes when the two of them stood at the stands during her soccer matches, cheering louder than the other parents. He could see himself doing this for the long term. That one date led to them getting engaged a couple years later.

The wedding planning had been something he'd left up to Gabriella and Xina. Considering that if it was up to him, he would've preferred to just have an array of grey, black, and white. He accompanied her to a couple of the events, such as getting her dress fitted or picking out the wedding cake and food arrangements. Anything that would make this process less stressful for her. He could've sworn that he saw her falling asleep in the bathroom for five minutes before she went back to searching for flower arrangements.

Miguel knew he should've come up with an excuse when he finally clicked on your LinkedIn profile, recognizing your photo to the one he'd thrown all those years ago. Tell Xina that he didn't think the reviews were that good. That your reputation was complete garbage, even if he couldn't confirm that if she asked for some kind of evidence. But a part of him was curious enough to go through with it. You looked.. very average from your profile. Nothing too interesting on your social media.

Just a couple photos from a couple shoots you'd done and a couple selfies—nothing too captivating. And yet, you had this universe's version of himself wrapped around your finger. Pictures of the two of you took up the majority of the gallery on his old phone, with a picture of Gabriella here and there. He wanted to know why. But after sessions of advanced research, from going through the college you enrolled in to checking the video footage from a couple dates that you'd gone with this Miguel, he couldn't find anything.

He couldn't see himself making the same effort that this Miguel had made. At least not for someone he deemed so plain. Someone who clearly had no concept of time, either. He checked the time on his watch, watching each passing second that you weren't in the room. A full minute had passed until you stepped in the room, seemingly out of breath. If he had to guess by the way that your chest was heaving anyways. He could see that small flicker of recognition in your gaze, not that he could reciprocate it even if he wanted to.

Gross. He could see the bread crumbs you'd hastily tried to wipe off before stepping foot into the room, a couple lingering by the corners of your mouth. Maybe he was looking too hard into this. Xina didn't seem to notice anything and neither did Gabriella. Was he purposely looking for reasons to dislike you? To get some kind of validation that he was right in not even bothering to try to keep the facade going with you? No, that couldn't be the issue. He was treating you the same way that he would treat anyone else. Or at least, that's what he kept telling himself.

You tried to be discreet, he could tell at least that much. But your face completely betrayed the façade that you were trying to paint. The lingering glances combined with the tinge of anger and disbelief were painted across your face every time you looked at him. He could see that you were desperate to get some kind of recognition, that you hadn't just imagined the events prior to the accident. He wouldn't give in to it, though. His duty wasn't to reassure a stranger, it was to keep Gabriella and his fiancée happy.

"You have me confused with someone else." That was not on the list of things he thought you'd say. A part of him had expected you to grovel at his feet, to beg for some kind of explanation. He could see the mask of indifference threatening to slip with every second that he spent in the room, strangely wanting to test out just how long you would keep it up. "I'm sorry, seeing so many faces has made me lose track," he gave you a tight lipped smile, unable to help himself from making a petty remark.

Your lips twitched, almost like that fake smile you'd plastered was seconds away from melting away. You quickly schooled your expression back to normal, though. Impressive. You seemed determined not to let him know that he affected you. He almost had to admire you for that. He left the room without another word, following behind Xina and Gabriella. Surely, she would make the decision to pick out someone else after those weird displays you'd shown throughout the meeting. Or at least, he could only hope so.

"Well, she seemed nice," Xina told him when the three had made their way out of the building, her arm wrapped around his own. He held Gabriella's hand tightly, making sure that she was keeping pace up with them. "You didn't find her weird or anything like that?" Miguel asked her, an accusatory tone to his voice as he spoke. He was ready to explain how he'd come to that conclusion but Xina simply just looked at him, her brows furrowed.

"Do you know her or something? You seem very determined to find a reason to dislike her."

"No, I don't know her. All I'm saying is that she showed up late and when she did show up, she showed up with crumbs all over her shirt. And she made these weird comments," Miguel pointed out every single one of his complaints, opening the door for his two ladies when they arrived at the restaurant.

"Just give her a chance, Miguel. Her portfolio's not all that bad," Xina whispered as a hostess came over to greet them. She sounded exasperated. He couldn't blame her though, not when she'd spent these last few couple weeks going from place to place to sort out the last couple details for the ceremony. He shouldn't have been causing her more stress, he knew that. But yet.. he wanted to reassure her that they didn't have to stick with last resorts.

"You know I'd get another photographer, mamita. The best in the country if that's what you wanted," Miguel pulled her chair back, doing the same for Gabriella before going over to take a seat across from them. He was starting to sound irrational, pulling at any strings he could find. He wanted this less than you did, if that was somehow possible.

The conversation didn't go much further than that considering that Xina had started talking to Gabriella, asking how many of her friends had confirmed to go. Conversation about how the food was. Everything other than the meeting at the photography studio. Miguel didn’t want to risk pissing her off, eating his food and offering his insight on a couple topics that he knew of.

The first thing that you did upon getting back home was finally taking off that necklace, the weight of it suddenly becoming too much to bear. The one thing that differed from your plans was that you hadn't buried in the back of your cabinets, you ended up tossing it in the garbage disposal. The sounds of metal grinding echoed throughout your apartment, a couple pieces falling onto the sink. As if even the necklace was sticking to those last semblances of hope.

You really needed to get over him by now. Finding stupid metaphors in getting rid of a necklace wasn't doing you any favors.

Soon after that came removing the clothes from the back of your closet, throwing them in a box. You didn't spare a second to think about the sentimental value that each of these articles held, because you knew that if you did, you'd end up regretting your decision and you'd just end up hanging them back up again. The clothes themselves only took up about half the box, the other half was full of mementos that he'd gotten for you throughout the relationship. The Polaroid camera that ended up breaking after four uses.

A stuffed shark he'd gotten for you during a trip to the aquarium. Ticket stubs to a movie the two of you spent a majority of making out for. Notes that he'd written to you, describing everything that he couldn't bring himself to say. Anything and everything that served as a bitter reminder of what used to be. They were just material items, you knew that. But as you stood in front of the garbage dumpster, attempting not to gag at the rancid smell, a rush of memories came. You just needed to throw this away. Start getting rid of him from your life bits by bits.

You just had to see him one more time, in a couple months before he left your life once more. You hadn't talked to him since that day, not that he bothered to reach out anyways. You kept your conversations strictly reserved for Xina, going to her for some last minute confirmations and ideas that struck you at the middle of the night. Just one afternoon of having to see him. Not even a full day, just a couple hours. It couldn't be that hard, right?

You'd set up about 15 different alarms for the day of the wedding shoot, having already dozed through the first eight. You really wish you would've told Xina you just couldn't do the shoot, return her deposit. The last thing that you wanted to see was the man you loved getting married to someone else, looking at her the same way that he used to do to you. If not, even more adoringly. With a warmth that he only seemed to reserve for her and her alone. But you figured it wouldn't professional to cancel two hours before you had to show up.

With that thought in mind, you reluctantly got yourself out of bed and into the shower. The cold water offered a nice distraction, your focus on freezing your ass off instead of the ceremony. Why couldn't he have given you the basic decency of some closure? You scrubbed your body wash into your skin, almost hoping that if you scrubbed enough that the memories wouldn't be there anymore. That this would just be a normal wedding you're doing a shoot for. Why did he get to be happy after doing you so wrong?

After condemning you to a lifetime of missing his company. Scrub. For giving you that little slice of domesticity and understanding before ripping it away without giving you a chance to fight for it. Scrub. Scrub. You weren't sure when the warm tears streaking down your face started to mix in with the cold stream of the shower. It hurt. It hurt crying over someone who obviously didn't care. It hurt to still be in love with him. To even think about him. To not be able to hate him no matter how much you wanted to. At least that would be better than this meaningless longing.

You were jogging down the street to catch up to the subway, otherwise you'd have to wait about an hour for the others to come by before you landed on your butt. "What the-" You were cut off, looking over at the tree that mysteriously appeared right in front of you. That wasn't there before, was it? It didn't even look like one of the trees situated in Central Park. You looked around to see if anyone had noticed the sudden abnormality, but you were only met with cold indifference instead.

You were running late. The last thing you needed was for Miguel to think you were unreliable after the first encounter at your office. But.. your curiosity was peaked. You stepped closer to the tree, tentatively reaching out for it. Before your fingertips could even graze the surface of the bark, the tree glitched into a variation of different colors before turning into something else completely. A mailing box. There was no way that no one could've missed that, right?

And yet again, you weren't really sure why you were expecting a different reaction than the one you'd gotten earlier. You resumed jogging down the street, almost tripping over your camera equipment when you made your way down the stairs to the subway. Please. Please. Please. You were silently begging with a train, hoping that it wouldn't leave just yet. Your footsteps pounded against the concrete as you made the final stretch over to the train, a stark comparison to the others leisurely walking while scrolling through their phone.

"Train C is now departing," the automated voice called out, the doors starting to shut. You quickly ran over, knocking on the doors before they had the chance to shut completely. You gave the conductor your best pleading look when they turned to glare at you, seeing their resolve crumble within just a couple seconds. You stepped back, almost expecting for the train to take off but surprisingly, the doors opened. You stepped inside, getting your Metro card out from your pocket.

"Thank you," you whispered over to the conductor, tapping your card against the reader. Well, at least you still had enough money in your card for the ride.  "Don't let it happen again," they bit back, their tone almost guaranteeing that you would indeed try not to let shapeshifting trees distract you next time.

You took a seat at one of the available seats in the near back, taking a couple seconds to catch your breath after nearly running for a block. A couple people came in shortly after you, muttering their own apologies to the driver before sitting down on the remaining seats available. The train pulled out of the station, starting to make its designated route down the train tracks.

You tried not to think about one of the conversations you'd had with Miguel—a talk about what a wedding would look like between the two of you.

"You see yourself getting married with me?" You asked him, your fingers gently running through his hair. Piojitos, as he'd called them. Miguel closed his eyes, completely in a state of bliss as he leaned against your stomach. "Well, yeah. I thought it was pretty obvious by now," he told you, his fingers making small circles on your thigh. You felt a small shiver crawl up your spine at the sensation of his nails.

"It's not obvious until I see the ring."

"Touché. But yes, I do see myself getting married with you. Coming home to you, spending my afternoons with you and Gabriella."

"What would be your ideal wedding?"

He let out a small hum, considering the question as his movements on your thigh halted for a moment. "Well, I've already had my version of what I thought was my ideal wedding with Dana. We had this grand venue with a majority of her friends and a couple of my co-workers. And I still wasn't happy by the end of it. I loved her, obviously, but it still felt like a mistake."

"Anyways, this is all just a long way to say that I don't really care about the venue or what type of wedding it is, as long as it's with you," he finished up, his fingers resuming their movements on your bare thigh. "For the record, I also think that my ideal wedding would just to have you involved in it."

You scrolled through your phone as the train started to move, your camera equipment tucked away under your seat. The news from the day popped up on your screen and you weren't sure if it was the boredom that inclined you to click on it or if it was just a gut feeling telling you to do so. Either way, you did. You were met with the reports of the stock market, a couple robberies and kidnappings. The usual stuff. You got to the bottom of the news article, certain that your eyes were deceiving you.

Dead man found in the Hudson River—more on page 3.

The image shown underneath showed a corpse of a rotting man, flies sticking to the holes on his skin. It couldn't be him. But even so, you recognized that grey sweater that he'd worn more often than not during your dates. The grey sweater he lent you when you were cold coming back home from the park. It didn't make sense. Then again, nothing made sense. Trees were starting to appear places that they shouldn't be. Articles about your ex boyfriend being dead were being published. You pinched your arm in an attempt to wake up from this cruel dream.

Instead of getting awakened into some sort of fantasy land of your current reality, you were only left to stare at the nail indents on your arm. You saw him, you know you did. Miguel had the same name and everything. The same appearance, with a couple minor changes. But you couldn't deny who it was in that photograph. You were starting to drive yourself mad with every thought that ran in your head, almost missing the stop you had to get off on. How would you be able to face this Miguel after that article?

Well, it’s not like you had another option now.

Half of your interns had shown up by the time you got there, most of them busy at work with setting up the photo booth. Well, finishing with setting it up. You wouldn't be surprised if they showed up just an hour ahead of time just to maximize the time they had to impress you. You set down the coffees you'd gotten for them on one of the tables, watching as they all scrambled to get a cup. You couldn't exactly judge them if their pay was anything of what you had to endure. They took sips from their cups, all while simultaneously trying to arrange a low-lighting environment per Miguel's request.

You looked from a distance as a white limousine pulled up to the park, Xina's white dress trailing behind her as she walked. A man that you only recognized by pictures, Gabriel, stepped out of the car and walked over to help her with the train. Miguel walked next to Xina, their hands intertwined as they made their way into the venue. Gabriella walked over to you, taking a seat on one of the available chairs with her father's phone in her hand.

"I thought you might've stopped the wedding. Went up there like in the novelas and announced your true love for him," she noted, not even bothering to greet you first. Direct, just like her father. You took a seat next to her, letting out a small chuckle.

"Should you be watching novelas at this age?"

"They're very educational. Though I don't get how why the women get done so dirty and then continue to go back," one of the common issues you'd noted as well. There was one of a woman getting her dog ran over and she still married the bastard.

"Foolish notions of love. And it makes for good television," you gave a small shrug, looking over at the parking lot as more cars started to pull up. "But no, I wasn't planning on stopping your father's wedding. He deserves the chance to be happy."

Even if you were unsure that it was him. You couldn't back up any of the theories you had in mind, only being able to rationalize them with your gut instinct. And though you weren't a researcher like Miguel was, even you knew that wasn't enough to substantiate your claims. "Even if you're not happy?" Gabriella spoke up after a while, her brown eyes boring into your own. You hesitated on answering, your voice wavering as you spoke, "Yeah, even if I'm not happy. He deserves that much."

The image was still burned into the back of your mind, the striking similarity between the man that was just found and the one standing in front of you with a look of impatience. "What seems to the problem? Just take the picture, please," he grunted out after a couple more seconds, your finger hovering above the button. The flash of the camera followed after, a smile taking over the original look of irritation. It wasn't him, it couldn't be. It couldn't be that man from the article. Though the more that you thought about it, the more that the details lined up.

You'd tried to convince yourself that it was the years that had changed his demeanor, his mannerisms—along with everything that had originally attracted you to him. This version seemed to attempt to try to be like him, and while he succeeded for the most part, it just wasn't the same. You were certain Gabriella felt the same way. What other reason would there have been for her coming to you? She was seeking the same kind of reassurance that you were that this wasn't all just a fever dream.

But even so, what exactly could you do in this situation? Confronting him about it would do no good. He'd probably end up denying it and twisting a story to make you sound deranged—which wouldn't be that hard to do, admittedly. You couldn't go to the police either. They'd disregarded your concerns completely when you went through the whole ordeal of trying to file a missing persons report a couple years back and they'd probably end up doing it again.

You clicked on the button, working almost robotically. You'd already garnered enough attention earlier, not only from Miguel but from the interns that you'd brought to help you with managing the photo booth. Just click the button and get out of here. Just get through the rest of this afternoon without making a scene. You needed any good reviews you could get, given that less and less people actually required the need for a photographer. "Alright, all done," you announced after clicking the button for what seemed to be fifty times, getting almost angle known to you.

"Excuse me, I was wondering if I could talk to you for a second," Miguel's voice took you out of your current task, looking up to see him practically looming over you. You looked around to see if this was a conversation that involved Xina. Which it wasn't. "Sure, give me a few just to finish with this," you found yourself purposely taking longer to finish adjusting the settings of the camera before walking over to the secluded spot he'd been standing in.

The tension in the air felt palpable, your mind running at a thousand miles per minute. He couldn't tell what you'd been thinking. You were basically hiding your face behind that camera. And it's not like he knew you well enough to know your mannerisms. You tried to assure yourself of these facts as you followed him to a secluded area in the back of the venue. The two of you stood in silence until he cleared his throat.

"You know," It wasn't an accusation, but rather a statement. The way he'd said it made it sound like he was telling you that the sky was blue. A simple fact, a universally accepted truth. "Your poker face isn't as good as you think it is. Even I could tell that."

He was eerily calm, his arms folded across his chest before he gestured you to speak. Giving you the opportunity to ask any questions that you had in mind. It wasn't that you didn't have any. Thousands of them were currently running through your mind. But you were too overwhelmed by the situation to be able to actually format them into something. The one that you managed to get out was a simple, "Why?"

"Why?" he drawled out, his pointer finger tapping at his chin in thought. His tone wasn't mocking but rather.. like he was contemplating this answer as well.

The truth was, he could get into the whole spiel about how his childhood was just one disaster after the next, from growing up with a mother that turned a blind eye to the way that his father acted to getting his face slammed in a locker for attempting to correct one of his upperclassmen's work. "Because I'm selfish, nothing more to it."

But how could he not be?

He couldn't recall a time where he hadn't been living with a void inside of him, without feeling like he was missing something. He started off young, molding himself into the perfect child to get a semblance of his mother's approval. It was stupid, being jealous of other students in his class. Hearing their parents tell them how proud they were over some mediocre award that he easily got a couple years prior. But even so, the jealousy within him burned deep in his veins. He did everything right, didn't he?

He'd given up every aspect of being a child, spending his time reading through high school calculus books in the third grade instead of going out to ride on his bike the same way that others his age did. But that still wasn't enough to please. He wasn't enough to please his mother. Much less his father. Then came saving the city of New York under a mantle that he hadn't asked for. He couldn't please them either. A majority of the articles that came out focused on the negative aspects of his fights, how Peter Parker wouldn't have made that mistake. As if he didn't know that already.

And then Gabriella just had to look at him like was capable of holding the earth up with his pointer finger, look at him with such admiration. It was a look he'd grown used to seeing from people over the years—from those in panic in the streets of Nueva York and the colleagues that he'd once tried to fit in with. But this, it just felt completely different. He didn't even need to try to impress Gabriella. Just being her father and being there was enough to please her.

It was the one time where he wasn't seeking out for some kind of self fulfillment. It was the one time he felt fulfilled with just being himself. Of knowing that it was enough. Of knowing that he was able to be loved. Even if his brain had imprinted the fact he couldn't be after hearing it from people he looked up to. People he desperately sought acceptance from.

You'd expected something more to it, your brows furrowing in confusion. "You impersonated a version of yourself just because you're selfish?" You asked incredulously, disbelief evident in your voice. While he'd acted nothing like your Miguel, if the one thing that they had in common was that they wouldn't do something this reckless without having some other reason for it.

"I saw an opportunity and I took it. I'm not going to apologize for that," his voice came out cold, detached. Almost like a practiced response. You looked at him in disbelief, any argument dying in your throat. Not that it mattered. You'd doubt he care.

"If it counts for anything-"

"It doesn't," you cut him off before he could finish, his gaze narrowing as he looked over at you. Now he looked at you like you were the one in the wrong. The sheer audacity this man had was enough to make you debate on doing a wedding shoot ever again.

Regardless, he decided to continue anyways, "He loved you. Though I can't really understand why, he did. I'm sorry that you didn't get the closure that you needed so long ago."

"I thought you had nothing to apologize for. With your selfishness and all."

"I'm not apologizing for what I did. I'm apologizing for the fact that you just happened to get caught in the crossfire."

The ground shook with an overwhelming intensity, a loud buzzing noise reverberating throughout the venue. "The sky's falling!" Almost like it was a stolen segment from Chicken Little, many of the guests start to scream that out as they started to run away. Sure enough, the sky itself to be defying every rule of gravity as it started to collapse. Was there any merit to running away? Just for that bit of reassurance of knowing that some kind of last attempt was made before an inevitable end?

From the corner of your eye, you noticed Miguel taking Gabriella in her arms as he ran away with her. Xina almost looked.. disappointed that he hadn't bothered to include her before she fell into step with him, or tried to. She was practically sprinting down the grass to try to catch up with his long strides, her chest heaving from the exhilaration. You figured you might as well run too, if only to fall into sync with what the others were doing. What did running do when the world was essentially falling apart though.

"No, no!" Miguel's voice boomed through the field, making you turn around to face him. He looked helpless as Gabriella faded into dust, his hands reaching out for something that he couldn't just quite grasp. Her wails for help echoed through the air, begging for salvation. "Dad!"

It was the only emotion you'd seen from this Miguel, the agony in his features a sharp contrast to the usual look of indifference. He looked like his body was suddenly too heavy, his legs collapsing underneath him as he fell to his knees. He buried his head in his hands, his body shaking from the silent tears he was trying to desperately hide away from the rest of the guests. His selfishness had gotten him up to this point, you realized. You wondered if he would do it all over again or if he regretted the decision.

Portals opened out of thin area, multiple masked people appearing from them with a Spider-Man costume on. Well, if you had to guess. While some were the Spider-Man costumes that you'd grown up reading about in comics and seeing in memoriam documentaries about, a lot of them just seemed to be a variation of the original. They all talked amongst themselves, analyzing the environment before eventually deciding that it would be a failed attempt to try to save it. At least, that's what you managed to get from their hushed whispers.

The one who had a bathrobe lazily wrapped around his suit walked over to Miguel, placing his hand on his shoulder. Miguel tensed underneath the touch, looking up at the man with an expression that could only be described as pure agony. "I ruined it all, it's all my fault," you heard Miguel cry out, holding onto the other man like a lifeline. He couldn't get himself to stand up, no matter how much the other man attempted to do so. "Come on, Miguel, we need to go. We can't do anything else for this universe," the other man told him, rubbing his shoulder.

Was the cost of his happiness really worth all this? The time that he'd spent pretending just for it to end up shriveling away like a rotten fruit? As much as he wanted to feel guilty for essentially being the end of this universe, he couldn't. The time that he spent with Gabriella were some of the best moments that he'd ever had. Maybe he could try again. Find another variant of her and take her to his universe instead. To avoid these situations. If he pretended once, he could do it again. The thought didn't settle right with him, though.

She wasn't something to be easily replaced, much like he'd done with her father. The child had grown accustomed to having him around but she didn't love him with the same intensity that she'd loved her father. Almost like she subconsciously knew. He got up to his feet, wiping the tears streaming down his face with the back of his hand. Miguel looked over from his peripheral, your expression completely calm. Like you'd accepted the situation rather than fearing it. Maybe putting the effort into pretending to be with you wouldn't have been as bad as he thought. Maybe.

Alongside the bitter feeling of acceptance came the feelings of regret. You didn't regret loving Miguel with the intensity that you'd had. You didn't regret anything that had occurred throughout the relationship. What you did regret, however, was holding on to the foolish hope that he'd come back after these years. That the two of you could live a simple life together. You'd ended up with nothing, disappearing into dust like you were nothing but just another meaningless speck to count off.

With the amount of yelling you'd heard from those affected, you would've imagined that the process would be much more painful than it actually was. It was if one second you could feel your legs and the next, you suddenly lost sensation of the limbs. Before you were suddenly enveloped by darkness, the last thing that you saw was Miguel entering a portal to escape this crumbling universe without so much as a glance back. Leaving the same way he'd done all those years ago.

taglist🫶🏼: @yougavemeyourheartyouknow @lazyjellyfish300 @pxtched @nympholove @ifiwasaguybrickedup @nixinluv02 @lizaistewdelulu @swiftiegirliepop @1800-get-alife @cl3stevu @hardlystrictlystarwars @koffcoff @greensagephase @what-the-jams @reader-1290 @mcmiracles

[cloveroctobers]

DISTANCE — ARMANDO ARETAS [Summer Prompts]

A/N: I know I’m late to the game (like every thing in life lmao!) and I actually got around to watching bad boys FL + ride or die and am I folding for another fine ass man? Absolutely. So here’s me dipping my toe in writing for Mr. Armando 😏 Hopefully we don’t flop! My plan is to just slide into this although the heatwave is frying tf out of my brain so we’ll see how this turns out. Anyways, happy reading!

WARNINGS: established past with reader! Some toxicity + language ofc & slightly angsty? I’ve had experience with a Pisces man before so I know what y’all are 👀!!

PROMPTS ARE FROM HERE + HERE & I’m using: “move, you’re on my side of the couch.” + Doing some outdoor thing like watering plants shirtless and the neighbor ogling

<- read my previous summer anthology writings here.

.˙꩜°˖:*࿔ ☼ ࿔*:˖°꩜˙. .˙꩜°˖:*࿔ ☼ ࿔*:˖°꩜˙. .˙꩜°˖:*࿔ ☼ ࿔*

~PANAMA, four months after R.O.D…]

The chaise part to your three-piece sectional was providing great comfort to the lower half of your body. You’re stretched out, the back of your hand pats at the specs of sweat that formed against your forehead after being outside for only ten minutes. If the fatigue didn’t hit you so fast, you would have carried on to the kitchen (for some water) thats to the right of the living room and it really wasn’t far.

However you knew how to listen to your body.

And your body said you needed to sit that ass down to prepare for the thunder that was rumbling.

Considering that you did overtime last night, those hours had your legs, feet, and even your ass sore from all that standing but yet you still found yourself waking up early to water your plants out on the balcony. That Panama heat told your ass pretty quickly and this is why you’re laid out now trying to catch your breath.

You were born in Panama City but lived in Mexico while also traveling back and forth to Tallahassee where your family resided. That went on up until you reached twenty-four while always keeping that passport stamped thanks to your job. It was something you aways wanted, not being confined to one space but at one point in your life in Mexico City you were completely fine staying put.

“move, you’re on my side of the couch.” A kick to the underside of your foot is followed right after those words, which gets you to pay attention to something other than burning to a crisp.

Blinking, your eyes settle on your long term friend? Lover? Situationship? He’s standing off to the side of the couch, shirt draped across his bare shoulder but you keep your eyes on his face.

“Oh, I’m sorry…did you pay for this couch?” You question as you point to the object you’re comfortable on.

You almost forgot that he was still here. He came to you at a late hour like shit was all sweet. It’s been awhile since the two of you last held a conversation, you been left Mexico City a few years back being exhausted with Armando and his mother’s mind games and it wasn’t on the best of terms. Although you tried your best to cut Armando off, you aways knew that he would be able to find you and that he would also always find some way to get back to you.

Traveling all over Panama four years ago to start over didn’t exactly feel like that. There were a few moments where you tried to get under to get over but somehow that still left you feeling empty or ghosted which let you know it always came back to Armando. See a man who had pull like that should always be a red flag but unfortunately for you, you got to see what was beyond surface level.

Which is why you let him in again, (despite horns going off in your head) learning more about the kind of shit he got into. None of it surprised you but it also made you want to knock some sense into him. Last you knew Armando was locked up (the way you cussed him out when you accepted the call, he wouldn’t forget!) and you knew the law would never free him that quick. You saw more of his wounds and knew what kept him up at night so yeah…you were still a fool for Armando Aretas—technically Lowrey but that was a sore subject—you can admit that.

“I could if I wanted to but Italian furniture isn’t my style.” He says gripping your ankle to toss to the side as he plops down beside you on the chaise, aware that you weren’t going to move so he did the honors himself.

You lean away some in annoyance as he’s practically sitting on you, just as sweaty as you but somehow manages to still smell fresh like sea salt and oakmoss, thigh to thigh as he clasped his hands behind his head and kicks his feet up with his sneakers still on. You’re side eyeing him and he can feel that, which makes him slowly set his dark eyes on you. Armando has no shame while his eyes move to settle on your chest, with you in a bra and some cherry printed lounge shorts.

It’s not anything he hasn’t seen before but that doesn’t stop you from reaching two fingers out to push his face by the jaw to look elsewhere.

Armando allows your touch, a faint dimple appearing on his left cheek from being caught before easing into what he feels he should say, “I ran into your amigo down at the gym.”

“Yeah? Which one?” You’re fanning at your face, peering up at the AC that’s on the wall above the couch to make sure that it is in fact on, before lolling your head to meet Armando’s awaiting eyes.

“You know the one.” He answers with a sly smirk, “The guy with the shitty haircut? The one who wants to fuck you?”

Your eyes clench as you exhale, knowing exactly who Armando was talking about. How could you not? Irving was his name and he lived in the building right across the street on the same floor as you. He was nice and all with your interactions feeling more friendly than anything on your part so you figured focusing on yourself for a bit was the best way to go.

Honestly you weren’t sure if serious dating was in the cards for you at this time and you were learning to be okay with that.

“What did you do, Arman?”

He blinks the furrow of his brows away as he bluntly replies, “What makes you think I’ve done something?”

Sharply exhaling you reach over to yank at his wrist to get a good look at his fist but he shoves you back into the couch by his forearm, holding you in place, “I caught him looking at pictures he took of you this morning, out on that balcony dressed exactly like this. I had to teach him a thing about consent.”

“Arman…you’re supposed to be laying low and you think swinging on somebody is doing that?” You maneuver your knees in between you two, ready to shove him off.

With just one hand he’s wrestling your knees away as well while he grits into your face, “I’m not apologizing for that mami and I told him if I catch him with his curtains open again, he’s gonna get more than just my hands.”

“Listen to yourself!” You huff with wide eyes, “What gives you the right?”

He frowns above you, “What?”

“You shouldn’t be acting like you care so much when you’ve been fucking his sister Irma not long after you got here!” You exclaim leaving Armando in shock that you knew and loosens his grip which is enough for you to finish with, “get off me.”

You’re sitting up now as Armando is soaking in your words. Irving and Irma seemed to be well liked in this part of town with Irving having a successful beisbol career and Irma owning an essential oil shop in town. It wasn’t a matter of competition at all—although you were sure Armando would probably enjoy that—you all did well for yourselves and Irma seemed likable. The two of you mostly saw each other in passing out in town since it felt like she always had somewhere to be. However that appeared to slow down just a tad once Irma met Armando.

It was a bad move on her part, take it from you but it was frustrating having Armando look out for you when you’ve been doing it yourself for the longest. Not only that, his emotions were all over the place and he has Isabel to thank for that. There was a romantic relationship that formed not long after becoming friends at eighteen. Being in love at eighteen becomes completely different once you carry over into your twenties and the meddling from his scheming mother became emotionally draining for you as well.

When there was conflict that’s when the passive behavior came out and Armando always felt like he had bigger problems than the pettiness that occurred in your relationship, which was double the hurt. One day you realized leaving was the better option. So you thought because one thing about Armando? He would always find a way in. You didn’t even know what to label your relationship to this day because you never gave the title of being each others significant back then but you knew the potential of what it could be. The shame tried to hit you which was reminiscent to the tiny piece of hope that entered your body days after Armando decided he would stay at your apartment. Hope was just as dangerous as Armando. The idea that the both of you could start fresh although he was practically in hiding was not something you should play with.

So you wouldn’t.

“Why are you worried about any of that when we don’t know what else he’s got of you in his place?”

The deflection was crazy work!

The sarcasm escaped with your sigh, “Hopefully he gets rid of it now after you possibly rearranged his face.”

Armando rolls his eyes, “you’re too calm about this for me.”

“I’ve had great practice.”

Armando deeply inhaled while rubbing at his tense jaw, “I don’t know what you expect from me here.”

He claimed that he just wanted you to be happy the day that you left but he’s seen the shift in you since he’s been here over these past few months. He didn’t like that he may be the cause of it but he also couldn’t let you go. You were so important to him. You were the only person in his life that he could trust and that said a lot. He knew he was in love with you and not Irma, the sex was meaningless and proved that, which he’s come to terms with and she agreed to call it quits.

That part you didn’t know.

“Nothing at all. You’re just someone passing through.” You push off the couch, ready to cross by him but he’s grabbing your hand now.

Both of your eyes connect, “don’t say that shit to me. We both know what this is isn’t just temporary, never has been. We’ve been locked in.”

“If you’re going to keep acting up like this, you’re gonna have to find a new place to crash since you’re so resourceful.” You state as you hold his stare, “You don’t have to be what Isabel trained you to be anymore, Arman. You can just be, live the way you want and the sooner you realize that—

“And what exactly do you think that should look like, huh?” He cuts you off, “I was a damn prison baby and actually spent time there. My life isn’t meant to be some stable slower lifestyle that you have going on here.”

You give a small smile at how far gone he was, reaching out to caress Armando’s cheek. He wants to dodge your touch this time, feeling that you were almost pitying him but somewhere in his heart he felt that wasn’t true. It was funny that he was saying this while being here for four months, he looked adjusted to the lifestyle here to you. Even taking the time to figure out how he was going to get some income while in hiding and even got himself a fake id. He didn’t think he could live regular because that wasn’t what he was used to.

“If that’s not what you want then who am I stop you? You can leave whenever you want, matter of fact why not tonight? I’m sure the feds are still looking for you anyway.” You let your hand drop from his cheek, stepping away from him to head down the hall.

He’s hot on your trail, following you to the extra bedroom that contains a daybed that he’s been sleeping on. You’re going through the drawers while you’re pulling out his clothes as he questions you, “what’re you doing?”

“I don’t need to keep doing this with you. I left Mexico City for a reason, to get away from your ass and you keep on coming back. Why?!”

Armando is watching you as you bunch up a shirt, “that’s my shirt you’re wrinkling.”

“Well maybe you can fuck off and hide in a clothing store instead, that way all the clothes will be hanging up for you so you won’t have to worry about that.” You toss it right at his face, but he catches it followed by a glare.

You scowl before you whip back around to continue tossing more clothes onto the daybed. It’s not long before you feel Armando lock his arms around you, to stop your movements.

Freezing up in Armando’s arms you steady your breathing to calm yourself down and not because he had a hold on you. “I never once said that I didn’t want you or us.”

“…Your mother said I would never be the right one for you.”

It was still hard for you to let that go and it’s been years but hey, you’re only human!

“Well…she’s a liar and she’s dead now so I don’t think her words really matter much.”

You turn to face Armando, so that you can look him in the eye when he talks. It was harsh of him to say this and you knew how much he’s grown to value the opinion of his late mother but you also knew how much self-doubt she secretly instilled in him too. He hid it well. Now he had to deal with that on his own. That was going to take a lifetime of healing, this you knew but you were willing to love him through it and it took your own time to realize that maybe that needed to be from a distance permanently.

It’s Armando’s turn to cup your face, holding your chin he tells you, “you’re the only person I’ve ever felt safe with and the only person to hold me down miles away even when we weren’t on speaking terms. I can always count on you to not ever let shit slide.”

The small laughter you both share fights against the tension in the room.

He breathes, “Mami—

“I know what you’re going to say because I’ve heard it all before.” You assert, “I’ve known you for ten years. That’s a long time to get to know someone, you know? I’ll always be your safe space but I can’t keep waiting for something that you’re not a hundred percent about.”

Armando licks his bottom lip, letting his hand slip from your face while he takes in what you’re saying to him. “I’m…if I wasn’t a hundred about you I wouldn’t have stayed…leaving is usually my thing but you beat me to it the first time and I wouldn’t have constantly checked up on you without you even knowing. I didn’t hear you then, that’s my fuck up but I’m listening and…maybe the time is now?”

“What’re you saying, Arman?”

He curses in Spanish while scratching at his brow in thought. Was he really about to say this? “…We can try and I can’t promise it’ll be perfect but I have a feeling it’ll be worth it.”

The room is quiet and Armando can hear his own heartbeat drumming in his ears, which is just like the times he’s been shot. It’s anxiety driven as he’s watching your face for any clues before you respond. You don’t give anything away and usually he’s the better one at playing stone face but he’s in your territory now.

“…you’re soft.”

“Huh?” Armando dips his head, trying to catch your eyes and make sure he’s heard you right.

“I said, you’ve gone soft on me and it’s surprising to see.” You slowly say as Armando tightens his glance, “look at that.”

He doesn’t need to hear anymore, yanking at the waistband of your shorts to pull you flesh against his body. “I’ll show you…if you let me.”

Armando watches you as you swallow, hands steadying against his chest while he holds onto your hips. When you gently place your forehead against his, he breathes you in before shifting to press a tender kiss to the side of your neck. His tongue briefly brushed against your skin as he goes in for another, open mouthed before you pull his lips right to yours.

A mutual sigh escapes both of your locked lips but your shoulders are still hunched in caution. Armando squeezes your back while trailing his tongue along the outline of your bottom lip, asking to be invited. Once he’s in, he wastes no time lifting your legs to wrap around his waist, making his way out of the room and to the shower.

He was going to show you why the distance was no longer needed.

Unknown to Armando, you had already made up your mind before the soft provoking…you just hoped while you lay awake against his back while he’s sleeping that you don’t change your mind.

You were no longer that eighteen year old or even that twenty-four year old.

Time was always telling.

.˙꩜°˖:*࿔ ☼ ࿔*:˖°꩜˙. .˙꩜°˖:*࿔ ☼ ࿔*:˖°꩜˙. .˙꩜°˖:*࿔ ☼ ࿔*

Continue with my summer anthology writings & prompts here.

[thestrongestkikufuku]

a business proposal, p. 4

» series masterlist - ⟡⋆˙

» contents - ⟡⋆˙ fluff, crack, angst, au, satoru gojo x f!reader, ceo!gojo, fake dating, gojo being a bit mean ;(

» word count - ⟡⋆˙ 4.6k

» notes - ⟡⋆˙ hello lovelies!! welcome to part 4! i had so much fun writing this one, even more on the next part which is almost done. i am considering on keep working on it to post it as well later tonight, but i haven't taken a long break in a while so it's not guaranteed!! anyways, hope you all enjoy reading and if you want to be added in the taglist please let me know (⸝⸝ᵕᴗᵕ⸝⸝)

» m.list - ⟡⋆˙

A few days later, the weekend arrived with a sense of normalcy that you desperately needed. The afternoon sun poured through the windows of the bakery, casting a warm, golden glow over the display cases filled with freshly baked pastries. You found solace in the familiar routine, the rhythmic motions of kneading dough and the comforting scent of bread baking in the ovens.

Rin was there as well, she had offered to help out, knowing your father was away on weekends. Her presence soothed your frayed nerves, distracting you from the turmoil of the past few days.

After sliding the tray of cupcakes into the oven, Rin wiped her hands on her apron and turned to you, a serious expression on her face. “Okay, now that the cupcakes are baking, let me see that document you signed.”

You hesitated for a moment, then pulled the contract out of your bag and handed it to her. Rin’s eyes scanned the pages quickly, her brow furrowing with each clause she read.

“This is... intense,” she said finally, looking up at you with a mix of concern and disbelief. “He really covered all his bases, didn’t he? But... Is it worth all this effort, [name]? I mean, this is a lot to deal with.”

You nodded, feeling a fresh wave of anxiety. “He was going to press charges, which means he would’ve found out my real name and the fact that I work for his company. And then what? I’d get fired and…” You pause for a moment, sighing heavily as you snatch the document back, “look, it’s the best I can do, besides if I back out now I have to pay him back a hundred times the contract amount.”

Rin's expression softened with genuine remorse, turning to face you fully, her eyes filled with regret. “I'm so sorry again for dragging you into this mess. I never wanted things to get this complicated for you.”

You shook your head, managing a small smile despite the lingering anxiety. “It’s not your fault. I made the decision to help you. I just didn’t expect it to turn out like this.”

Rin reached out and squeezed your hand reassuringly. “I appreciate what you did for me. And I’m here for you, whatever happens next. We’ll figure it out together.”

Her words were a comfort, a reminder that you weren’t alone in this. The bakery buzzed with the sounds of customers and the clatter of baking tools, but in that moment, it felt like a sanctuary, a place where you could find some semblance of peace.

“So..” Rin began tentatively, “how’s the studying coming along on your fake boyfriend then?”

You sighed, your hands pausing mid-knead. “The more I read about him, the more unbelievable he seems,” you said, frustration spreading across your face. “Not only was he born with a diamond spoon in his mouth, but he’s also smart and good with sports. Plus, he’s hot.”

Rin chuckled softly, shaking her head. “Sounds like a character straight out of a romance novel.”

“Exactly!” you exclaimed, throwing your hands up in exasperation. “How am I supposed to keep up this charade with someone so… Perfect?”

Rin leaned against the counter, her expression thoughtful. “Maybe you don’t have to be perfect. Just be yourself and do what you can. Besides, it’s not like you’re expected to actually fall for him, right?”

“Right,” you muttered, though the uncertainty in your voice was palpable. “But what if I mess up? What if he realizes this whole thing is a sham?”

Rin placed a comforting hand on your shoulder. “Hey... You’re overthinking it. You’re smart and resourceful. And if things get tricky, we’ll handle it together. Besides, it’s not like this arrangement is gonna go on forever, is it?”

You sighed, feeling a bit of relief at her words. “I hope not. Honestly, the sooner this whole thing is over, the better.”

As you resumed kneading the dough, the pleasant hum of the bakery was interrupted by the tinkling of the bell above the door. Instinctively, you turned with a welcoming smile, ready to greet the customer, but your words caught in your throat when you saw who it was.

Nanami stood there, his sharp gaze softened as he caught sight of you, and a warm smile spread across his face.

“K-Kento, hi.” You stammered, caught off guard by his unexpected visit. His presence seemed to fill the bakery with a comforting warmth that contrasted sharply with the tension of recent days.

“Hey,” Nanami replied warmly, his gaze lingering on you with a gentle intensity. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

“N-no, not at all,” you managed to say, though your heart raced with nervousness. “W-what brings you here?”

Nanami’s smile widened slightly. “I thought I’d stop by to pick something up.”

“Of course,” you replied quickly, eager to assist him. “What can I get for you?”

He hesitated for a moment, his gaze drifting towards the display of bread and pastries. “I’ll go for the chocolate cake today.”

You blinked in surprise. Nanami rarely indulged in such sweet delicacies. “Chocolate cake?”

He chuckled softly, a hint of nostalgia in his eyes. “Yeah, Hana is back from her trip. We’re meeting up later, and I thought I’d bring her a treat.”

Your heart sank at his words. Hana—the name echoed in your mind like a distant ache. She was Nanami’s girlfriend from high school, a vivacious woman with a smile that could light up a room. Their past together was something you had to endure in silence, but the thought of them meeting again stirred a mix of emotions within you.

“That’s nice of you,” you murmured, managing a polite smile, though inside, your heart sank deeper. “A-any reason why you’re... Meeting up?”

Nanami paused, his expression thoughtful as he considered your question. His eyes, usually so clear and reassuring, now seemed clouded with memories you couldn’t share.

“We... Haven’t seen each other in a while,” he finally answered, his voice tinged with a hint of wistfulness. “Just catching up, I suppose.”

You nodded, trying to mask the twinge of disappointment. “I see.”

You busied yourself with wrapping up the chocolate cake,  trying to hide the swirl of emotions and the ache in your chest. 

“Here you go,” you said, handing him the boxed cake with a small smile. 

“Thanks.” Nanami replied, his voice tinged with gratitude. 

As Nanami reached into his pocket to pay, you instinctively interrupted him with a gentle shake of your head. “It's on the house today, Kento.”

Nanami hesitated, a flicker of protest in his eyes. “Oh, you really don't have to do that…”

But you insisted, your smile now feeling strained as you forced cheerfulness into your voice. “No, really. Take it. Consider it a thank you for being such a loyal customer and a good... Friend. Also, the thought is very kind of you, I’m sure Hana will appreciate it.”

He paused, clearly touched by your words. “Thank you, [name], I appreciate it.”

With a nod, Nanami gathered the boxed cake and prepared to leave. But just before he stepped out, he turned back to you with a warm expression.

“Oh, before I forget.” Nanami's voice brought you back from your thoughts. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small envelope, handing it to you with a warm smile.

You took it, feeling the weight of the paper between your fingers, and looked up at him questioningly.

“I wanted to give you something.” Nanami explained gently. 

Curious, you opened the envelope and found two tickets nestled inside. Your eyes widened as you realized what they were for—tickets to the concert of your favorite artist. 

Your eyes widened in surprise and joy. “Kento, I... I don't know what to say.”

He smiled softly. “I know how much you love their music, and I saw that they were going to perform here, so I thought you’d enjoy it. You can take a friend with you, someone you’d like to go with.”

Your heart sank at his words, a wave of disappointment washing over you. Despite his kind gesture, you couldn’t shake off the realization that he hadn’t intended to accompany you to the concert.

“Oh,” you managed, trying to hide your disappointment behind a smile. “That's really thoughtful of you, Kento. Thank you.”

Without thinking, you stepped closer and wrapped your arms around him in a hug. Nanami hesitated for a moment before gently wrapping his arms around you. And for a brief moment, you lingered in the embrace, feeling the steady beat of his heart against yours. 

When you finally pulled back, you met his gaze, and a faint smile played on your lips. “You should go. Don’t keep Hana waiting.”

Nanami nodded silently, his expression softening with understanding. “I’ll see you later, [name].” 

With that, Nanami finally left, the bell above the door chiming softly as he disappeared through the entrance. Alone in the now quiet of the bakery, you leaned against the counter, a heavy sigh brushing past your lips. Your thoughts lingered on Nanami and Hana. Would the chocolate cake bring a smile to her face? Would it evoke memories of their time together, perhaps reignite a connection that had once been strong?

Rin emerged from behind you with a mischievous grin and a dramatic sigh. “Well, that was depressing.”

You shot Rin a playful glare, though her teasing hit a nerve. “Thanks, Rin. Really uplifting.”

Rin shrugged, their grin widening. “Hey, I’m just stating facts. You’re the one pining after Kento like a lovesick puppy.”

“I— that’s not—that’s not true!” you retorted, more defensively than you intended.

Rin raised an eyebrow. “Sure, sure. So, when’s the big confession happening?”

“There’s nothing to confess,” you insisted, your voice sharper than intended. “We’re friends, Rin. Just friends.”

“Oh, Kento, hi!” Rin squeaked in a high-pitched voice, fluttering her eyelashes dramatically. “It's so nice to see you!”

You rolled your eyes, trying to stifle your laughter. “Oh, shut up. I don’t sound like that.”

Rin’s grin widened. “Oh, Kento, would you like some extra chocolate on your cake? It’s on the house!” she swings her arm around you, gesturing dramatically. “Oh, Kento, thank you so much for these tickets! I love you so much, mwah, mwah, mwah—”

You shove her away from you gently, but couldn’t suppress a smile. “I’m glad that my mess of a love life amuses you.”

“Hey, laughter is the best medicine, right?” Rin nudged you playfully.

Suddenly the bell above the door chimed again, and just as you were about to welcome the customer, the words got caught up in your throat. Your heart skipped a beat when you saw Gojo enter the bakery, his trademark grin lighting up his face. Panic flickered in your eyes as you glanced at Rin, who mirrored your expression of confusion and concern.

“Oh no, why is he here?!” you hissed to Rin, your voice barely a whisper as you instinctively crouched down behind the counter. “Why is he everywhere?!”

Rin’s composed demeanor faltered, her hands fidgeting nervously, “I-I don’t know?! Just— UGH, you go to the back and get ready. I’ll distract him.”

Before you could protest or even respond, Rin hurriedly shoves you towards the backroom. “Go! I’ll handle this.”

Meanwhile, Rin straightened up and forced herself to put on a bright, welcoming smile. “Oh, hi! Fancy seeing you here. What can I get for you today?”

“Well, well, well. Miss Takahashi, what a pleasant surprise,” he greeted, his tone light but his eyes sharp with curiosity. “I didn't expect to find you here.”

Rin chuckled nervously, internally scrambling for an explanation. “Oh, you know me, always popping up where there’s good food. I’m just helping out my friend [name]— Mei. I mean, I’m helping out Mei. She uh.. Needed a hand today.”

Gojo’s eyebrows quirked up in surprise as he looked around expectantly. “Speaking of Miss Mei, where is she?” 

Rin’s smile faltered for a split second before they recovered. “Oh, uh, Mei’s... in the back. She's um… She’s really focused on something important right now. You know, busy with... baking things.”

“I need to talk to her.”

Rin’s heart pounded as Gojo took a step closer, his gaze sharpening with determination. She glanced nervously behind her, trying to come up with a way to stall him without raising suspicion.

“Mr. Gojo, I really don’t think now’s a good time,” Rin replied with a nervous chuckle, her voice tinged with urgency as she subtly edged closer to block his path towards the backroom. “Mei’s in the middle of... a very delicate baking process. You know how it is, can’t disturb the chef at work!”

“Miss Takahashi—”

“Sorry, sorry! I’m here.” You hastily emerged from the back, now adorned with a quickly fixed makeup look and the styled wig that concealed your usual appearance.

The pair fell silent as the atmosphere in the bakery shifted, the tension was palpable as you faced Gojo, a small smile lingering momentarily on his lips before it was replaced by a focused gaze.

“M-Mr. Gojo,” you began, your voice steady but tinged with apprehension, “what brings you here today?”

“Ah, Miss Mei,” Gojo responded smoothly, his charismatic demeanor unwavering despite the serious undertone in his voice. “You haven’t answered my calls.”

Your heart skipped a beat as you fumbled for an explanation, realizing your phone had been on mute in your pocket. Pulling it out discreetly, you glanced at the screen—a sight that sent a chill down your spine. Five missed calls from ‘Archaeopteryx’.

The feeling of dread washed through you as his previous words echoed in your mind, “If you don’t answer or try to disappear, I’ll come find you.”

You let out a nervous chuckle. “I... I-I’ve been really busy, Mr. Gojo,” you managed, your voice wavering slightly. “You know how it is with the bakery and all—”

“Well, it seems like it’s rather calm now, meaning that you’re not busy at the moment, right?” Gojo’s tone remained polite but insistent, his eyes boring into yours.

You could feel the tension in the room escalate. Rin shifted uncomfortably beside you as you glanced at her, silently pleading for support.

“Mr. Gojo,” Rin began smoothly, attempting to diffuse the mounting tension. “Perhaps you could discuss this another time? Mei really is in the midst of—”

“I need to discuss urgent matters with Miss Mei,” Gojo interjected firmly, cutting Rin off. “Could you please give us a moment?”

Rin hesitated, exchanging a quick, worried glance with you before nodding reluctantly. “Of course, Mr. Gojo,” she replied, her voice tight with concern as she retreated towards the back of the building, leaving you alone with Gojo.

You swallowed nervously, now aware of the weight and the intensity of his presence. His smooth exterior held an unsettling look of determination, sending another shiver down your spine.

“Mr. Gojo,” you started again, your voice steadier this time though tinged with nervousness, “what is it that you need to discuss?”

“You’re going to meet my grandfather,” he replied bluntly.

Your heart skipped a beat at his words. Meet his grandfather? The implication sent a wave of panic through you. Gojo’s family was powerful, influential—meeting his grandfather meant stepping into a world you were not prepared for.

“W-what—”

“Tonight.” Gojo continued, his voice carrying a matter-of-fact tone that left no room for argument.

“Tonight?” you echoed, your voice rising slightly with disbelief. “But I have work—”

Gojo cut you off with a wave of his hand. “Close early.”

“I can’t just—”

“Let Miss Takahashi handle it.” Gojo interrupted nonchalantly, as if it were the most natural solution. 

“Mr. Gojo, I appreciate the invitation, but I really can’t just leave Rin to—”

“It’s settled then,” Gojo interjected firmly, his tone leaving no room for negotiation. “You need to be ready at seven.”

Gojo turned to leave, his steps decisive as he headed towards the entrance. But before disappearing through the door he glanced back at you over his shoulder, his gaze piercing.

“Oh, and Miss Mei,” he said quietly, his voice carrying a hint of insistence. “Remember the information given to you about me. It’s important for tonight.”

—

“He sure knows how to push your buttons, doesn’t he?” Rin remarked with a sympathetic smile, handing you a dress she had brought from home. “I can’t believe he expects you to just drop everything.”

You grumbled under your breath as you struggled with the zipper of the dress. “That man is impossible. Who does he think he is, ordering me around like this?”

Rin chuckled softly, helping you with the zipper. “He’s Satoru Gojo, that’s who. Famous, rich, and apparently very persuasive.”

“More like arrogant and annoying,” you muttered, finally managing to zip up the dress. 

After Rin helped you into the elegant dress and ensured your wig was perfectly in place, you stood before the mirror. The reflection staring back at you was not the familiar person you knew—no, this ‘person’ is a creation, a persona crafted for this incredibly complicated and complex situation.

The styled wig framed your face flawlessly, the long waves falling just right. The makeup, more intense than your usual, accentuating your features with precision. The dress, though not your usual attire, draped elegantly over your frame, accentuating curves and creating an air of sophistication.

You took a deep breath, adjusting the fabric slightly and smoothing down invisible wrinkles. This wasn’t just about meeting Gojo’s grandfather—it was about stepping into a role, playing a part in a carefully orchestrated charade.

Rin watched from behind you, her expression a mixture of pride and concern. “You look stunning, [name],” she said softly, her voice breaking the momentary silence. “It’ll be fine.”

You sighed softly as you turned around, facing Rin with a hint of uncertainty in your eyes. "I-I don’t know about this. And.. Are you sure you can handle the bakery?”

Rin met your gaze with a reassuring smile, her hands resting gently on your shoulders. “[name], you look amazing, and I’ve got everything under control here. Don’t worry.”

“But closing by yourself, leaving everything to you...” you trailed off, feeling a pang of guilt for burdening Rin with the sudden responsibility.

“It’s a rare occasion,” Rin interjected, her voice firm yet gentle. “Besides, it’s the least I can do after everything you’ve done for me.”

“Thanks, Rin. I... I hope I can pull this off.”

“You already have,” Rin assured you with a reassuring smile, stepping closer to adjust a stray strand of hair on your wig. “Just remember, it’s just a dinner. You’ve faced tougher challenges than this.”

You nodded, trying to steady the nerves that fluttered in your stomach like trapped butterflies. “Right. Just a dinner.”

Suddenly your phone buzzed in your pocket. Glancing at the screen, you saw a text from ‘Archaeopteryx’.

“I’m outside.”

—

As the car glided through the city streets, you sat beside Gojo, your attention focused on the documents spread across your lap. They detailed various aspects of Gojo’s life—his achievements, interests, and even personal anecdotes—all carefully curated for you to remember in order to create the illusion of a close relationship between you and him.

Gojo glanced over at you. “How’s it going?”

You looked up, momentarily startled before composing yourself. “Fine,” you replied quickly, a nervous edge to your voice. “It’s just... a lot to remember.”

He nodded understandingly. “It’s important that my grandfather sees our relationship as genuine.”

You forced a smile, though inwardly, doubts swirled like a storm. “Of course,” you murmured, flipping through the pages once more, committing to memorize all of the details. “But.. If he asks how we met.. What should I say?”

Gojo fell silent for a moment, his gaze distant as if lost in thought. Then, he turned to you with a small smile. “You can make up whatever story you want. Just make it believable.”

You considered his words carefully, your mind racing to fabricate a story. After a moment of hesitation, you began, “How about... You came to see me on a rainy day. It was unexpected, but you—”

“No.” he said firmly, his tone leaving no room for negotiation. 

Your voice trailed off as you watched Gojo’s expression change subtly, a flicker of discomfort crossing his features as his jaw tightened imperceptibly.

“But why—”

“We’re here.” Gojo announced abruptly, cutting you off before you could finish your sentence. The car slowed to a stop, and you realized with a sinking feeling that further discussion was off the table—for now, at least.

You glanced out of the window, taking in your surroundings. The elegant mansion loomed before you, intricate architectural details adorned the exterior, hinting at a rich history and generational wealth. It was a place that exuded power and privilege, a stark contrast to the humble life you led.

Gojo swiftly exited and rounded the vehicle to open your door. His hand extended towards you, offering assistance. A rush of warmth spreads through your body, sending unexpected butterflies fluttering in your stomach as you take his hand.

“Thank you.” You managed, your voice slightly breathless as he guided you out.

Gojo nodded in response, a faint hint of awkwardness coloring his usual composed demeanor. The brief moment of closeness lingered between you, both of you seeming unsure of how to navigate the unspoken tension that had surfaced.

“Ah, Satoru,” a voice came from behind you, cutting through the moment. 

Gojo turned sharply towards the source of the voice, his expression shifting to a polite and respectful one.

“Grandfather.” Gojo acknowledged, bowing his head slightly.

You turned as well, facing the elder gentleman who approached with measured steps. His presence commanded respect and attention—a blend of authority and warmth that belied his years.

“And you must be, Miss Mei.” Gojo’s grandfather addressed you warmly, a small smile forming on his lips.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir.” You greeted respectfully, offering a polite bow.

The elder man regarded you with a keen gaze, his eyes assessing you. “The pleasure is mine.” He replied graciously, tilting his head in acknowledgement.

As the introductions settled into polite conversation, you found yourself drawn into the rhythm of the evening—a delicate dance of social niceties and unspoken expectations. Gojo’s grandfather guided the conversation with effortless grace, steering it towards topics that navigated the intricacies of familial pride and legacy. You remained poised and attentive, keenly aware of the role you played in Gojo’s carefully crafted narrative. Each word, each gesture was calculated to maintain the illusion of a relationship.

But then, the elder man’s gaze sharpened, his next question caught you off guard. “Tell me, Miss Mei. Do you love Satoru?”

Startled, you hesitated for a split second before quickly recovering. “Yes,” you replied, your voice steady despite the sudden spike in your heart rate. “Yes, I do.”

The grandfather’s eyes bore into you, searching for any sign of insincerity. “Then why did you break up?”

The question hung in the air, a palpable tension settling over the room. You glanced at Gojo, who shifted uncomfortably beside you, his composed facade faltering slightly.

“Grandfather, perhaps now's not the time to—” Gojo began, his tone attempting to steer the conversation away from dangerous territory.

But the elderly man was persistent. “It’s a simple question, Satoru. I’d like to hear the answer.”

You could feel the weight of his scrutiny, and the silence stretched unbearably. Drawing a deep breath, you composed your thoughts, crafting a response that would satisfy the elder man without unraveling the truth.

“It was... a misunderstanding,” you started carefully. “We had different priorities at the time, and it led to a temporary separation. I... I thought he cared more about work than he did about me.

A low chuckle rumbled in his chest, “well, yes. Satoru is someone who knows nothing but work. And that won’t change in the future either. Are you okay with that?”

You hesitated for a brief moment, then nodded, deciding to add another layer to the narrative. “I understand that work is a significant part of his life. But what convinced me of his commitment was when he canceled an important meeting to come and see me. He knew that he’s an important part of my life, and so he showed me that I’m important to him too.”

The elder man’s expression softened slightly. “That’s quite a gesture.” He then looked at Gojo with a sharp gaze, “you rascal. You really canceled a meeting for her?”

Before Gojo could respond, you interjected smoothly. “Yes, and on top of that it was raining heavily that day. Even though he hates the rain, he still came to see me. It was very unexpected but incredibly meaningful. It made me realize that he was willing to step out of his comfort zone for me.”

Gojo stiffened beside you at the mention of the rain. Meanwhile you hoped the added detail would reinforce the sincerity of your story, blissfully unaware of the man’s discomfort.

“Is that true, Satoru?”

Gojo forced a smile, trying to hide his unease. “Yes, grandfather. It’s true.”

The elder man scrutinized Gojo for a moment longer before nodding approvingly. “I see. It seems that you’ve found someone who brings out a different side of you, Satoru.” Gojo’s grandfather leaned back in his chair, a contemplative look on his face. “Very well. Relationships require sacrifices and understanding. It seems you both have that figured out.”

Later that evening, after the dinner had concluded, Gojo stood outside the mansion, staring into the distance, lost in thought. The evening air was cool and refreshing, a stark contrast to the tension that had been simmering throughout the night.

You emerged from the mansion, spotting Gojo standing alone. Approaching him, you broke the silence. “I’ve been looking for you. It was kind of awkward to be alone with your grandfather after you left.” You said with a small chuckle, trying to lighten the mood.

Gojo didn’t respond immediately, his mind seemingly elsewhere. The distant look in his eyes made you uneasy. “H-hey... Are you okay?” you asked, concern evident in your voice.

He turned to face you, his expression unreadable but tense. “You shouldn’t have done that,” he said abruptly, his tone sharper than you had ever heard from him before.

You blinked, taken aback. “Done what?”

“The story about the rain,” Gojo replied with a heavy sigh. “You shouldn’t have mentioned it.”

Confused and feeling the sudden tension, you took a step back. “I was just trying to make our story believable. I didn’t think it would be a big deal.”

Gojo’s frustration was palpable, his usual composed demeanor cracking. “It is a big deal. You have no idea…” He paused for a moment, inhaling sharply, “this relationship is nothing but a simple contractual exchange of money.”

“I-I know that.” you stammered.

“Then stop acting like we’re anything real. Just answer his questions and don’t add your useless comments, got it?” Gojo’s voice was sharp, his eyes cold and distant.

The sting of his words cut deep, and you struggled to maintain your composure. “Okay,” you whispered, feeling a mix of embarrassment and confusion. “I understand.”

Without another word, he turned and headed back inside, leaving you by yourself. You replayed the evening’s events in your mind, trying to piece together what had caused Gojo’s intense reaction.

You knew that there were layers to Gojo that you hadn’t yet uncovered, secrets and pains that he kept hidden beneath his cool and composed exterior. And while the arrangement between you might be a contractual exchange, you couldn’t help but feel a growing curiosity and concern for the man behind the facade.

» taglist - ⟡⋆˙ @megumisthirdog, @inluvkai, @ieathairs, @roscpctals99, @laviefantasie, @snwvie, @sanriosatoru, @cc1306, @pinkprincessglitterzombie, @keaugh, @eolivy, @peachesnoranges, @indicatom, @jayhyunglover

[bluejutdae]

I couldn't fall asleep last night, so this thought came to me...

Changbin softly and lovey fucking the reader to sleep? I bet he would be soooo caring and all lovey dovey🫠🫠

This is not exactly a “fucking reader to sleep” but more of a “sleepy sex” fic. Hope you’ll like it anyway.

Gently asleep, deeply in love | Changbin x you

When Changbin comes back home after a long day of shooting, he’s tired and in a bad mood. The clothes were uncomfortable, the makeup heavy in his skin, the shooting too long for his taste and the air too cold. Just the love for his job, the company of his group mates and the idea of coming back home to you made the day bearable.

Unsure whether you’re still awake or sleeping he checks on you and his question is answered by your soft snores.

Under the shower Changbin tries to wash away all the stress of the day, relaxing thanks to the hot water but also in a hurry. All he wants right now is to slip under the covers and get as close as possible to you.

The sound of the shower and the enjoyable noise of the hairdryer rouse you from your slumber. Fighting sleep, you try to stay awake until he comes back, and you’re rewarded just a few minutes later. His still warm body spoons you from behind and Changbin hugs you, lips kissing your shoulder.

“Hi, baby,” you whisper. On nights like this, when the warmth of the bed tries to lure you back to sleep, when everything is syrupy slow, whispering feels like the only right thing.

“Hi, my love. I didn’t wanna wake you up, sorry”.

Always so sweet, your Changbin. He kisses you again, behind your ear, and his hand finds his way under your sleep shirt and close to your tits. It’s not unusual. He finds comfort in touching you, it’s not always sexual. Sometimes it’s just the intimacy of it that makes him smile, helps him to sleep.

Tonight it’s a mix. Part of him just wants to feel you close to him, your skin under his hands, warm and smooth. But another part of him wants more, craves your mouth and your kisses and your sweet sounds, and your wet pussy’s grip around his cock.

“Baby”, just a simple word, but one of the perks of a long relationship is understanding with almost no words. So you push your ass back against him and turn your head to kiss him. Feeling the luckiest man in the world, he kisses you slow but sloppy, lips unhurried but hands the opposite. He’s quick to get rid of your underwear and put his fingers to work.

There’s not many words uttered between you two, too focused on kissing and touching and moaning quietly. Once he’s inside you, everything is slower. His thrusts are deep yet lazy, unhurried. His curly hair tickles your cheek when he kisses your neck, your shoulder, every inch on your body he can reach without dislodging his cock buried inside you.

He loves making love to you like this; it makes him feel close to you, like you could share a body, like your lives could be lived with a shared luggage. The only thing he regrets in moments like this, is that he tends to come way too quickly. Call him sap, call him tender, but you feel perfect around his cock and under his hands, and when you clasp his hand, intertwining your fingers, it’s over for him.

He spills inside you, tightening his embrace and grunting with his face pressed between your shoulders. He recovers for a moment and redirects his hand between your legs, fingers ready to play with your pussy to make you cum too. Of course he’s surprised when you stop him and tell him ‘it’s okay like this, bunny’. In the end, you’re a sap just like he is.

Sleepy lazy sex is not about orgasms for you, it’s about the intimacy, it’s a “welcome back home”, it’s a promise. It doesn’t matter if you’re tired or stressed or sleepy or in a mood, you’ll always have your Changbin and he’ll always have you.

[houseofevanbuckley]

Just after the army Tommy tried the whole picket fence life.

He found a girl and got engaged. He hid himself hard, so hard he almost forgot most days that this wasn’t the life he dreamed of.

Emma was a nice girl. Worked at the local library while Tommy went through the fire academy.

Tommy was not necessarily happy, but he was content until one day when she surprised him with a very small box at diner.

A small box that contained a positive pregnancy test.

It was the first time he felt real happiness in this relationship. He grabbed her then and pulled her up in a hug, twirling her in the air as they both giggled.

It was the happiest months in his life, taking care of her, watching her body change, seeing his child develop, organizing the guest room in a baby room.

Emma’s labor was difficult. As he held her hand, encouraging her, tears in his eyes he watched as it took all of her strengths. The baby came out and Emma started to bleed. To bleed way too much.

Nurses took the child away while surgeons started to work on Emma right there to get her ready for surgery. She didn’t make it to operation room.

He went home two days later with his son, Eric.

It takes him months to reorganize his life, taking a break from the academy while he takes care of his boy alone. Emma has prepared so much, they already had a nursery picked, and a doctor.

She had made a whole binder of information for them to use.

It’s the first time he cries at home, as he looks into it, reading all her hard work. Sadness and guilt eating at him.

He never truly loved her, not as much as she deserved. He was nice to her and gentle, always. But it was not enough.

He cried over this sham of a life for a long time until Eric started to cry in the next room.

At least something good came from it.

The first time Tommy goes to a gay bar three years later, he doesn’t make it to the guy’s place. They’re making out against the guy’s car when his phone ring and it’s his babysitter name on it.

He answers it immediately, “mister Kinard, I’m sorry to bother you and it’s probably nothing but Eric vomited a few minutes ago. I cleaned him up and he doesn’t have any fever but I wanted to tell you.”

“Thank you Juliet, I’ll be right there.”

He doesn’t wait for her answer and just hangs up, and turns to the guy, “sorry, my son is sick, I have to go.”

He sees it then, the look that will haunt him for a while. Which is ridiculous because to this day he still doesn’t even know the guy’s name, but he sees it. The way his face drop, how his mouth twist in a grimace “oh, you have a son… sure you should go”

In the end the guy leaves Tommy even before Tommy can move.

He goes home and free Juliet. His son is alright, just something he didn’t digest right and it came back out.

It takes him 2 more years to bring back somebody home. It went great. The guy didn’t mind that Tommy had a son. He knew the guy’s name this time and they had been on a few date. Real dates.

Which was kind of an achievement navigating between his son and Gerrard to organize it. Gerrard who he went to great lengths to hide his son’s existence from. Paying babysitter extras, nursery, neighbors. He had spreadsheet. Excel’s creator would be proud of how much he uses it to organize his life and his son’s.

The date they have in the evening goes so well. He frees Juliet again when they arrive home.

They’re making out in the kitchen, his date’s hand is already in his opened pants when they hear a “dadddyyyyy” and the noise of little feet on the floor.

Tommy has just the time to closed his pants before Eric barrels in the kitchen, gummy smile and arms raised as he jumps on his dad.

He sees it again, that fucking grimace. It’s hidden quickly and replaced with a polite smile but still, he can’t unsee it.

He walks Hank back at the door and let him go.

He knows Hank won’t text him anymore; to be fair he doesn’t think he’d text him either now anyway.

Two more years and he hears Evan Buckley talking about going out to find hot chicks together. And it pains him in other ways.

He knows how close Buck and Chris are, how he takes care of him, cares for him. And he thought that maybe for once he could find somebody that would embrace Eric existence, welcomes him.

But Evan isn’t ready. Not for a relationship with a man. And definitely not with a man who has a child.

And then he gets a call. From Evan. And he drinks that awful coffee and maybe it’s not as doomed as he thought. Not when Evan decides to embrace himself so much, so fast.

Their hands are clasped together on the table as they smile to each other, “I have something to tell you”

“Sure,” says Evan with an encouraging nod.

“I… I have a son,” he says and looks intensely into Evan’s eyes, into his face.

And his sees his smile widens even more if it was possible, “is that right ?” To Tommy’s nod he adds “I can’t wait to meet him!”

And he can only see sincerity on Evan face and some curiosity, and his chest finally relax.

“He’s with a sitter now. I’m part of that big brother program and I often have some of the kids there as babysitter. It gives them some cash and get them out of their foster home for a while. Not that they’re bad but, sometimes it’s good to be alone and not share a space with 6 other kids. Anyway, we could… we could go to my place. If you want to ? Not in a, you know” he makes a vague gesture with his hand, “way but so you can meet him”

Evan chuckles and nods, “I’d love that.”

They take their coffees cup and throw them away before leaving the place.

And when they arrive at Tommy’s little house and he opens the door. When they hear the sound of feet on the floor and a little boy comes out running to Tommy he can only see a big smile on Evan’s face and maybe, maybe he’ll finally get that picket fence family in the end.

[azsazz]

Brr-eakdown

Hockey Player!Azriel x Figure Skater!Reader

Summary: Anon Req: I love love LOVE your Hockey!Azriel x Ice skater reader series! So good! 😍 I just read the one where Azriel gets in a fight on the ice and the reader is worried about him getting hurt and I can just imagine how upset Azriel would be if it was the opposite and you didn’t hit the landing or something during practice on the ice and you end up in the ER and everyone’s talking about how there was so much blood so Az is worried and trying to get to you and he wants to punch something so bad while he’s waiting to hear about your condition but there’s no one to fight. He’s so soft and takes care of you while you get better though ❤️🥹 (I need a hockey player Azriel in real life asap… seriously thank you for bringing him to life ❤️)

Warnings: Mentions of an accident (reader falls and cracks her head open) and blood.

Word Count: 1,475

Notes: Okay, I didn't quite hit everything, but hopefully I did it justice with what I was able to add 💙

_________________________________________

“Again,” your coach demands, and you want to melt into a puddle of tears.

Your limbs are aching, legs quivering from practicing the same jump over and over and over again, but you still haven’t mastered it and the championship is only three weeks away. If you don’t land this trick during your routine, you’re never going to nationals.

“I can’t, Coach,” you pant, graciously accepting the water bottle she passes you. Coach Weaver is the most decorated figure skating trainer in the country, and not only is it a privilege for her to be an employee at your university, but to be working on your solo routine with her is an opportunity not many receive. “My legs are shot for the day.”

The water is crisp and fresh on your tongue, wetting your parched throat. If you focus on that, you’re almost able to forget about the quivering muscles of your legs from so many attempted—and failed—jumps today. You’ve been running your routine for the past hour and for once, you’re saddened by the lack of presence from the university’s hockey team, who are usually bombarding your ice time by now, you notice as you peek at the clock on the timeboard pinned to the side of the stadium.

“If you want to make it to nationals this year, you need to spend all of your free time practicing, not chasing around those hockey players,” Coach Weaver says. She doesn’t look up from her phone, eyes glued to the most recent video of one of your many unsuccessful runs. Her eyes are narrowed, scrutinizing, and all you want right now is for her phone to run out of battery. “Are you doing enough core work on your time out of practice?” She finally lifts that inspecting gaze to your stomach and it makes you want to squirm. “Your edge work could use some practice, too. Your control isn’t nearly as strong as it should be.” 

Again, because my legs feel like fucking jello, you think sourly, clenching your teeth. You don’t respond. It’s futile, anyway. All Coach Weaver would do is come back at you with another demand, wondering why you seem to have so many excuses, and you can do without today. 

“Yes, Coach,” you agree, because it’ll be the quickest way to get you out of here. All you want to do is collapse on your couch with some much needed dinner and kick your feet up into Azriel’s lap, praying for a massage. You’ll beg if you have to, but there’s no way you can get down on your knees for him tonight. No, it’s pillow princess night for you, if you don’t fall asleep on the couch first.

“Run it again,” Coach Weaver says, straying away from nitpicking you. “And make sure that air position is tight this time, I don’t want a hair out of place.” 

Spoke too soon.

There’s no point in arguing, even if you know there’s no possible way you’re going to be able to land this jump today. Coach won’t quit until you’re unable to move, until she sees that you’ve had enough. 

Other skaters whiz by and you envy them. A girl and her partner glide past looking like two graceful gazelles, and in an intricate jumble of limbs, he throws her into the air, catching her, and they spin in tight circles, quicker than your eye can follow. 

Maybe you should’ve done partnered skating instead.

“Let’s go,” Coach barks. She’s looking at her watch like she has some place to be, which you know is untrue because of the rumors you’ve heard the other skaters whispering about her. How she drove off her second husband the same way she did the first, how all she has at home is a bottle of rum and a karaoke machine. 

You quickly take position, and then you’re off. You try to clear your mind of all of your earlier attempts but your legs are screaming in protest. You press your lips together, gaining speed, making sure your edges are set and your core is tight.

You don’t even notice Azriel sneaking into the rink. Well, he’s not sneaking, because he’s been in here more times in the past few years at college than you have. He catches you as you glide past, a determined look to your eye that makes his chest tight with pride.

You lift, spin once, twice, and it’s euphoric. Surely, you must almost have it this time. Something blooms warm in your chest, but halfway through your third rotation everything comes crashing down. You nearly would have had it that time, if your lethargic leg didn’t give out as soon as your blade makes contact with the ice again. 

You don’t have time to scream, to brace as you come smashing into the ice with the force of a bull.

The sound of your skull cracking against the ice rings through the arena, silencing everyone except for the distressed shout of your name that follows you into the blackness.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

“Oh my Gods,” Azriel sighs in relief. His brows are furrowed deeply, the same frown you’ve come to know and love deeper, more sad as he stares at you in relief. His fingers tighten around yours and you squeeze back gently, blinking groggily. “Thank fuck you’re awake, sweetheart.” 

“What happened?” You ask, but you don’t know why. You remember everything clearly, up until you slipped into the ice. You remember Coach Weaver demanding you try your trick again, despite your protests not to. You remember feeling confident in the air, even though your legs were an aching pile of muscle that gave out with your landing. From then, it’s all fuzzy. All you know is that Azriel was there. He still is.

“You didn’t land your fall,” he explains wearily, like he’s not sure he should be the one explaining this. Fuck it, he doesn’t care. You’re here and you’re hurt, but you’re okay. You’re going to be. Azriel will see to it himself. “Your body  just crumpled, sweetheart, and you—” He takes a shuddering breath that has you reaching out to caress his cheek. He leans into your touch, kissing your palm before continuing the haunting story. “You hit your head. There was blood everywhere. Please, don’t ever scare me like that again.”

You groan in response, reluctantly removing your hand from the warm skin of your boyfriend, reaching up to finger at the bandages wrapped around your head. You grimace at the thought of what you must look like right now, worse for wear.

Azriel gently takes your hand, removing it from where you’re still poking at your head, trying to find the wound. You don’t feel anything, probably because of the numbing the doctors used when fixing you up. 

You suspect you’re not going to feel all that great later.

“You have five staples in your head,” Azriel answers your unspoken question. If it will keep you from dislodging your bandage, he’ll tell you what you want to know.

You hum softly. “What did Coach say?”

You don’t miss the way Azriel clenches his teeth. “She called the ambulance. She actually insisted that she be the one to ride with you but I shut that down right fucking quick,” he spits, and he’s getting all worked up again. It was hard seeing you fall, his stomach dropping to the floor, but once he saw the blood weeping from your skull, he’d only seen red.

Your shoulders sag. It’s a relief that she isn’t here right now, though a part of you wants to shove this in her face. Hopefully, it will be the last time she ignores her student’s limits.

Leaning your head back against the pillow propped behind you, you ask the question you’re dreading. Swallowing harshly, you inquire, “How long am I going to be off ice?”

Your boyfriend is silent for a long moment, two. It makes your heart twist in your chest, bracing for the terrible news.

“Doc says you’re out for two weeks,” Azriel says, brushing his lips across your knuckles in an apologetic manner. He knows how much skating means to you, and hates to be the one to break the news to you, but he’d rather be the one doing it than you having to hear it from the doctor.

“Two weeks?” you exclaim, eyes nearly bugging out of your head. You wince at the sudden movement and when the roaring of your voice makes your headache. Maybe that hadn’t been such a good idea, but there’s only three weeks until the championship, and if you aren’t able to land your trick within one week returning to the ice, your entire season is fucked.

Azriel cringes, and the bad news isn’t over yet. “Minimum.” 

And your season is officially down the drain.

_________________________________________

Hockey!AU Tag (will be tagged for any hockey fic, no matter paring):

@whyonearthisyourusernamethi-blog @going-through-shit @crazylokonugget @lilah-asteria @girl-who-writes-stuff @moosemahboi @sherayuki @lyinginameadow @acourtofatboydreams @blackthorngirl @shadowsingercassia @evergreenlark @hannzoaks @bloodicka @whyshouldihaveanam3 @elle4404 @cherry-cin @quinzzelx @blackthorngirl @i-am-infinite @feerique @blightyblinders @kennedy-brooke

[fushigurioo]

SAKURA VS TECHNOLOGY

FACETIME EDITION

y/n is missing sakura, so they thought they’d facetime him so they could see him before bed. oh, if only they’d known what a struggle it would be..

wc: 831

You blink down at your phone screen - in utter disbelief in what it’s displaying back to you. Once, twice, three times.

“HELLO?? Why aren’t ya saying anything?” Sakura huffs on the other end. “Why are ya calling me this late anyway it’s midnight, what’s up?”

Another second passes before you sigh and giggle at your boyfriend, who currently has his phone pressed against his ear, despite being on a facetime call.

“What are ya laughing at? HELLO?”

“Haru..babe.. take your phone away from your ear. This is facetime.” You say, trying with all your might to hold back your laughter. As funny as it may be, how clueless he is with technology, you find it simply adorable at how surprised and flustered he gets when he discovers something new on his phone that would be so mundane to most.

“Huh? It’s what time?” He asks, while pulling the device away from his ear and looking down at the screen.

You tilt yours away from your face, snorting and choking on your laughter.

He’s lying on his back, flat on his pillowless futon. His two-toned hair is pushed back and messy. He’s looking downwards at his phone, holding it just slightly below his chest. It’s the most UNFLATTERING angle.

Your restraint cracks and you burst out into a fit of laughter at the combination of the angle, and his confused expression when he realised he can SEE you on his phone.

“Huh.. What the hell is this? How is there a video of ya on my screen? Did you do this?” He’s talking so fast, and has the most precious pink blush spreading across his cheeks.

“No Haru,” you say in between short laughs. “This is facetime. It’s a phone call, but we can see each other at the same time! I thought we could try it out because I couldn’t sleep and I miss you.” You explain, propping your phone up against a makeshift lump on your blanket, giving him a little wave and heart hands.

“It’s- oh..” Sakura mumbles. He smiles softly down at his phone, his heart rate increasing when he registers that he’s looking at you in real time. His blush deepens just ever so slightly into a darker shade of pink. Though, the sweet moment soon ended when his eyes widen and he gasps, sitting up quickly and fixing his messy hair.

“Wait - did ya say we see each other? You can see me too?” There’s a slight tremor in his voice, he’s nervous.

“Mhm” you nodded. “I saw how happy you were to see me.”

His face flushes all over again and he chokes on his breath. “AS IF! I wasn’t happy to see you, I was just surprised that - huh? What’s with ya?” Concern briefly flashes through his face as he clocks your face, which had lost its smile and in turn replaced it with a pout, your lower lip sticking out. Just a slight manipulation tactic you mastered which always catches your boyfriend off guard when he’s yapping random words to make it seem like he isn’t completely head over heels in love with you.

“I’m sorry, I really did think you’d be happy..” You carried on with your pretend sad act, knowing that Sakura would crumble at any second.

And boy, did he crumble.

“HEY! STOP DOING THAT I -“ he lowers his voice and looks down to his left, avoiding eye contact. “I am happy to see ya, okay? I.. I missed you too.”

Your heart swells with undeniable joy and love for your boyfriend, and your happy smile made its way back to your face. Sakura moved his eyes back to his phone screen, and after seeing your change of expression, couldn’t fight the small smile that spread across his face too, nor the sheer adoration in his eyes as you moved on and started telling him about some funny tiktok you had just watched.

From this night onward, you and Sakura would always facetime before you fall asleep, on the nights that you don’t spend together.

Despite facetiming becoming a regular routine for the two of you, Sakura still always puts the phone to his ear when it’s you calling him, but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

BONUS

“Did you guys hear the rain last night guys? Boy, it was really coming down.” Nirei questions his friends, before taking a sip of the coffee he had, courtesy of Kotoha.

“Mhm. Although not for long, heavy rain always relaxes me into a peaceful sleep.” Suo answers.

“Not me. I didn’t realise, I was talking to y/n on face chat. Face talk.. whatever.” Sakura explains nonchalantly, taking a bite out of his egg sandwich.

Kotoha, Suo and Nirei all exchange knowing, amused glances with each other, with Kotoha covering her mouth with her hand to stifle her laughter.

“I think he means facetime.” Suo said, with his signature closed eyed smile and head tilt.

“I SAID WHATEVER.”

NOTE FROM RIO: THIS IS MY FIRST NON SMAU POST 😭😭 I really hope you all enjoy, as always please let me know if there’s anything you’d like to see and i’ll do my best to make it happen❤️