#a man asked me where i went to school for art

[hyperfixating-rn-brb]

remembering the time I tried to explain what good omens was to my art teacher when I animated crowley for my final project and when I said "the Bible but make it gay fanfic between the serpent of eden and guardian of the apple tree", this man perked up and said he would watch it immediately. it was a chill class where everyone just kind of worked with their headphones on and this guy just sat at his desk watching good omens for the rest of class.

a week later it somehow came up in conversation that he had finished the show. when I asked him what he thought he just went quiet then said "... you didn't warn me and I cried an embarrassing amount."

yeah dude thats normal over here welcome to the cult.

edit: I forgot the best part! this was at a fairly conservative, small catholic school with at most 200 kids from preschool to eighth grade. and the fact that he got that excited at the mention of Bible fanfic in this catholic school makes me so happy to think of.

[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

Cary Grant (The Philadelphia Story, His Girl Friday, Bringing Up Baby, Charade)—just the peak of old-school Hollywood sexuality. The glam, the suits, the gentle wit, the acrobatics, those eyes that always looked like they knew exactly what movie they were in and were laughing at the joke...

Vincent Price (Laura, Leave Her to Heaven, House on Haunted Hill, The Masque of the Red Death)—svelte, stylish, horrifying, beautiful, wickedly funny, camp and gorgeous and evil. he was an art connoisseur who advocated passionately indigenous art, he was an actual literal gourmet cook, he was so liberal he got greylisted during the mccarthy era for being too rad, he's my favorite muppets guest of all time

This is round 4 of the bracket. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage man.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Vincent Price propaganda:

Submitted: this fancam

Submitted: this entire Tumblr page

Cary Grant propaganda:

"My Golden Age of Hollywood professor, who was very outwardly gay himself, put it this way: Even though Grant's sexuality was kind of an open secret in Hollywood, the public couldn't know in any real way. But anybody could see that there was a queerness about him, so he was casted for roles where he physically embodies his masculinity in a non-explicit but queer way. Bringing Up Baby is famous for the scene where Grant wears a frilly robe (pictured below, but what people don't always realise is that he plays kind of an awkward nerd in that movie. He's a hot awkward scientist in a grand robe!!! Hot!!! In The Philadelphia Story, one of my famous movies of all time, he plays C. K. Dexter Haven, a rich, sarcastic, supposedly abusive guy. And yet, what we see is this laid back, dandy-ish figure, who absolutely does not feel threatened when a woman he supposedly loves (Katharine Hepburn) starts having feelings for, and hooks up with another guy (James Stewart). He lets a drunk Stewart into his office and helps him get his job back! Obviously that is the script and not the actor, but the whole film, and that scene in particular, shows him having this very queer attitude of openness toward Hepburn and Stewart, which is only amplified by the casting of Grant and his portrayal of the character. Anyway, this is not an essay arguing for The Philadelphia Story to be considered a queer film, all I will say is: he's super hot in it."

The link to the above mentioned frilly robe scene from Bringing Up Baby: "I just went gay all of a sudden!"

last minute cary grant propaganda: the last few paragraphs of that new vanity fair article about him and randolph scott that just came out 2 days ago on cary's birthday where he calls it "gravity collapse" and "love at first sight" and says their souls touched and and and i'm actually sharing this mostly because it makes me emotional but also because a vote for archibald is a vote for love. this is my message. apologies for sounding mildly insane.

[zweiginator]

enemies to lovers with patrick is cool….BUT ENEMIES TO LOVERS WITH ART

like that man is a hater when he doesn’t like someone. i bet its so so intense

yup. and it's just one of those situations where neither of you remember why you hate each other so much. it's just a fact of life. the sky is blue. ice cream is sweet. and you and art donaldson fucking hate each other.

you met in middle school; you had just moved to town and started on the tennis team. art was good, great even. but you were fresh meat, and you were pretty and you got all the attention that year.

and then came high school, and even though you and art obviously never formally competed in tennis, you were always doing so subconsciously. you avoided each other at team dinners, never spoke at parties and even slapped him across the face hard enough to get you suspended for a week after he said you only made varsity after another girl moved away to maryland.

neither of you could even enjoy your full-ride sports scholarships to stanford, once you figured out the other would be joining you. four more fucking years.

you and art feigned the biggest smiles you could muster for the local newspaper in your stanford tennis hats, and scrubbed your arms raw afterwards, disgusted that you had to touch each other.

but stanford was big. and since he was obviously on the boys' team and you the girls, you didn't see each other as often as before. your friends on the tennis team mingled with him, and hung on his arm during formal events. you went on a few dates with one of the boys on the team, although there was never a spark.

one day at a team dinner, high school and hometowns came up. and everyone was confused that you both were from the same small town.

"you grew up together?" your teammate asked.

"yep." art raised his eyebrows, unamused.

"i've never seen either of you speak a word to each other."

"don't need to." you said.

another teammate, michael, spoke up. "something happen?" always nosey.

"he's a raging piece of shit." you moved your rice around your plate, plastering a fake smile on your face.

"and you're a bad fucking tennis player." he would never call you a name.

"so is that why we are on the same team?" you got up. "excuse me. i just became a little nauseated."

art stood up too. "yeah, me too."

you both went your separate ways to the bathroom, heated. the way he knew exactly how to crawl under your skin and rub and rub at the same sore spot until it drove you crazy made your cheeks red and your knuckles white.

you had a tennis party that night, after dinner. a mandatory tennis party--your coach had a roster and everything.

when you showed up, art was wearing a tux with a maroon tie. you wore a purple gown, silky with a deep neckline.

art turned away from you, swirling his glass of champagne.

it started with your eye roll. the whole night chasing each other like cat and mouse. it was fun, making digs at his stupid jokes, embarrassing him in front of girls he was flirting with.

art talked over you all night and scoffed at everything you said; played devil's advocate.

when he went out to smoke at 10:30, you followed him.

"leave me alone!" art turned away from you, shielding his cigarette to light it.

you don't know why you were being such a bitch. you tore it from his mouth and smashed it with your heel, and art called you out for it.

"why are you being a fucking bitch?" he snapped.

"excuse me?"

"yeah i called you a bitch because i don't know what else to call this pathetic, obsessive behavior."

"obsessive?" you stepped closer to him. "nobody is fucking obsessed with you."

art grabbed you by the chin. "lose the fucking attitude."

you retaliated, grabbing his wrist. "you started this."

"oh god," art scoffed. "yeah, sure I started it. you followed me out here."

your heart was beating fast. maybe for the past fourteen years you had been blind to him and he to you. because right now art looked different. his once crooked teeth were straight, spotted skin smooth and peppered with stubble. art noticed your pink lip gloss, the low cut of your dress, how it hugged your figure.

you grabbed his tie, and his hands found your ass as you kissed him. his hair was soft and smelled like sea water and coconut. he moaned against you, pushing you against the brick wall outside. the strap of your dress fell down and art's hand found your breast, his thumb rubbing against your nipple as your hand grazed against his cock, hard and visible, even through his pressed trousers.

"what are you doing?" you asked, gasping.

"what are you doing?"

you ignored him.

"did you drive here? where's your car?"

art took you there, to his black sedan, his hands on the small of your back, his hips rutting into you. the door was still ajar, the repetitive beeping of his car a mantra in your ears.

art bunched your dress up, admiring your pussy as he pressed a kiss to it, wet and needy. he would never tell you he had dreamt of it since he was fourteen.

[trueebeauty]

"𝗂 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎" -gun, goo, james lee.

𝐆𝐔𝐍 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊

Never in a million years would you have thought that today would be the day you see Gun so calm.

He's calm all the time when he's with you, but this one is quite different.

It was a rainy day today, and the two of you were on the couch, absentmindedly watching a movie together.

Though you were too busy cutting Gun's fingernails, all because you claimed they were getting too long.

Surprisingly, Gun actually took better care of himself than you would've thought. (Gun was offended)

His hands, although rough and calloused, were always clean, and so were his nails.

"I'm done," you muttered as you clipped off the last remaining fingernail.

Turning to face a stoic Gun, "Do you not like it shorter?" you asked, tilting your head.

"I don't care for it," Gun responded, typical.

You looked at his trimmed hands again, admiring his hands for a second as you caressed them.

Gun's fingers intertwined with yours, and he pulled you closer, "What is it?" he murmured, his voice low and gentle.

You gazed into his eyes, captivated by the tenderness you found there. "Nothing," you replied with a soft smile, “Just admiring you."

Gun's expression softened before he reached up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. "You're one to talk," he said, his thumb gently caressing your cheek. 

A shiver ran down your spine at the simple yet intimate gesture, and you found yourself leaning in closer, drawn to the warmth of his embrace. 

The movie long forgotten, the two of you sat in comfortable silence, basking in each other's presence, the soft pitter-patter of rain against the windows providing a soothing backdrop.

Tentatively, you reached up too, tracing Gun's face with your fingertips, committing everything to your memory. His eyes fluttered shut at your touch, and you admired how someone so strong and scary could also be so gentle and vulnerable in your arms.

Gun's hand found its way to the nape of your neck, his thumb caressing your jaw, and you felt yourself melting into his touch. With a featherlight tug, he guided you closer, your foreheads touching, his breath mingling with yours.

"I love you," he whispered, his voice barely audible, but you heard it.

Thinking you imagined it, you look at him in disbelief, "What?"

Gun's eyes locked with yours, and you saw a vulnerability there that you had never witnessed before. He took a deep breath, as if steeling himself, and repeated, "I love you."

Your heart skipped a beat, and you felt a warmth bloom in your chest, spreading through your entire being. You searched Gun's face, looking for any sign of hesitation or uncertainty, but found none.

"I..." you started, your voice catching in your throat. You had dreamed of hearing those words from Gun countless times, but now that the moment was here, you found yourself at a loss for words.

Gun reached out, his calloused fingers gently caressing your cheek. "You don't have to say anything," he said softly. "I just needed you to know."

You leaned into his touch, your eyes fluttering shut as a thousand emotions washed over you. Love, joy, relief, and a tiny spark of fear – fear that this might all be a dream, and you would wake up to find it was never real.

But as you opened your eyes and gazed into Gun's gaze, you knew this was no dream. This was real, and it was more beautiful than you could have ever imagined.

“I love you, too.”

“I know,” he teased, bringing your hand to his lips and planting a featherlight kiss on your hand.

𝐆𝐎𝐎 𝐊𝐈𝐌

You've known Goo for basically your entire life. You grew up together, took martial arts together, graduated together, went to the same schools, studied together, walked together, shopped together, ate together, and even took baths together.

There was never a day where you two were apart... well, that was until he met this strange one-armed man.

Suddenly it became, "I'm going to be late, so eat without me."

"I can't, I have to go return something," he'd shout before closing the door.

Then he started coming home bruised, specks of blood on his clothes, a cut here and there.

"Goo, what the hell happened?"

"Ah, didn't know you were up. Just almost got robbed..."

"Robbed? By who? Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just a homeless man."

But one thing Goo didn't know is that you could tell when he lied - he smiled wide, too wide. You don't even know if he was aware of this tell himself, but you sure as hell were.

Even if you didn't recognize his lying smile, he was just too obvious. A homeless man? Robbed? Goo Kim? Only an idiot would believe him.

It didn't make the constant lies to your face any better. It just hurt.

Hurt knowing that he didn't trust you, didn't confide in you, left you behind for who knows what shady business. 

And he acted as if everything was normal.

You had reached your limit.

After an awkward silence, you finally spoke up. "Aren't you going to tell me what's wrong?" Goo said, frustration evident in his voice.

"I-I didn't actually expect you to come," you admitted nervously.

"What do you mean? You said you were in danger–" Goo paused, realization dawning on him. "Oh."

"Yep. Now that you're here, we need to talk about a lot of things— where are you going?" you asked, seeing Goo head towards the door.

"Out," he replied curtly, reaching for the doorknob.

You immediately blocked the door. "Out where?"

"Out to get some air," Goo said dismissively, trying to downplay the situation.

"We're not done here. You can't just show up and then leave."

Goo sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Look, I’m late."

"Late for what?" you insisted, your voice rising.

Seeing Goo go silent, you continued, "You’ve been like this for months now. I waited for you to explain, but you never did."

Goo opened his mouth to respond, but you kept talking, the words tumbling out rapidly. “So tell me what is going on right now, or I swear I will–”

Before you could continue, Goo stepped closer and gently placed his finger over your lips, hushing you. His eyes locked with yours, and you fell silent.

“Or you will what?” Goo asked.

You slapped his arm away. “I’ll do something really bad,” you said.

Goo rolled his eyes. “Like what?”

As soon as he said that, he felt a burning pain between his legs and collapsed to the ground, breathless and numb.

“That,” you said, a smile on your face.

“Owww,” Goo whined, starting his dramatics.

Rolling your eyes, you sat on the floor next to him, side-eyeing him as he rolled around. Having enough, you grabbed his hair and made him face you. “Tell me,” you said.

"I love you."

You froze, heart pounding at Goo's confession. He took the moment to gently remove your grip and pull you down to lay beside him, never letting go of your hand.

Your hand trembled in his grasp.

"I want to tell you everything, but it's dangerous. I don't want them to find out about you," Goo continued, his voice calm.

"W-who's them?" you asked hesitantly, anxiety creeping in.

"Bad people," he replied vaguely.

"Who are the bad people?" you pressed.

"Evil people," Goo said simply.

Rolling your eyes, you turned to face him, your noses almost touching. "You're being very vague."

A small smile played across his lips. "I want to be."

You frowned. "So you'll never tell me the full truth?"

"I will, just not right now. It's better if you can enjoy your life without this weighing on you," he said, tenderly brushing a stray hair from your face.

"And what about you? Will you be able to enjoy your life?" The thought of Goo suffering alone made your chest ache.

"Don't worry about me, I'll be fine," he assured you, though his eyes betrayed a hint of sadness.

"That just makes me worry more," you confessed, holding his gaze imploringly.

Goo let out a soft sigh. "I'm sorry, truly. I hate keeping things from you..."

You both laid there in silence for a few moments as Goo's thumb gently caressed the back of your hand, a tender gesture that didn't quite ease the ache in your heart.

Finally, you took a deep breath and met his gaze again. "I don't like this, keeping secrets from each other," you said quietly but firmly.

"Doesn't feel right after everything we've been through together."

"Believe me, I hate it too. More than anything, I want to be fully open with you." He brought your entwined hands up, pressing his lips to your knuckles.

"But some truths are better left unsaid, at least for now, to keep you safe."

You opened your mouth to protest, but he gently shushed you again. "I'm not in any immediate danger, I promise. This is more about protecting your peace of mind."

Letting out a frustrated sigh, you reluctantly nodded. As much as it pained you, you knew you had to trust Goo's judgment on this.

"Just...promise me one thing?" you asked, your eyes pleading.

"Anything," he replied without hesitation.

"Don't shut me out completely," you said, your voice wavering slightly. "I need you, even if I can't know every detail right now. We're partners, right?"

Goo's features softened, and he leaned in to rest his forehead against yours. "Always, I'm not going anywhere. I'll tell you what I can."

It wasn't a perfect solution, but for now, it would have to be enough. You nuzzled closer, letting the solidity of his embrace ease your worries, if only temporarily.

𝐉𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐒 𝐋𝐄𝐄

You sat on the balcony's doorstep, watching the storm and pretty city lights. The rain pattered against the concrete, and flashes of lightning illuminated the skyline, casting a glow over the buildings. 

You enjoyed the quietness and peacefulness, but you felt empty inside, a hollowness that couldn't be filled by the beauty surrounding you.

As the wind picked up, sending a chill through your body, you gazed out into the night, lost in thought. Suddenly, you felt the warmth of a blanket being draped over your shoulders. 

Before you had a chance to turn around, a familiar figure sat behind you, their arms encircling you, holding you close. All at once, you felt a comforting warmth envelop you, and you knew exactly who it was.

In that moment, the emptiness disappeared, replaced by a sense of contentment and belonging. 

You leaned back into his embrace, letting the sound of his steady breathing and the rain calm you, "When did you get home?" you whispered, savoring the warmth of his body against yours.

You felt him move, his lips brushing against the crook of your neck as he placed a tender kiss there. "A few seconds ago, I was looking for you," he murmured, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver down your spine.

Melting into his arms, you sighed contentedly. "I didn't hear you," you admitted.

He chuckled softly, the vibration resonating through his chest and into your back. "You seemed lost in thought," he said, tightening his hold on you ever so slightly. "What's on your mind?"

Turning your head, you met his gaze, those eyes that always seemed to peer straight into your soul. "Nothing in particular," you replied, offering him a small smile. "Just enjoying the view."

His thumb traced gentle circles on your arm as he studied your face, a tender expression on his own. "You know you can talk to me about anything, right?" he said, his tone laced with concern.

Nodding, you leaned in and brushed your lips against his, a soft, reassuring kiss. "I know," you whispered, feeling the weight of the world lift from your shoulders in his presence.  

He pulled you closer, his arms a comforting anchor, and asked, "Have you eaten anything today?"

A chuckle escaped your lips at his concern. "I should be asking you that. I know they don't really care about anything other than if you're pretty and scandal-free," you teased lightly as you flicked his pink hair in his face.

Shaking his head with a laugh, he pressed a kiss to your temple. "You know me too well," he murmured against your skin. "But I'm more worried about you. You tend to forget about taking care of yourself when you get lost in that beautiful mind of yours."

You rolled your eyes playfully, but couldn't deny the truth in his words. "Alright, alright, you've caught me," you conceded, turning in his embrace to face him properly. "I may have skipped a meal or two today, but only because I was so absorbed in my writing."

His brow furrowed in that adorable way it did when he was concerned for you, and you reached up to smooth away the crease with your fingertips. "Promise me you'll eat something soon?" he urged, capturing your hand and pressing a kiss to your knuckles.

Gazing into his eyes, you were struck once again by the depth of his love and devotion, you didn’t know how you got so lucky. "Only if you promise to do the same," you countered with a soft smile. "Deal?"

The corners of his eyes crinkled as he returned your smile, his thumb caressing the back of your hand. "Deal," he agreed, sealing the promise with a tender kiss that made your heart flutter.

You both pulled away from the kiss, slightly dazed and breathless. As you gazed into his eyes, filled with so much adoration, the words tumbled from your lips before you could stop them. 

"I love you, James."

A look of surprise flashed across his face for the briefest of moments before melting into an expression of pure joy. 

His eyes crinkled at the corners as a smile spread across his lips. "And I love you," he murmured, cradling your face in his hands. 

Leaning his forehead against yours, he let out a contented sigh, “More than you could ever imagine."

[egcdeath]

sealing the deal

pairing: patrick zweig x reader

summary: you and patrick make a few unique business proposals to each other.

word count: 7k

warnings: succession au – tomshiv dynamic (pre-failmarriage), proposals (business and romantic), fluff, a little angst, mentions of a dad being very sick/almost dying, lots of exposition/background on the relationship, art cameo, a little domesticity, established relationship

author’s note: you don’t have to know anything about succession to enjoy this fic! i’ll explain everything that you need to know. if you’re a diehard succession fan i can’t promise that everything will be completely faithful to the source material but it definitely takes a lot of inspiration from tom and shiv’s dynamic.

i wanted to give a HUGE thank you to my succession anon who gave me so much help and guidance for this fic and basically ended up being my co-author for this fic! i hope you all enjoy :)

It wasn’t always easy loving the youngest son of the owner of a multi-billion dollar media conglomerate. 

In fact, most of the time, it was quite the opposite. 

Even without Patrick working in his family’s business, it always felt a little bit like you were in a competition for brain space and time with his family and career, and you were losing. Badly. 

You weren’t exactly sure that you knew what you signed up for when you first met Patrick—connected to each other by a mutual friend you went to business school with, whom you’d begged to try to set you two up for career advancement purposes more than anything else. 

“You know that guy you keep asking me about?” your friend asked you after taking a hefty sip from the drink the bartender just passed her. 

“Patrick Zweig?” you asked, not bothering to pretend like you didn’t know who she was talking about. 

“Yeah!” she laughed like it was the funniest thing in the world. You weren’t sure where she was going with this subject, but you were intrigued by her mention of the man and her apparent entertainment at the situation. 

“What about him?” you asked, perversely curious as to why she was bringing him up now. 

“I invited him to come out with us tonight!” she laughed once more as she divulged this information, as if it wasn’t shocking news to you.  

“What? What the fuck? Why didn’t you tell me before!” you practically yelled at her over the sound of loud music and other bar patrons. You suddenly felt very self conscious. If you’d known you were going to meet Patrick Zweig tonight, you would’ve put yourself together, rather than coming straight from work to the bar. 

“I wanted to surprise you!” she continued with her giggling at a situation that you did not find nearly as humorous. “Oh my god. I wish you could see your face right now.”

“I hate you!” you laughed, thinking that maybe this was some sort of prank. “You’re joking, then?”

“No, he’s really coming. He just got back from D.C. and wanted to meet with me. I asked if my hot friend could come along and he was like, ‘Obviously!’”

You groaned aloud. This wasn’t how you intended to make your first impression on him.

“Okay, well, what’s his type?” you asked her, hoping to get a bit of insight before you were launched right into what might end up being your first date. You were sure that you would make a good impression if you showed up as you were, but you wanted to be better than good. You didn’t want to be just another forgettable notch on his bedpost.

“I don’t know,” she sighed, taking a sip from her drink. “Hot? A nice ass? A little mean? Isn’t that every guy’s type?”

“You’re not taking this seriously enough for me,” you replied. You wanted to have a strategy going into this. You would’ve appreciated at least a small briefing before meeting someone so intimidating. 

“I am, you just check all the boxes already. Just be yourself and I’m sure things will work out fine,” she assured you. 

Her assurance was well warranted, considering that things worked out far better than fine. In fact, your friend was overdue for a fruit basket—one that you would be paying for with Patrick’s credit card as you sat in the dining room of your shared penthouse apartment, after you wrapped up a day of work in the skyscraper that was his father’s corporate headquarters. 

At the time, you had a slight idea of who he was, but you had an even better idea of who his family was. Anyone who owned a television would be familiar with his family’s corporation—from the causal channel surfers who passed one of their many news channels during their search for the newest episode of The Bachelor, to the thousands of people with their logo burned into their device screen from the hours they spent with their eyes locked on the 24-hour stream of borderline propaganda. 

Beyond his impressive family, you’d heard whispers and rumors about Patrick for a long time. Between headlines in gossip magazines and stories from your mutual friend, you learned that he’d entered the political world as an attempt to make a name for himself outside of his family name, but struggled to be taken seriously for many years due to the less than stellar reputation that came with being a Zweig.

Although, rumors about his career were just the tip of the iceberg. Gossip about his tumultuous relationships—if they could even be called that—and history of partying far too hard often ran wild, making you believe that your initial meetings with Patrick would be nothing more than a few hookups and sweet talking yourself into a new job. After all, there was no better pillow talk than an elevator pitch. 

At first, your plan seemed like it was right on track. You ended your first night together in the early morning, finding yourself in Patrick’s apartment for hours. Your night hadn’t really ever ended, with the two of you leaving the bar together, having some of the best sex of your life in a bed that felt a little bit like laying on a cloud, then proceeding to talk for hours until it was time for you to go back to work. You smiled to yourself as you sat in the backseat of Patrick’s car, exhausted from the long night and a little uncomfortable in yesterday’s clothes, but mostly enthusiastic after your surprisingly eventful night with the man. 

It was a strange turn of events from what you initially expected. While you couldn’t be too sure what you were getting yourself into when you learned you were being set up on a date, you assumed that Patrick would be like any other rich asshole you’d gone out on dates with, who got what they wanted from you, sent you off on your merry way, then never spoke to you again. You quickly discovered that he was unlike anyone you’d ever been with before. 

Patrick seemed to be full of surprises, and the fact that you were going on multiple dates with him in the first place was one of those very surprises. You hadn’t expected to go on any more than three dates before you asked about working for his family, securing yourself a job, then leaving him alone. 

What took you by even greater surprise were the dates themselves. What started as an intimate dinner in one of the most exclusive restaurants in the city ended with you at a terrible 24-hour diner, treating Patrick to his first slice of cherry pie as you talked into the wee hours of the morning. 

Your subsequent dates went similarly, with the two of you talking endlessly about anything and everything. Patrick was someone full of surprises—he was far from the rich asshole you expected him to be, and more like a knowledgeable politics nerd with a lot of money. 

You talked for hours about big things, like why Patrick decided to pursue a career as a political strategist and what brought you to New York City, but you also found it easy to discuss small random things with him, spending an extended period of time discussing how you named your cat, and debating on the best restaurant in the city. 

You always thought of yourself as being somewhat agreeable and friendly when it came to conversation, but your discussions with Patrick took you by surprise. You weren’t sure you’d ever clicked with someone the way you clicked with him, and it made you as excited as it made you nervous. 

By the time you worked up the nerve to ask Patrick about working for his family, you were already beat to the punch. The two of you were tucked into the booth that you’d recently declared as yours in the same diner that you seemed to be spending all of your all-nighters in, reclining comfortably in the particularly uncomfortable seats. 

“Do you like the business side of things?” Patrick asked you, stirring a flattening Diet Coke with a straw. 

“It’s fun,” you dismissed. “It’s less fun going to work on a half-hour of sleep.”

“Shut up. You love it,” the man across from you laughed, an admittedly very handsome half-smile on his face. “I mean it though. Do you like what you’re doing?”

“It pays the bills, I guess. I like the work, but I’m not huge on the company. All the politics and the instability with layoffs lately… It isn’t exactly ideal.”

“Would you ever work for my family?” he asked. “I mean, you’re just wasting potential elsewhere. I really think they could use someone like you on their team.”

“Seriously?” you asked, partially surprised at the proposition, but mostly surprised that you weren’t the one to ask in the first place. Across the table, Patrick listened to you intently. “I mean, If they’d have me, I’d love to work for them.”

“My dad mentioned something about them looking for some new blood. I can put in a good word for you, if that sounds interesting to you.”

“Is this because I showed you the joys of a slice of diner cherry pie?” you joked, trying not to let on just how overjoyed you were about this opportunity. 

“You got me. And now that you mention it, we should probably order another slice,” he suggested, going along with your joke. “You’re smart and you clearly know your shit. Besides, I’m mostly doing it for myself. It’ll be nice to have someone around at company Christmas parties who can actually keep up with me.”

“Well, thank you,” you replied calmly, though you were doing somersaults in your mind. “I look forward to drinking eggnog and singing Mariah Carey songs with you.”

In retrospect, you recognized this action as the first of his many wordless declarations of love. You later learned that Patrick did everything he could to avoid talking business with his family, as it was clearly a sore spot for everyone involved. Realizing that he’d gone out of his way to get you a job had been an even more kind gesture than you knew at the time. 

While you initially expected your fling to taper off after Patrick fulfilled his end of the business deal he didn’t even know he was facilitating, your relationship did nothing of the sort. In fact, his favor seemed to have the opposite effect on your bond. 

Before you knew it, the two of you were courting each other like lovesick Jane Austen protagonists. In another shocking turn of events, Patrick ordered flowers to your doorstep each morning and took you on lavish dates, while you began to take four-hour long train rides to and from D.C. each weekend to visit him, and frequently sent him rambling love letters. 

While you hadn’t expected for your relationship to unfold the way that it did, you genuinely loved Patrick. You loved the way his eyes crinkled when you told him something stupid that he’d laugh at, or how he leaned in to whisper something judgmental in your ear about someone you mutually disliked during family events. You loved the way his hand felt in yours and the way his mind worked, which he frequently displayed to you while discussing his latest political strategy. You even loved when he minced words to describe how he felt about you, knowing that though the word ‘love’ might never leave his lips, his actions spoke far louder than his voice ever could. 

It just so happened that you loved his proximity to power, too. 

While his money and power might have piqued your interest initially, it didn’t change the fact that the two of you quickly clicked. You had a natural chemistry, with you matching Patrick’s flirty words and actions with ease. It also just so happened that you entered each other's lives at the perfect time, with you in dire need of a career upgrade, and Patrick in need of someone unafraid to show him more affection and care than he was willing to give. 

Though he wasn’t the best at communicating his feelings, you quickly became a tenured professor in Patrick-ology. You were certain that this played a role in why Patrick liked you so much in the first place—being somewhat emotionally stunted, he needed someone who could understand his thoughts without him having to explicitly say every detail, and you did exactly that. 

This skill worked out surprisingly well for you. You gave him the love and understanding that he’d been looking for and missing for all of his adult life, and you got to reap the benefits that came with being in a relationship with someone in one of the most powerful families in the world. 

Despite your more humble beginnings, you quickly became familiar with luxurious items and activities. You also quickly learned that no matter how prepared you thought you were for that level of wealth—you weren’t. You couldn’t even begin to count the amount of times your unfamiliarity with certain norms left you as the laughing stock of the family. 

But it wasn’t all corner offices in skyscrapers and helicopter rides. During the honeymoon phase of your relationship, it certainly felt like it, but the cracks in your foundation became more and more evident every day. 

The thing was, as much as you two cared about each other, there was a family shaped shadow that loomed over everything that you did. It was clear that you were an outsider in Patrick’s family. Coming from an upper-middle class Midwestern background, you were often made to feel like you were a stupid gold-digger, only staying around your boyfriend for power, rather than love. At times, you wondered if his family knew what love was at all. 

The love, or lack thereof in Patrick’s family was what shocked you most of all. It was no secret that his father was unnecessarily cruel to all of his children, but particularly to his siblings trying to work their way into more serious positions in the company. Patrick somehow managed to dodge that particular flavor of cruelty, with him very obviously being his father’s favorite and working outside of the family business, but the emotional scars his father left still lingered. 

But his father’s presence didn’t just loom over him, it was beginning to loom over you, too. Not only in the extreme intimidation you felt when having to interact with him, but in the small acts of callousness Patrick showed you throughout the course of your relationship. 

It began as small things, things that bothered you less the more you got used to them. Like how he always seemed to unconsciously belittle your work, not even bothering to seem interested in the recaps you gave of your day before he launched into a story of his own about the candidate he was working with. Though you tried your hardest to fight through your smaller pet peeves with him, Patrick’s inability to be straightforward about his emotions felt like the cherry on top of an already painful sundae.

Regardless of all of the flaws, bumps, and roadblocks in your relationship, you promised to yourself that you would be in Patrick’s corner, no matter how ugly things got or how poorly he treated you. Not only out of your own self-interest, but out of your love for the man, and the knowledge of how difficult his upbringing made certain things for him. 

Which was why when you got the call from Patrick that something had gone terribly wrong with his father while coming back from his birthday celebration, you didn’t hesitate to rush to the hospital, encouraging your driver to speed all the way to the building. 

When you arrived, he and his siblings were in disarray in a way you’d never seen before. His father, who was typically a presence that towered over everyone in the room, was reduced to an old man hooked up to a number of machines. His older sisters, who were always either waiting for the moment to swoop in and make a crude joke or waiting in the wings to discuss the next business strategy, paced back and forth endlessly, clearly feeling the pressure of their sick father.

Patrick sat alone on an uncomfortable chair, peering helplessly into the observation room. It was rare for you to see him with his feelings written so openly across his face, even after years of being in a relationship with him. That concerned you.

You made quick work of walking over to Patrick, whose tensed-up shoulders slightly dropped as you took a seat next to him. Though he wouldn’t ever tell you this, you knew that your presence made him feel more supported and a little more safe, though you being or not being in the hospital clearly wouldn’t have an impact on if his father lived or died. 

“Hey,” he greeted you, immediately squeezing your hand. “Thanks for coming,” he said weakly, as if he was fighting off a new round of tears. In that moment, you so desperately wanted to take some of his emotions for yourself, knowing that Patrick hated feeling any feeling, let alone such negative feelings to such a serious degree. 

“Of course, honey,” you reassured him, running what you hoped would be a grounding hand up and down his arm. “Is there anything I can get you? Coffee? Water? A snack? I saw that burger place you like on my way over.”

“No, nothing right now,” he sighed. You inspected him cautiously, knowing that he wasn’t exactly one to always say what he meant. “Really,” he assured you, though you didn’t completely buy it. 

Since he wasn’t in the mood for more material items, you decided that the best course of action was a little affection. He wasn’t always the biggest fan of receiving affection in front of his family, but you figured that in a time where he was uncertain if his father would live or die, he would appreciate a little outward support. 

You laid your head on his shoulder and angled your body closer to his. Not expecting any response, you were surprised when Patrick kissed the top of your head. “I’m glad you’re here,” he told you quietly, his voice barely above a whisper, as if he’d be in trouble if someone overheard him. 

You held his hand as the two of you sat for hours, only getting up to stretch your legs or take phone calls from friends with insight on other high-end medical facilities that might be able to better accommodate Patrick’s father. 

You did your best to give Patrick his space when he needed it, as he floated between two of his siblings—one of which was focused mainly on the future of the company, and the other in a state of denial about the state of her father—then back to you when he could no longer stand the chaos of his sisters. 

It was a stressful scene, and one that was clearly too much for your boyfriend, who went back and forth between wanting to be glued at your hip, and wanting to be left completely alone. You’d seen Patrick stressed in the past, with him chatting your ear off as he waited for his candidate’s election results, or as he prepared to give a speech at an event, but you’d never seen him like this. 

He almost seemed fragile, like one wrong word or action might break him. It frightened you to see him in such a state. Again, you lamented not being able to take some of his pain for yourself. 

In the time that you waited without any word from any doctors, a few gears began to turn in your mind. Life was so fleeting, which was proven by Patrick’s mighty father falling so seemingly easily. Really, it could’ve been any of you sitting on that table with tubes and monitors attached to you. If it were Patrick who was sitting on that gurney, you would be an absolute wreck. If he somehow died, you also wouldn’t technically be a widow, despite your long-term relationship with the man. 

All of it made you wonder if you should just bite the bullet and propose to Patrick.

Sure, it wasn’t the best timing ever. Sure, you’d always imagined yourself being on the receiving end of a grand proposal, especially from someone like Patrick. But maybe he would appreciate the gesture—giving him a distraction to take away some of his pain, and giving him one final grand milestone with you while his dad was still alive. 

To a lesser extent, being married would provide you with certain protections you didn’t have while you were only his long-term girlfriend. Obviously, you didn’t want to think of anything bad happening to your boyfriend, but accidents and tragedies could happen at any point, and it was better to be prepared than to be sorry. 

It felt right that you might be able to join his family during a time where he was losing a family member. Not only for his sake, but because losing their patriarch meant unprecedented instability in his family. You wanted to be sure of your spot amongst them, after you’d grown used to the privileges that came with being Patrick’s girlfriend. 

You fidgeted with the ring on your middle finger, a family heirloom passed from generation to generation onto you. It was no expensive piece of jewelry, and it certainly wasn’t an engagement ring, but it was incredibly meaningful to you—a symbol of your family, which was extremely important to you. Patrick knew just how much you valued the ring and exactly what it represented to you, so in turn, you hoped that if you gave it to him, he would understand how much he meant to you. 

Getting up from where you’d been sitting for far too long, you began to pace the hallways of the hospital, wondering about the timing of your now imminent proposal. As you shuffled through the sterile building, you surprised yourself as you came across your partner. 

“Patrick!” you said with a start after unexpectedly catching a glimpse of him. 

“Hey,” he greeted unenthusiastically before beginning to walk right past you. 

“Wait,” you grabbed onto his arm before he could fully walk away, encouraging him to look right at you. It was now or never, and the words were on the tip of your tongue. 

“I’m sorry, I really don’t have time for this right now,” he dismissed, his voice monotone and listless. 

“You do, though. Patrick, listen,” he didn’t look like he was in the mood to talk, but was prepared to listen to you anyway. You knew you only had a few seconds to pitch your proposition before you lost him, so you spat out your words rather than beating around the bush. “Let’s get married.”

“What?” he looked at you with brows drawn in confusion. It wasn’t exactly the ideal reaction to your proposal, but then again it wasn’t much of a proposal. “Right now?”

“Obviously not now, but… soon?” as you spoke, you began the process of slipping the ring off your middle finger and attempting to present it to him in the palm of your hand. Sure, it wasn’t the most romantic or put together proposal, but it felt right to be offering him such a grand and personal gesture while everything else was going sideways in his life. 

“I know it’s probably not the best time, but I thought that maybe I could make things a little better with your dad and… I don’t know. I love you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. If something ever happened to you, I wouldn’t want to wonder about what we could’ve been and-” you rambled on before you were interrupted with a sigh. 

“Honey, you can’t just make my dad dying better,” he rubbed his temple exasperatedly, then looked between you and the ring you were presenting him with. “If you wanted to make me feel better, you should’ve just brought me coffee.”

You frowned at him, knowing that you’d offered him that very thing earlier and he turned you down. You wondered if your communication would ever improve—or if it even needed to improve, since this proposal was going so poorly that you’d probably leave the hospital single. 

“You’re right. I’m sorry,” you closed your palm and put your hand in the pocket of your jacket, fully prepared for Patrick to tell you to fuck all the way off. It had been stupid for you to think that Patrick would appreciate such a grand gesture during such a terrible time. 

“Wait,” Patrick stopped you, now reaching for your arm. “My answer isn’t a no, it’s just… I don’t want this to be the memory. Of course I’ll marry you.”

Doing all the work of getting your hand out of your pocket, he grabbed the ring you presented him with to further prove his words and slipped it on his ringer. It only fit halfway down his finger, but he kept it on regardless. 

“Really?” you said, suddenly perking up.

“Duh,” he replied, looking a little shy as his cheeks turned a light shade of pink and he briefly looked away from you, as if his feelings were so strong that he couldn’t even manage to look you in the eye. 

You couldn’t contain your excitement at his answer, jumping and squealing a little bit as you pulled him into an overly enthusiastic hug. You heard the familiar sound of Patrick laughing quietly in your ear as you squeezed him. Though he always seemed to hold back his emotions, you knew that he was just as excited as you were to be promised to one another.

You pulled him into a soft kiss, draping your arms around his neck, holding him as close as you could until he inevitably pushed you away. 

Patrick surprised you with how long he was willing to embrace you, clearly in need of a little bit of comfort after such an emotionally exhausting night. You surprised yourself when you ended up being the person to pull away. 

“Should we go check on our family?” you asked, not bothering to hide your excitement around finally being in. 

“I just need a second,” he told you, glancing down the hallway before pulling you into yet another embrace. He pressed his face into your hair, soothing himself with your scent and presence. You rubbed circles into his back and muttered something about him taking all the time he needed.

You were interrupted by one of Patrick’s sisters, whose voice called out your names down the hallway. “When you two are finished with your snuggle-fest, the doctor has news for us.”

“Wait, what?” Patrick pushed you away quickly, his tune changing in an instant.

“Good news, I think. But move your asses. C’mon,” she directed, already turning away and Patrick quickly following her. 

If you were experiencing an emotional rollercoaster, you couldn’t even begin to understand how Patrick was feeling. Finding out his dad was sick, being proposed to, and immediately hearing more news about his father in the span of just a few hours must’ve felt unreal. 

You sat quietly and observed from the sidelines as a doctor took them into their father’s room and filled in the siblings on the state of him. They all seemed to share a collective sigh of relief, and though you couldn’t hear the exact news from where you were sitting, you knew that it must’ve been good. 

When Patrick came back to you, he had a hint of a sad smile on his face. “Ready to go?” he asked you. 

He didn’t need you to ask twice. You were more than prepared to escape the too-bright lights, sickeningly sterile scent, and the feeling of sadness that seemed to be hanging in the air of the hospital. 

Your driver was a welcome sight, with him giving you a quiet greeting as the two of you got in the backseat of the car. As he drove, Patrick reached for your hand, which you gladly gave up to him. 

In the following minutes, Patrick crept over further into your space until he sat directly beside you, leaning his head on you with his eyes closed. The long day was surely taking its toll, with the anxiety of his dad being in such dire straits, and the excitement and confusion of you proposing to him. 

His sleep was well earned. You pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead, then closed your own eyes, letting the soft sound of the early morning city traffic lull you to sleep. 

In the following days, you could tell that something wasn’t quite right with Patrick. At first, you chalked it up to nerves around his father’s health, but that didn’t seem to be it. Typically, when Patrick was really anxious about something, his silence on the elephant-sized topic gave him away. While you’d heard quite a bit about the state of his father from him—whether it was an update sent to him by his step-mother or an actual visit to the man—you hadn’t heard a peep about your engagement since the day after you got engaged. 

On the other hand, you were struggling to keep the news to yourself, despite the request of Patrick. You wanted to scream the announcement from the rooftops, but in the early morning after you returned from the hospital, Patrick made his position very clear: Wait a little while for things to blow over before you started telling people– your friends and family included. 

Despite the fact that he wore your ring every day since the day that you’d given it to him, something about his behavior told you that it was that very ring that was giving him so much internal conflict. 

In the past few years of knowing Patrick, you learned that he was a bit of a control freak. You wondered how out of control it made him feel for you to be the person to propose to him. Part of you wondered if you should’ve even proposed in the first place if it was going to be an issue. Maybe you should’ve let him do things on his own timeline, rather than making him feel nervous or insecure in your relationship.

But at the same time, Patrick initially seemed rather entertained by the idea of you getting married. In the morning after your engagement, he couldn’t stop referring to you as Mrs. Zweig. At the desk of your brand new office, given to you after a serious promotion, you found a box of expensive chocolates with a note fondly referring to you as his fiancé. As you laid next to him in bed that night, he pulled up the profiles of three separate wedding planners and asked you about your preference in people. 

It almost felt like his feelings on your engagement were constantly fluctuating between being excited to be with you forever, and being terrified of that very commitment. Things weren’t made any better by Patrick’s professional-level ability to dodge questions, especially questions related to how he genuinely felt. 

“C’mon, you know how I feel,” he replied to you after you directly asked him over breakfast. He lifted his mug casually, subconsciously putting space between the two of you. 

“Pat, I don’t. That’s why I asked,” you forced out a laugh, though the situation wasn’t exactly funny to you. If Patrick didn’t want to marry you, you didn’t want to force him to do so. 

“But you always know how I feel,” he said with a bit of a pout and a whine—what you called his ‘let me get away with it’ demeanor that he often used with his family—before setting down his coffee and standing up. 

“Not this time,” you explained, standing up as well and abandoning the plate of half-eaten eggs in front of you. 

“You’ll figure it out,” he dismissed your concerns and stepped close enough to you to hold your face in both of his hands. 

“Love you?” you asked, hoping that if he could confirm that at the very least, you might have a better understanding of what was going through his head. 

“Of course,” he said genuinely, though he didn’t offer you any parroting of those words. Instead, he dropped his hands from your cheeks and kissed one of them. “Have a good day at work, okay?” 

“Yeah. Thanks,” you tried not to look as annoyed as you actually felt as you made quick work of grabbing your work bag and leaving. You needed some time to make sense of it all. 

The situation only became more complicated as you sat down in a conference room, mentally preparing yourself to make your first big presentation as the newly vetted Head of Parks and Cruises division. You cared greatly about what your peers thought about you, so you couldn’t deny the nerves running through your veins. 

These nerves only increased when you caught a glimpse of Patrick from the floor-to-ceiling glass windows of the conference room, shaking hands with people on your floor and clearly making cordial small talk. 

You desperately hoped that he was there to wish you luck on your presentation, and not to pick your conversation from the morning back up. You bitterly thought about how he couldn’t have picked a worse time as he waved at you from the window. You stiffly waved back, not exactly in the mood to be interrupted right before a big presentation. 

“Hey, if I don’t make it back for whatever reason, you can do this presentation, right?” you asked quietly, leaning into your newly-hired assistant’s ear. 

“Wait, what?” he asked you, brows furrowing. “I don’t know, I haven’t practiced or anything, and-“

“Perfect,” you replied, not listening to a single word he was rambling out. “Just read off the slides. You’ll be okay.”

You didn’t bother staying to listen to Art ramble in your ear about how he didn’t know what he was doing. Hopefully, he wouldn’t be the one presenting, and if he absolutely had to, he’d probably be fine. 

You shut the door behind you, politely waving at one of your co-workers as they entered the conference room. You made your way to Patrick and stood with your arms crossed against your chest, trying to strike a good balance between showing him how agitated you were, and not trying to further agitate your fiancé, who seemed to be in a particularly fragile mental state lately. 

“Hi honey, is anything important going on?” Patrick asked once you stood across from him. 

“Actually, yeah. Is there any way we could chat a little later? Like maybe an hour or two?” you suggested. “I can block some time off on my calendar for you and everything.”

“I’m sure whatever it is isn’t more important than this,” he glanced over at the conference room as he spoke to demonstrate his point. You wished you could explain to him how far that was from the truth.

“What is it?” you asked, your patience beginning to grow thin.

“You’ll have to see. Come with me?” he offered. 

“Patrick, I’m in the middle of a meeting!” you whisper-shouted, trying to keep your voice down and your body language mostly neutral, so your colleagues couldn’t observe how much you were freaking out as you talked to your partner. 

“It hasn’t started yet,” he dismissed casually. “They’ll be fine without you. I won’t be fine without you.”

You eyed him suspiciously. 

“Please,” he added, as if you’d ever be able to say no to him—though you were pretty tempted to do so. 

“Fine,” you gave in with a small, soft sigh. That didn’t deter Patrick at all, who seemed uncharacteristically excited as the two of you sat in the backseat of his car. 

“So where are we going? Or, what are we doing?” you asked, trying to ignore the terrible feeling in your gut that you felt about leaving your meeting. 

“It’s a surprise,” Patrick said coyly. “It’ll be more fun than that meeting, though.”

“I’m sure,” you replied, looking out the window. You hoped that whatever romantic gesture Patrick planned would be worth losing the respect of all of your peers. You wondered what you could tell them that would make your absence seem acceptable. Family emergency? It wasn’t exactly a lie. It wasn’t quite the truth either. 

When your ride stopped and you stepped out of the vehicle, you were surprised to find yourself at the diner that you spent the majority of your first few dates at, splitting pieces of pie and talking each other’s ears off for hours. 

“Craving some cherry pie?” you asked him curiously. Obviously, this seemed like a task he could’ve handled on his own, coming to the diner himself or having his driver buy and deliver him a whole pie, but you figured that maybe he was simply in the mood for some nostalgic comfort. In the midst of such chaos, you would be happy to give that to him. 

“It’s been too long,” he shrugged before grabbing your hand.

Patrick led you to the booth that you declared as yours all those years ago, and began to chat your ear off like normal. While you wanted to think about work, it was surprisingly easy to forget about the real world when you were in such a nostalgic place with him. 

The two of you ordered your old usual order, only enhancing the feeling of nostalgia as you shared a plate of painfully average pancakes and a slice of cherry pie.

“Ew, what is that?” you laughed after you bit into something hard and gross. “This fucking place,” you muttered, looking for a napkin that you could spit out whatever it was that you almost just consumed. 

When you glanced down at the napkin, you were shocked to find what looked like a metal ring covered in cherry syrup. “Oh shit. Do you think this belonged to someone?” 

Once you looked up, you were shocked to find Patrick holding a black velvet box, one that you’d seen before nearly a year ago as you deep-cleaned your shared bedroom, one that you chalked up as a gift for his mother or a friend. 

“Patrick?” you asked, clearly confused. He parroted your name right back to you and opened up the box, showing you one of the most beautiful rings you ever laid your eyes on. 

Suddenly, it made sense why he asked you to come out with him, interrupting you in the middle of the day to take you to a diner where you shared so many memories. Sure, he could’ve waited until you got off work, but you figured he was thinking about your conversation from the morning and wanted to do something that would show you how much he truly cared about you. He’d always been better at bigger gestures than verbally sharing his feelings, so part of you remained unsurprised. 

“I first fell in love with you here, so it only felt right to bring you back here to ask you to marry me?” he explained, not breaking eye contact with you. He was never one for a soapbox when it came to sharing his feelings, so his proposal was short and straight to the point. Though, you wondered if he had more words prepared that he simply couldn’t get out. Based on the speed of his leg bouncing under the table, you knew that Patrick was nervous out of his mind—despite him already knowing what your answer was. 

You recalled what Patrick told you in the hospital about not wanting your proposal to be the memory—the memory you told others about when you shared the news, or fondly recalled to your kids in ten years when you reminisced on your love story. 

If accepting his proposal now, and acting like his proposal was the only proposal made him feel better, you didn’t see any reason why you wouldn’t fully lean into it.

“Oh my god!” you exclaimed, genuinely being surprised at the offer, but playing up your excitement for the sake of your nervous fiancé. “Of course I’ll marry you, Pat.”

Patrick broke into a toothy grin, his excitement contagious to you. “Give me your hand,” he directed, taking the ring out of the box. 

He slipped the ring onto your finger, and it somehow looked even better on your finger than it did in the box. You looked at it in amazement curling and uncurling your hand to look at the ring from all of its angles. 

“It’s gorgeous, Patrick. Thank you,” you told him earnestly as you looked from your hand to him. You weren’t surprised by the quality of the ring or even that he found something that you liked so much. Growing up with lavish gifts constantly being given as an expression of ‘love’ made Patrick pretty damn good at giving you gifts. As for the other expressions of love… he wasn’t the best. But he was very obviously trying his best for you, and you loved that about him. 

In some ways, your proposals felt like the perfect encapsulation of your roles in your relationship. While you offered Patrick a ring with little monetary, but high emotional value, he gave you a ring that was probably more expensive than you could ever fathom, that didn’t have the same emotional ties that your family heirloom of a ring did. 

Beyond the appearance or symbolism behind your rings, and despite your very different proposals, you were ecstatic to be engaged to Patrick. It only felt right that after years of loving the man, you two were finally making things official in the legal sense. 

As you peered at your shyly smiling fiancé, you couldn’t help but break out into a grin yourself. You underestimated just how exciting it would be for you to be starting a new chapter of your relationship. 

[morganski-19]

The One Where Eddie Gets Another Job

Steve and Robin walk into the coffee house after work. Nancy, Jonathan, and Argyle already sitting in their spot. Robin sits next to Nancy on the couch while Steve flops into the armchair.

“How was the first day of school,” Nancy asks Steve.

Steve groans. “I have three Gabriels in my class and all of them want to be called Gabe. And two of them have a last name that starts with H. Then the fire alarm went off because Beverly decided that popcorn was the perfect lunchtime snack. Three moms tried to hit on me when I was doing car line, and I think one of the kids was sick. So that’s about to be spread around my classroom.”

“That’s,” she starts, trying to find something positive to say. “I have nothing, that sounds like shit.”

“I could never be a teacher,” Robin sighs into the couch. “I didn’t like kids that much to begin with. And after the things you tell me, never.”

“I don’t know,” Argyle pipes in. “It could be fun. And very rewarding.”

“I could totally see you being a kindergarten teacher,” Steve suggests.

The group does a vague nod in agreement.

“For anyone wondering how my day was,” Robin perks up. “I had a very nice conversation with this Italian man. He’s opening up a small bakery with his wife and wanted someone to go over the contracts with him. He’s bringing me some pastries as a thank you when they get up and running.”

The conversation about work continues for a bit, each of them sharing how their day was and destressing.

“Where’s Eddie,” Steve eventually asks. He’s normally here by this point.

Nancy starts laughing. “Oh just wait.”

“What,” Jonathan looks up from his laptop. “Did we miss something?”

“Like I said,” Nancy continues to laugh over her coffee. “Just you wait.”

Like speaking of him suddenly made him appear, Eddie walks out of the backroom of the coffee house. With an apron tied around his waist and a pencil behind his ear. He heads over to an empty table with a wet rag, wiping it down.

“Oh my god,” Robin whispers with surprise.

“Is that Eddie, working?” Argyle questions. “Here?”

Nancy nods, her laughter getting louder. “Yes.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen Eddie working,” Robin comments. “It’s like watching an animal out in the wild.”

“I can hear you, you know,” Eddie groans. Shoving the rag in his apron pocket and walking over.

Robin smiles. “I meant you to.”

“How long have you been working here?” Steve asks.

Eddie shrugs. “A few days now.”

“I thought you were working on being a tattoo artist,” Jonathan says. Taking a break from editing photos on his laptop to invest in this conversation.

“That I am. But I needed to shut down my Etsy page for art commissions, because people were being a bunch of dicks, so now I’m down one job. So I got another. Because rent is fucking expensive.”

Nancy makes a gesture with her hand. “And that’s with it rent controlled.”

Eddie makes a gesture toward her. “Also, I blew all of my savings moving out here, so I am trying to build those back up.”

“Aw, look at you being financially responsible,” Robin teases. Poking Eddie’s arm.

“You’re growing up,” Nancy eggs on. Feigning wiping away tears.

Eddie rolls his eyes. “You guys are the worst. I knew it was a bad idea getting a job here.”

“I don’t think I ever envisioned you being a barista,” Argyle notes. “Bartender, yes. Barista, no.”

“Well, I work the late shift too. So I am both of those things.”

“Oo,” Robin turns around on the couch. Standing on her knees to see him better. “Do you get a discount? Can we abuse it?”

Eddie shakes off her hand. “Yes, I get a discount, no you cannot abuse it. I sort of need this job, so I’d rather not get fired. It says strictly in the rules that I cannot use it for friends.”

Robin falls back down, defeated. “Boo, you’re no fun.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Eddie walks away behind the counter. Cleaning off the counter and starting to make someone’s order.

“I’m going to go get something to drink,” Steve says, standing up. “You want anything, Rob?”

“Just a green tea. Not feeling coffee right now.”

Steve nods while going over to the counter. Sitting down at one of the stools. “So, you work here now.”

“I thought that was already established.” Eddie hands off the drink he was making to the girl further down. Coming to stand in front of Steve.

“Is that why you couldn’t come over last night? You could have said that.”

Eddie shrugs. “I didn’t want you to know, quite yet. Thought you wouldn’t really like how much I bounce around jobs.”

“You’re not though. You have a job, you just needed a second one. No shame in that.” Steve leans further across the bar. “It also helps that I find bartenders to be really hot.”

“Steven,” Eddie gasps. “I am at work.”

Steve smirks. “I know.”

Eddie shakes his head. “Did you want anything, or are you just here to flirt with me?”

“Only if flirting with you gets me a discount. Otherwise, I’ll just take my business elsewhere.”

“Is that really all I am to you?” Eddie starts making Steve’s usual drink order. Waiting for the espresso to brew.

“And Rob wanted a green tea.”

Eddie nods, pouring some hot water into a glass and adding a tea bag. “How was work?”

Steve rolls his eyes. “Don’t even get me started. The first day is always hard.”

“Oh, I bet.” Eddie steams the milk, adding it to the top of the espresso and drizzling it with caramel.

“And I just can’t wait until I get to hear all of the single, and not so single, PTA moms throwing their cheap pick-up lines at me.” Steve says that with a leading tone. Hoping that Eddie takes that in the direction he wants it to.

Eddie slides the drinks across the bar. “That something they do,” he says, with a lilt of jealousy.

“Every year. Without fail.”

“Any way I can help with that?”

“Come over later and find out.” Steve gives him a flirtatious smile. “What do I owe you?”

Eddie waves his hand. “It’s on the house.”

“I was joking before. Seriously, what so I owe you.”

“And now I’m being serious. I get a free drink a day that I can give out to a friend, so consider that covering Rob’s, and then I am personally paying for yours.”

“What was it about needing to save up money?”

“That doesn’t apply to you, sweetheart.” Eddie leans over the bar a little bit, palms pressed into the edge of the counter.

“Steve,” Robin yells from the couch. “I thought you were getting us drinks.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “I’m paying next time, no arguments.”

“Whatever you say so.”

He walks back over to the group and hands Robin her tea.

Tag list (let me know if you want to be added or taken off) @slowandsteddie, @annieofhearts, @cacdyke, @ubpd, @captain--low,

@thespaceantwhowrites, @goodolefashionedloverboi, @anne-bennett-cosplayer, @lunaticparisianlady,

@apomaro-mellow, @dolphincliffs, @dragonmama76, @maggiebug417, @stevesbipanic,

@fearieshadow, @eightpackdiaz, @au79burger @bookworm0690 , @practicallybegging,

@potato-of-the-lord, @autumncrocusandladybug, @estrellami-1, @ilovecupcakesandtea, @gregre369

@my2amgaythoughts, @ellietheasexylibrarian, @emmabubbles, @eriquin, @grtwdsmwhr

@croatoan-like-its-hot, @dreamercec, @dreamy-jeans137

[strawberrystepmom]

pairing: Kenjaku x F!Reader, past Geto Suguru x F!Reader

word count: 3.6k

about: you become kenjaku's captive to ensure that he will not miss his opportunity to fight the strongest after his return from the prison realm. the temptation of being this close to the last remaining earthly fragment of the man you once loved, suguru, proves too much to resist and you give into your desires despite the hole they're bound to leave.

contents: NSFW - MINORS DNI. DARK CONTENT WARNING, MAJOR MANGA SPOILERS FOR CH 236 AND BEYOND | dubcon, manipulation, violence against reader, asphyxiation, kidnapping | reader is a sorcerer and went to school with geto and they had mutual feelings for one another, mentions of religion and references to god, kenjaku retained some of geto's memories and knows reader through them, reader has breasts and descriptions of vaginal anatomy are given, rough piv sex with little prep, reader is referred to as "girl", major character death (off screen).

notes: i've uh....been going through some things lately LMAO tbh i started this awhile back before thanksgiving but have felt weird about posting it and it very nearly stayed in the "between me and god" folder so i held back but today i said fuck it. if you read, thanks and i hope you enjoy!!!

header art is by jenny holzer and divider is by @/cafekitsune ♡

“The old occupant of this vessel was very fond of you, you know?”

How dare Kenjaku mention Suguru so casually, as if he were a tenant to his own flesh and bone instead of its rightful owner? 

“You know nothing about him,” The words are full of venom, flying from your mouth not unlike the way you spat at the curse user’s face two days prior to now. He chuckled when the fluid hit his cheek, wiping it off without a second thought. “Or me.” 

You felt so guilty for spitting at his face, the face of a man you once believed that you loved, that you wept until you began to dry heave atop the futon mattress in the room that has been designated as yours. It’s the same bed you rest on now, duvet over your knees that are hiked to your chest. It’s a means to protect yourself from any vulnerability but it’s truly no use. If Kenjaku wants to harm you, he will.

He has insisted your accommodations be comfortable since arriving three days ago given you are collateral and not a captive, his own clever wording for the situation, but you’re more than aware that if you were to attempt to escape from the cage that you’d hit the window just as all birds hungry for a taste of freedom do. There are no cuffs, chains, or bars but your freedom is no longer yours. It is a prize to be won pending the defeat of the man standing across from you in the doorway, shoji door open beside him, flowing hair as dark as the midnight sky brushing the backs of his elbows.

For years you wondered what you’d do if faced with Suguru again. Would you strike him, insisting he deserved it for all the hurt left in his wake? Ask him why in a scream so powerful your shoulders would shake with the weight of your fury? Perhaps you’d forgive him, as you’d been taught and encouraged to do your entire life, and those mumbled prayers cast to the God you believe in above you would be true for the first time since they’ve left your treacherous lips. 

“I forgive him, I hope you can, too.” You have begged God aloud and silently since sixteen years old. You have always been devout in your faith despite abandoning most of the tenets that make someone a believer, your lack of devotion not enough to deter you from selfishly asking for absolution for a man who you know deserves none.

God’s answer is clear when faced with the fact that this is not Geto standing in front of you. There is no less mercy a person can be shown than their body being used as a sick prop after their death.

The space where his thoughts and dreams and hopes used to lie is occupied by something far worse than just visions of a world purified through means of violence, a place where people like you could live without the threat of death and sacrifice to keep others safe. Granted, that wasn’t exactly a noble purpose either, but at least it didn’t threaten your life the way that whatever lives inside of his skull does now.

“I know more about both of you than you think.” 

Kenjaku’s words drip with smugness and your stomach flips. The natural responses of your body to a man who looks and sounds just like Suguru make you sick but you cannot focus on fighting them off and keeping yourself protected at the same time, you have to simply make peace with the butterflies in your stomach that feels like something is punching you in the gut over and over again. He dares enter the room and you scoot further up the futon, hitting the wall behind you and leveling a glare in his direction.

Suguru’s body reacts to you, as well, something that Kenjaku planned long ago to use to his advantage. It started with hazy dreams, a face he recognized as yours drifting through them, your thighs and your lips and your skirt. It’s a version of you a little younger, a little warmer - less edgy than you are now. You are sharp and finely tuned to harm while the version of you that lived in Geto’s mind will forever stay soft, a freshly unfurled rose.

“All you’ve done is vandalize him,” you accuse and he shrugs, dressed in a cotton yukata rather than the robes he stole in addition to the body they dressed. It’s easy to imagine another life where this is Suguru and you are you and he’s coming to your shared bedside, kneeling on the ground the same way Kenjaku is now while he invites himself to the only space you currently have as your own.

“You’re a smart girl, don’t play dumb.” Your glance moves from the doorway to him, disgusted by how brave he is getting this close to you. “Perhaps I’m simply using the power this body holds in the way he was too cowardly to attempt.”

Despite your current state of sitting in nothing but a yukata yourself, you are physically strong from spending the last decade of your life as nothing more than a glorified weapon to use in the fight against evil. Even if your Cursed Technique would be unlikely to have any effect on the man, you could be a difficult problem for him if you wanted to be, yet you sit and do nothing but wait and refuse to respond to his words. He chuckles at your stubbornness and reaches across the bed and your body to grab your chin between his thumb and index finger. He shifts your head until you’re staring directly at him and a smile crosses his lips.

You do not fight him off.

“Tell me, sorcerer,” he starts and you swallow, bottom lip quivering. You want to reach out and slap him away, to scream and kick but your body stays still, the only place blood is pooling between your legs and in the heat of your face. “Where are those teeth and claws you were so eager to show me on your first night here?”

He reaches his thumb upward and presses it against your mouth, stopping the shake with a single touch - your body’s natural reaction to a man you are now certain you loved, given it’s the only explanation for your behavior. It’s a form of trust, the muscle memory of a kiss he gave you in your dorm room at the school you once shared. The first night you were spitting and hissing, now you’re so placid.

“Nothing to say for yourself?”

Stubbornly, you shake your head and Kenjaku chuckles again, pulling his thumb away from your lip but maintaining the grip on your chin. You know this is not Suguru, it’s as clear as the stitches across the forehead of the practically empty vessel that further closes in on you. He moves silently until he’s mere inches away from you, his head hovering over your knees that are still pulled against your chest. You watch him with narrowed eyes, tucking against yourself tighter than you ever have as a means of comfort, but it does nothing to stop him from lingering.

“I could just make you speak if I wanted to,” he warns. The power in this situation belongs to him.

“What’s the point of fighting you? You’re going to do whatever you want with me anyway.” You admit, defeated. Whatever fight you had left in you was smothered weeks ago during the attack on Shibuya. Even the release of Gojo is not enough to fill you with hope for the future. It’s pointless to keep fighting when the only outcome is going to be loss.

The shaky sound of your voice makes the curse user move closer to you and you shut your eyes tightly, refusing to look at him lest your body continue with these inexplicable natural responses. Heart pounding against your chest, it’s inexplicably frustrating that it cannot seem to separate what your brain knows is true from what your body wants to believe.

It isn’t him, you scream within the confines of your own mind but it does not prevent your palms from feeling clammy and the squeeze of your inner thighs against each other to provide some relief against the heat in your core.

It isn’t him. It isn’t him. It isn’t him…

Chanting the words internally, you open your eyes and are met with a pair of golden ones staring directly at you. They’re the same that stared at you in a dorm room a decade ago although they’re missing the warmth they had back then, dripping honey sweetness hidden in the irises turned to tar. 

“You’re right, I can.” He nods and dark hair falls over his eyes, catching your eye. Your stomach turns when you spot the stitches across his forehead but your gaze returns to his so quickly you can hardly think about it. “But will it be what I want or is it what this body desires, I wonder?”

This piques your interest and Kenjaku tilts his head to the side inquisitively, dark hair sweeping over your knees and around your body. It feels like a curtain, a veil like the ones you are so used to using to keep people safe and ignorant and outside of your world of sorcery.

“What do you mean?”

A smirk is the response you are granted and he moves closer to you, one of his hands reaching for the duvet you’re using to cover you. Pulling it back gently, your robe covered body coming into view and once again, you make no effort to fight. With this barrier removed, he runs his palm over the outside of your thigh. Muffling your whimper at the touch, you attempt to hide your face in your shoulder but he stops you, still grasping onto your chin and still holding your gaze.

“Interesting.” 

His hand travels from the outside of your thigh to the insides and you gently spread them to allow him access before realizing what he’s searching for. Attempting to cut off his access by closing your legs, he holds your thigh in place and lets his fingers dip lower along the soft skin. You quiver and shake beneath him like a leaf clinging to the branches of a tree in winter, desperate for somewhere to remain, and those fingers inch closer and closer to your core. He stops when he feels the coarse hair covering your mound and dares to dip a single fingertip between your folds, raising his eyebrows when he feels the arousal seeping from you. 

“I knew it,” he whispers so low you wonder if you were even meant to hear it but the way he gazes at you, like that of a man starved, tells you that the words were meant for no one but you.

Your hand shakes as much as the rest of you when you finally lift it from your side, reaching out to him and taking a strand of hair between your fingers. It feels just as you imagined it would, silk between your digits, and a breathy sigh leaves you before you begin to cry. Dropping the small strand, you choose to reach out toward his forehead and use your hand to block the stitches covering it.

“Suguru.”

You babble the name like it is precious, your lip quivering just as it did before, and the evil man shakes his head, capturing your wrist with the hand he just removed from your chin. He lowers your hand enough that you can see the stitches unobscured.

“Kenjaku, actually.” 

He lowers your hand to his lips and kisses your knuckles, amused when you squirm where you sit, practically delirious with lust and confusion. You do not want this, at least that’s what you tell yourself while parting your legs further and panting, chest heaving with every breath.

Wordlessly, he uses his free hand to untie your robe and it falls off of your shoulders, exposing you to him fully before he can blink. This is something he remembers seeing in one of those dreams but you look different than whatever the imagination of a man who was infatuated with you was able to come up with during his loneliest hours. It amuses Kenjaku that he is the one to see you like this, bare and willing. 

Tracing down your belly and lower, he stops between your legs which makes you whimper. You’re so desperate to be touched, to pretend he is someone you’ll never have the opportunity to love as properly as you could have if you’d both lived a different life, that your hips actually arch off of the bed eagerly. It should embarrass you but you are past the point of humiliation, willing to be fucked by evil incarnate just for the sake of a taste of Suguru Geto.

“Pathetic little thing,” he coos and you say nothing in return. You’re well aware of your failings as a sorcerer and a human being as his fingers spread your labia to get a glance at what you have to offer. For a moment, you consider praying for Suguru again; to selfishly beg God to make sense of your own actions but you know that he no longer has mercy for an ill behaved member of his flock. You will simply accept the consequences, whatever they will be.

His thumb brushes your clit and you moan, tipping your head back and toward the ceiling. You wait for the sensation of pleasure to climb through you again but it doesn’t come until you look downward again, eyes fluttering open.

“Eyes on me or you get nothing.”

Too afraid to look away lest it keep you from the only good thing you’ve felt in who knows how long, you keep your eyes glued to Kenjaku’s face while his hand works between your legs, spreading the slick from your cunt toward your clit and back down. If you could just shut your eyes, you could pretend, but they’re open and glued between your legs, watching every feathery stroke of his fingers through your folds.

Kenjaku’s cock hardens against your thigh and for a moment you dare to feel powerful knowing you aren’t the only one surrendering to the most base of your needs. He drops your hand and reaches for the tie of his robe, opening it and giving you the only look you’ve ever been lucky enough to get of Suguru’s bare body.

Scarred, honed, a tool - just like yours. If you weren’t so lost in the moment, the lifetimes you have imagined for years would be playing through your mind.

You gasp and knit your brows together, bucking against the increasing pressure of Kenjaku’s fingers while he brings you back to him and out of your head. Whatever you’re thinking about doesn’t matter when he inserts a finger inside of you, only testing how wet you are with no intention of preparing you for his cock. 

When he’s satisfied with how wet you are, he withdraws his finger and you whine. The sound is the most he has heard from you since the first night and it makes his eyes widen in interest. He shifts until he is standing between your spread knees and the realization that this is really happening hits you at once, your face flaming with desire.

“You’re so impatient.” 

The curse user tuts at you with a roll of his eyes and spreads your legs as wide as they can go to accommodate the width of his body. He’s broad in shoulder and hip and you bite your lower lip when he runs the head of his cock through your folds, following the same pattern of his fingers. You expect the teasing to last longer but it stops abruptly. Before you can take a breath to prepare yourself, his cock is buried to the hilt inside of you, and you gasp with wide eyes, shocked. 

“As good as you imagined?”

Words come to your mind but do not form enough to leave your mouth while he thrusts roughly, your body jerking violently against his. It’s painful, the size of him with little prep in conjunction with how he uses your body as nothing more than a glorified place to take his aggression out, but all of the numbness within you thaws and for the first time since you realized Geto was no longer Geto in Shibuya, you feel. 

It’s hard to name all the emotions you are experiencing because they blur into something barely comprehensible. Pleasure and pain and bone chilling sorrow, the kind that makes tears silently drip down your face while he takes what he wants from you. He doesn’t bother to play with your clit and there is no need to, the joy you’re taking simply from being used by Suguru’s body enough that the knot inside of you is slowly beginning to unravel. 

Skin on skin punctuated by his low grunts and your whines fill the small room and you are so lost, you lift yourself halfway up to meet Kenjaku and consider kissing him. Would it be close enough to kissing Suguru that you could eventually justify it or would it just sully the one good memory you have of him? 

You don’t have long to think about it before you are pushed back down to the bed, one of his hands caging your throat and keeping you pinned to the bed below. A reminder that this is for his pleasure and not yours although you feel yourself coming closer to the edge than you were just moments prior, shutting your eyes tightly. All of the motion inside of you stops, the hard thrusts of his cock ending, and your eyes shoot open.

“Remember what I said. Eyes on me or you get nothing.”

Nodding, you keep them open and he begins again, pace rougher than before. You can do nothing but grunt and struggle to breathe, his cock carving out space inside of you that didn’t exist until he entered you. Every kiss of his tip against your insides knocks the breath out of you and finally you cum in a strangled moan, walls quivering around his length. 

His hand inches further up your throat and squeezes experimentally. As expected, you do not fight back and he takes his indulgence with a grin, choking you with varying degrees of pressure and feeling your cunt spasm around him when he surprises you by tightening his grip. 

You like this. You want this.

He leans forward and shifts his weight to his arm and hand, finally spilling inside of you with a deep moan. Warmth fills every inch of you and you wish that you felt as full in your heart as you do in your cunt but a void remains.

Kenjaku’s other hand slides up your body and wraps around your neck, both of his palms resting on either side of your neck and fingers splaying over your throat. It’s dangerous to let him have this much access to any part of you that he could possibly crush but you do not move, tearfully looking up at him and sniffling. He increases his pressure, not enough to harm you, but enough to make you work hard and you realize how easily he could just…end this.

“Please kill me,” you beg while struggling to breathe, realizing what you’ve done now that the afterglow of orgasm can no longer protect you from the cold hard truth. 

You are a betrayer. You slept with the enemy to sate your own selfish desires and death seems almost too kind to beg for, yet you do.

“Kill me.”

Your face turns in shade and your vision is dotted with darkness, a miserable end to a miserable life you consider, but at least it will be over. The pressure of Kenjaku’s hands around your neck continues to increase until you are certain you are taking your last breath, lungs aching until he abruptly stops. He glances down from where he rests above you, half swollen cock softening and letting his cum leak out around the tip of it that is still inside of you and onto the sheets below. 

“I will not give you the satisfaction of death until you give me the satisfaction of watching you fight for it.” 

Removing his hands from around your throat completely, he glances down at the pressure indentions of his fingers with a smile. Your eyes flutter shut, you’ve passed out from lack of air, and he admires the heap he has left you in, reaching for your robe and wiping the remnants of his release and yours on the corner of it.

Nobody is coming to save you, a secret Kenjaku knows that you are not yet aware of. Satoru Gojo is dead, defeated at the hands of Sukuna. The news broke this morning and he was preparing to come to your room to let you know until this little distraction occurred. He had an inkling you were susceptible to Suguru Geto’s charms even from beyond the grave but he had no idea it would be this easy, your slumped form resting on the futon beside him. He pats your head as one would a treasured dog, long and loving strokes that do not stir you, your bare breasts swaying slightly with every breath you take.

The new world is on the horizon and he may keep you around as a plaything for a little longer than he originally intended.

[lodisama]

RIDICULOUS (x.t)

xavier thorpe x reader (no pronouns mentioned)

summary: reader is wednesday's cousin, or rather, uncle fester's child. you have transferred to nevermore, and on your first week, you meet someone. this turns into forming a secret alliance wednesday can't know.

reader has the same powers as uncle fester (electricity)

Being around people who stare at you like your some animal zoo wasn’t really on my list, especially when they’re the same kind as you. An outcast or, a so called freak. I would’ve enjoyed this more if I did something terrible. But for some reason these people love peculiar blood lines.

I exit the door to the school indoors, and there I enter the quad. Where every student of monsters imaginable hang out. I loathe the gossips, but love the stares. Everyone turned their heads to me, then there was silence. I look around to muster in the atmosphere. It’s not that I think highly of myself. It’s just they make me feel highly than what they are. I felt a dark aura behind me, making its way next to me. I turn to my side, “Wednesday, my beloved cousin.” I turn my head back to the students, smiling, not at them but at her presence.

She has always made me feel wanted and seen, though we had different interests, she never failed to make me feel fit in.

“Y/n, it’s lovely to see you again.” Her hands clinged together, hanging down.

Her voice monotone, though I know her words were sincere. “How is the first week in this hellhole full of surprises?” She asked, sounding almost displeased. I sigh, not upset in any case. “Surprisingly good. Though my roommate appears to be a no-sleep enjoyer.” She hums, raising her eyebrows.

Silence fell after that, but then a familiar platinum blond, with colorful tips comes hopping our way. “Y/n, hope you don’t mind me borrowing Wednesday from you.” She smiles excitedly.

I return her kind smile, “No not at all, you may take her.” I see Wednesday look uncomfortable, but she let it happen. “Thank you!” Edin holds Wednesday by her shoulder, as they walk away to a bench. I walk to a pillar next to a wall art, standing beside the pillar. I felt electricity fuzz on my shoulder, making me flinch. I step back to see who it was

“What the…”— He looks down my size.—“Oh”

I hum, seeing the man. Tall, tall enough to be a tree, hair tied up, miserable eye bags, chiseled face. “No sorry? I apologize, I didn’t see you’s?” He raises his eyebrows, with a confused yet maintained calm tone. “Have you heard me say anything?” I respond, which he raises his eyebrows at this. He licks the inside of his cheek, muttering a silent Alright. He seemed used to it.

He turns around, and continued on painting the wall, the crow impressively detailed. He coated its background with a different shade of blue. I stare, blankly following his every move. “Please stop looking, I can feel your eyes,” The man lets out a breathy chuckle, still focused on the painting. My face hardens by the feeling of getting caught.

“My apologies.” I clutch on the bind of the book I was holding.

I didn’t give him time to say something, not that I was expecting him to. I turned around and went in a different turn of the quad.

Though I didn’t see it, he smiled unevenly when I apologized.

━ ━ ━✦❘༻༺❘✦━ ━ ━

"Do you know where it is?" Wednesday ask in a stern, yet eager voice. "Of course. Dad always told me stories about this school." Her eyes practically glew when I said that. "Will you please show me?" She blurted. "It's in that secret headquarters full of Nightshade wanna be's. " I slowly walk up the stairs, making sure my voice was low. She nods, satisfied with my answer. "I need you and Thing to get it for me. Weems has me on a radar right now." She stops next to the railings, looking at me. "Do you mind?" I smile at her, shaking my head a no "I don't mind , Wednesday". "Thank you." She whispers. As I look around, I saw Xavier looking at the both of us from the other side of the railings. My face turns stoic, as I inhale sharply.

"So I just snap two times?" I asked Wednesday. "Yes, you'll need this." She confirms, handing me a flashlight. Thing crawls on my shoulder, giving me a thumbs up. Got it I responded. I face the statue, snapping two times. The statue slowly moved backwards, revealing a spiral staircase on the right side. I checked to look at my back. Wednesday was already gone. I exhale, walking to the stairs, the dark room full of paintings and the smell of old books greeted me. I point my flashlight to the wall, seeing every painting of whom I assume to be the parents of these students, which I familiarly recognize.

Unfortunately my father, didn’t possess the academic aptitude to be here, but I am grateful to be filled with his knowledge about this school, and letting me experience it at least.

My whole body shivers in joy seeing the Nightshade logo on the floor. Pure ecstasy erupted in me. Finally happy to see one of the best stories my father has ever told me, right in front of me. I keep my pace slow, paranoid by the idea of getting caught, but either way, what bliss. I could feel Thing patiently waiting on my shoulder. Suddenly, I hear something shift behind me. I had the instinct to turn around and flash out electricity on my finger, not yet zapping the said noise. "Woah━ woah." The man raises his arms up in the air, moving backwards. "Xavier?" I say breathly, whilst my eyes wide open. I slowly lower my hand, the electricity disappearing on my finger tips. We both pause. A minute of taking heavy breaths. Now that we're all alone, under this dim light, he looks good. Genuinely good. His hair not tied up in a man bun was a foreign sight to see. He was the first one to break the silence. "What are you doing here?" Brows furrowed, voice shaky. I blink profusely, thinking of an answer. Usually I'm great with lying, even at the most unbelievable situations. But right now, I can't just discard him away or say that I was exploring the school. Fuck.

My mouth opens, then it closes again. "Exploring. I couldn't sleep." I say. I try to ignore his eyes. Clearly doubting my excuse. "How did you get in? Not many people can." He asks. I subtly smile "Do you think of me as stupid?" I muse, tilting my head. He stiffens in his position "No━I just━ Forget it, I'm sorry." He rubs the back of his neck. "No worries," I blankly say, hiding my laugh. My eyes look around the room, seeing the painting that hides the treasure Wednesday desires. I make my way to it, not caring that he was still behind me. "What are you looking for?" He follows behind me. "This is none of your business." I hold the side of the painting, opening it like a door. "What the hell.." He says in awe. I hadn't even realize it, but Thing was now nowhere in my sight. "Thing?" I call out for him. "Wait, what? What are really here for, Y/n?" His voice now serious. I inhale deeply in exasperation. Turning around, I fuse electricity on my finger, pointing it at him. "Dare to speak a word of this and I will electrocute you in your bath." I threatened, slowly walk towards him. He looks at the blue fuzzing thing on my finger. "Okay, I won't. What can I do to help?" I sigh in annoyance once again, and I think he got the idea, but still stayed. "I prefer to commit theif crime alone." Thing signed, agreeing with me. "Would you rather me tell on Weems?" It's his turn to threaten me now. Though it didn't do much. "She'll lose one of the most rarest outcast, then." I smugly reply. "Trust me no one here needs you," I could hear his smile through those words. I ignore him, and proceeded to do what I was told to do. "Thing, open the safe please." I ordered Thing, and like that he obliged. "Hey, I don't think we're supposed to open that safe." Xavier peers, concerned of some sort. "Then leave." I bent down to the size of the painting or rather, safe. It opened swiftly, revealing the book I needed. I softly gasp, grabbing the book. Flipping through the pages. The pages contain different kinds of beasts. The man behind me slowly made his way next to me, interested in my discovery. My eyes widen as I saw the beast my cousin has been obsessed with. "That's the thing I keep on dreaming about," His voice low. My brows knit together, turning my head to his face level. "You've seen this before?" I ask in curiosity. He nods, "Yeah. I've been drawing them too, it's been on my mind for so long. It's fucking me up." He covers his mouth, faltering his eyes at mine. There was a pause, but then I turned around to look back at the book. I sharply close it, emitting a sound. I grab my bag, putting the book inside. "Thank you, Thing." I looked at the moving hand. Thing crawls back on my shoulder, making himself comfy. "Y'know, you might get caught, right?" Xavier puts his hands inside his jean pockets. "Yes, and the idea excites me." I reply coldly. Xavier snickers at this. "Let's go before anyone notices we're gone." I said. He nods, letting me walk up the stairs first, his tall figure following me behind. We made it out the underground place, and I immediately turn to a different path, but I was abruptly stopped by a hand holding tightly on my wrist. I look at his hand and up at him. "What?" I ask. "Do you have a phone, or are you just like your cousin?" He chuckles lowly. I straighten my position, raising my eyebrows. 'I prefer to be old schooled." I replied. "Letters?" He breathed. Well he catch on quick. "Yes. Why?" pure confusion runs my head. "Expect letters under your door." He drops my hand, now pointing at me. "I'll be ready with a lighter to burn them." I muse once again. "Is that a yes?" He pushed further on. This boy is ridiculous. I nod slowly, I could see and hear his smile through the darkness. "Goodnight Y/n."

[dittanyinbloom]

Note Taking

Ominis Gaunt x fem!MC (there is only one gendered term in the very last line). 1.8k. No specific house. Fluff and a bit of MC embarrassing themselves.

Based on this post I made about having HoM with Ominis.

.💕✍🏻💕

“In today’s lesson, we will cover a truly thrilling event. . .,” Professor Binns had just started class, but half the students were already dozing off.

It was widely accepted that History of Magic was merely used as a free period. Whether that meant catching up on sleep or doing last minute homework for another class, one thing was certain: no one paid attention. Attendance hardly mattered since Professor Binns rarely ever engaged with the class directly. In fact, you would bet he didn’t even know a single students name or even the exact year. Everyday he floated into class, discussed whatever curriculum he felt like, then drifted off through the wall to his office at the end of the period without so much as a goodbye.

To say the least, it was no one’s favorite subject, that is, except you. Every Tuesday and Thursday, you practically skipped to your afternoon slot of History of Magic. With all the extracurriculars other professors sent you on, and the adventures you went on without their knowledge, you were elated to have time set aside for assignments and catching up on some sleep. Those horrible demiguise statues Mr. Moon asked you to find were really taking a toll on you lately.

Perhaps the most exciting part of class was that you didn’t share it with Sebastian Sallow. Now, he was a very lovely boy for helping you out on multiple excursions, but his presence could be intense at times. This could be simply fixed by spending time with your other friends. Natty, Poppy, and even Amit were great company and just as, if not even more helpful than Sebastian. But that boy had one thing drawing you back every day to meet up. .

Ominis Gaunt, Sebastian’s right hand man and arguably his moral compass. Oh, how you would spend hours practicing spells with Sebastian in the Undercroft for the smallest chance that Ominis would walk in to study, or have a chat, or sometimes even join in on the dueling. That was the only time you ever saw him without his school robes. Neatly folding up his sleeves and grinning like a mad man when he landed a blow on Sebastian, who as of late, rather deserved a few jinxes thrown his way.

History of Magic was the only class Ominis sat beside you in. It was hardly the place to make conversation since even the softest of whispers would be heard by the extremely bored students around you. Nevertheless, you were content with just sitting beside him and admiring his lazy smile as he drifted off into what was probably his fourth nap of the day.

That was one of the first odd quirks you had noticed about the boy. While you ran around the castle from one fool’s errand to the next, you often passed by Ominis lounging about on benches, windowsills, and most often the floor. Sometimes he was snacking or working on revisions, but more often than not the boy was merely napping, just out in the open, where anyone could step on him. The first few times, you had gently woken him up and offered to help him to his common room, but he always acted as though you were the strange one for not letting him sleep in the middle of a hallway in the Defense Against the Dark Arts tower.

Now whenever you saw him, you hummed in endearment and graciously covered him with your scarf as a makeshift blanket. You used to have an array of scarves, but now half of them were likely stuffed in a trunk deep in the Slytherin boys’ dormitory, never to be seen again. It was a small price to pay, in your eyes.

“Seb told me to tell you to meet us in the library after classes,” Ominis said as he leaned forward on the desk, getting in a comfortable napping position.

“Does he think you’re an owl?” You teased.

“Something about you being more likely to say yes if it comes from me.”

“I see,” you whispered, hoping he didn’t hear how flustered you had become. “So he’s scheming again?”

“You say again as if he quit to begin with.”

“Well, you know I can’t say no to an adventure.”

“Exactly why the two of you will be the death of me. Wake me up if anything crazy happens?”

Nothing ever would, at least, not while all the other students that usually caused trouble were sleeping as well. You dated your parchment for notes then began doodling to stay awake. As of late, the professors had been elated with your progress and stopped giving you so much extra work. Not much catching up needed to be done since most other students couldn’t take on a troll alone and live to tell the tale.

Your eyes wandered to study the pretty moles Ominis had scattered about his face and neck. The unhinged, love stricken part of your brain desperately wanted to draw little love hearts or flowers around them. Your fingers twitched, but you controlled your urges and drew hearts all over your notes instead. This was turning into a common occurrence. Most of your history notes contained one or two key points from Binns, a few random drawings, and many iterations of your deskmate’s name scribbled about. At the top corner of every parchment you would even write your name with his last name along with the date. And oh, how the two went so well together.

The period flies by while you daydream of holding Ominis’ hand or kissing his beauty marks as the two of you part ways. The sound of students scuffing their chairs in the worn wood flooring brings you back to reality. You tap Ominis on the shoulder. For a moment your hand lingers, drifting between his shoulder blades.

“Ominis, class has ended.”

“Already?” His voice was almost a whine which was strange because most students jumped at the opportunity to leave history class.

“Don’t sound too disappointed. Binns might offer to go on for another hour if he knows a student is willing to stay.”

You had one more class before meeting the boys in the library. Sebastian seemed to be awaiting your arrival, spotting you the moment you walked in, and waving you up to join them on the second floor. As you greeted them, you set your scarf and robes on the back of the chair.

“You really do need to come by our room and grab your scarves,” Sebastian commented. “They’re taking over.”

“Hmm, yes. I am missing quite a few at this point.”

The culprit, though it wasn’t entirely his fault since you were the one always covering up his sleeping form, went pink at the mention of scarves. Despite looking as though he wanted to add to the conversation, he quickly went back to writing the twelve inches for Sharp’s latest assignment.

“So, Sallow, why have you dragged me here today? Are we going treasure hunting again?”

“Sorry, little adventurer, today’s request is rather boring in comparison. Thought it would be a good time to start revising for O.W.L.s, and I need help in History of Magic. I’ve managed to fall asleep every single period since the start of term. . Quite impressive if you ask me.”

“Don’t know why you thought to ask me. I hardly pay attention in that class.”

Sebastian tilted his head to the side, frowning in confusion. “But, Ominis said he can hear you writing notes all period.”

Your eyes flicker to Ominis almost in a look of betrayal. He seemed as focused as ever on writing, either exuding an excellent poker face or genuinely not showing any interest in being mentioned by Sebastian. Quickly, you swallowed down your own emotions and insisted, “Well, sorry. My notes for that class are very scattered. I mostly just draw to keep myself awake.”

“Anything would help. I honestly don’t even know what we’re meant to be learning about. Nellie heard there might be a quiz next week. My uncle can not hear about my grades slipping on top of everything else.”

Seeing the innocent look of terror on Sebastian’s face made you melt a bit. In his defense, he didn’t know you made a fool of yourself by doodling his best friends name across your parchment twice a week. He was just asking for notes, which was something the three of you often shared.

“I can. . read them to you?” You compromised.

Both boys gave you an odd look, but Sebastian agreed without much hesitation given how desperate he was.

“Suppose I should be writing this down too, if there really is a quiz coming up,” Ominis said with a grimace.

You unrolled your parchment and began to read. Both boys studiously jotted down every word. Hopefully you were explaining everything accurately. There were clearly periods in your notes where you had dozed off between key moments, but unless Binns was looking for his exact wording on the quiz, the three of should should be able to pass.

“It’s with an ‘A’, Grimbald, not Grimbold,” Ominis said out of the blue.

“Thanks,” Sebastian muttered as he went back to add a flick of ink to his ‘O’. He seemed unbothered but Ominis’ correction. You, however, were too tongue-tied to continue reading. Sebastian frowned at the silence and finally looked up at you. “Is there not more?”

“How. . ?”

“Oh!” Realizing your confusion, Sebastian was quick and rather proud to explain his best mate’s ability, “Ominis can hear the letters, or, dunno really. You explain it better, Ominis.”

Suddenly, Ominis went ridged like he had been caught in an act. “When the room is quiet enough, I can pick out the sounds of a quill or chalk on the board. Letters all have a distinct cadence to them. Some sound too similar to be distinct like ‘b’, ‘d’, and ‘p’, but I can make an educated guess.”

“So you can hear what people are writing?”

“Precisely!” Sebastian spoke up with a wide smile. “Brilliant, isn’t it?“

“It is. . quite the talent, Ominis.”

“Thank you.”

You cleared your throat and went on with the lesson. Just because Ominis knew Sebastian’s penmanship did not mean he had your memorized, or that he even listened in the first place. After all, he slept through every class, and you weren’t bold enough to write his name in such a way while he was awake.

Still, knowing of his ability left you wary. The next time you sat with Ominis in history class, you were meticulous with your note taking. No doodles, no love hearts, no childish name writing. Those days were over. They had to be because if Ominis somehow didn’t already know about your embarrassing crush, you were not going to give him the opportunity to find out.

This time when you wrote your name and the date at the top of the parchment, you used your own last name. After that was finished, you moved on to title it “The Goblin Rebellion of 1752”, but you hadn’t gotten past “The” when a hand landed on your knee.

Warmth spread across your thigh while chilling nerves sprinkled down your spine. You nearly fell out of your chair at the touch, causing Ominis to squeeze down harder, keeping you firmly in your seat.

“Ominis?”

He almost seemed angry, but he kept his voice a low whisper for only you to hear, “What do you think you are doing, Mrs. Gaunt? Title your notes appropriately.”

~You can find part two here~

[nanamis-baker]

The Bold Stroke

Chapter 2 | Whisper of the Petals

Pairing: philosophy student Geto x art student f!reader (College AU)

Summary: A mystery blooms on your doorstep. A breathtaking bouquet of white flowers, a silent whisper of apology… but it's not for you. Delivered under the name of a man so handsome he takes your breath away, the mix-up sets your heart racing.

Fate seems determined to keep throwing you together, and soon you're caught in a whirlwind of chance encounters and undeniable chemistry. It was almost as if it was trying to bring you together.

Content: Fluff | slow burn | Light angst (I am not sure) | Mention of scars and accident | Mention of family issues | Reader falling for Geto | Geto being a gentleman but also a big big idiot.

Status: Ongoing

Word Count: 10.2k

a/n: okayy it's here!! This chapter took me a while to write because writing conflicting emotions is something new for me lol.

But a big big bigg thank you to my girl @whereflowerswenttodie for reading and rereading it and helping me out with it!! 💙

← Prev. Chapter | Series mlist | Next Chapter →

“So, are you meeting up with someone?” you asked Inumaki as you fixed your hair a little, the elevator mirror being perfect for it. The two of you were going to the library. Well, you were going to the library, and Inumaki had some work on the same floor, so he accompanied you.

Inumaki nodded, a small smile gracing his lips as the lift opened with a ding. The two of you went separate ways, waving each other goodbye as you went into the library. But as soon as you entered, your legs halted. What you saw was… unexpected, to say at least.

The library had transformed into a bustling marketplace of stressed students. Every table, including yours and Suguru's usual spot, was now occupied by unfamiliar faces. The studious quiet you'd craved was replaced by murmured arguments, frantic typing, and the occasional frustrated groan. This wasn't exactly how you'd envisioned making the presentation format with Suguru.

You had texted him earlier about the presentation format, but there was no way you could get any work done in this chaos. What could you do now? And what other option did you have? You could go to the cafe but-

Just then, a warm hand settled gently on your shoulder. You whirled around, heart leaping into your throat, only to find Suguru standing there, a soft smile playing on his lips.

"Sorry, didn't mean to startle you," he chuckled, his voice soothing amidst the library's chaos. You shook your head, the disappointment momentarily forgotten.

"No worries," you managed, forcing a smile. "But seriously, what do we do now?" You gestured towards the library, the silent question hanging heavy in the air.

Suguru's smile faltered, replaced by a knowing frown that mirrored your frustration. "I kind of expected this," he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Apparently, a bunch of students submitted the same assignment, thinking they could fool their teacher."

A flicker of surprise shot through you. "The same assignment? How did you…"

"Long story," Suguru interrupted with a wry smile. "Let's just say the rumour mill at this school is efficient." He paused, his gaze flickering around the library before landing back on you. "The good news is, I might have a backup plan."

You raised an eyebrow, curiosity flickering in your eyes. "A backup plan, huh?" The unexpected turn of events had certainly piqued your interest.

Suguru chuckled, a hint of mischief dancing in his dark eyes. "It is a Top secret," he declared, smiling to himself. "But trust me, it's worth it." He reached for your bag, gently relieving you of the weight. "Just promise me you won't breathe a word of it to anyone."

"Can't guarantee anything until I know where we're going," you teased, the disappointment at the ruined library session fading with each passing moment.

Suguru grinned, a playful glint in his eyes. He reached out and gently grasped your arm, the warmth of his touch sending shivers down your spine. Suddenly, the crowded library seemed miles away as Suguru led you on a detour.

The corridors twisted and turned, a confusing maze that would make recalling the route later impossible. You found yourself relying on Suguru's confident strides, a comfortable silence settling between you broken only by the rhythmic click of your shoes against the polished floor.

Finally, you arrived at a seemingly nondescript wall, the only hint of something unusual was a small, silver panel nestled discreetly within the plaster. Suguru pressed a button, and with a soft whirring sound, the elevator door slid open.

Your eyes widened in surprise. You had no idea this elevator even existed!

Suguru stepped inside, beckoning you to follow. It was a maintenance elevator, you realised. The cramped space barely accommodated the two of you comfortably, and the close proximity did little to deter you. He punched in a series of numbers on the keypad, and with a slight jerk, the elevator began its ascent.

"This elevator," you began, looking up at him, unable to contain your curiosity any longer. "How did you find it?"

Suguru chuckled, a sheepish grin spreading across his face as he looked down to meet your eyes. "Let's just say Satoru and I stumbled upon it during an… 'unforeseen circumstance'?" He rubbed the back of his neck, a blush creeping up his cheeks at the memory. "Someone was rather displeased with us - him, actually - at the time. Finding this secret elevator was a happy accident." His gaze lingered on the keypad, “And figuring out the pin wasn’t difficult, especially when Satoru is with you,” He finished, smiling fondly at the memory. You found yourself smiling too.

The elevator came to a halt, the familiar ding echoing in your ear. With a sense of anticipation, you watched as the doors slid open, revealing a sight that took your breath away. No longer confined by the walls of the library, you found yourself standing on a rooftop terrace bathed in the warm glow of the late afternoon sun.

The sky stretched out before you like a canvas splashed with luminous hues of apricot and peach, with a hint of purple, the sun beginning its descent towards the horizon. Below, the sprawling campus unfolded like a miniature world, with buildings and pathways etched in the golden light. A gentle breeze ruffled your hair and caressed your skin, carrying with it the scent of drying leaves, with a hint of muskiness.

For a moment, you were speechless, captivated by the unexpected beauty that lay before you. Turning to Suguru, you found a wide grin plastered across your face.

"So this is what you meant by 'Top Secret'?" you exclaimed, your voice brimming with excitement.

Suguru chuckled, a hint of pride in his eyes. "Yeah," he admitted, nodding confirmation. "This place is a bit of a hidden gem."

His gaze swept over your face, searching for your reaction. "Do you like it?" he asked, his voice soft.

"Like it, Geto?" you repeated, the question almost comical. "I absolutely love it!"

This secret terrace, bathed in the warm glow of the setting sun, felt worlds away from the unexpected chaos of the library. It was a private sanctuary, a place just for the two of you.

A satisfied smile spread across Suguru's face. "Good to know," he murmured, his voice barely a whisper. He gestured towards a nearby bench, its weathered wood and faded brown paint promising a comfortable perch. "We should have plenty of light for some time now - enough to complete that presentation, at least."

Grateful for his thoughtfulness, you readily took a seat on the bench. Suguru settled himself beside you, the air crackling with newfound energy. "Perfect!" you declared, clapping your hands together. "Then let's get started."

The sun, it seemed, had a favourite today. You sat beside Geto, bathed in the warm glow of the late afternoon light, as it casted a golden halo around you. He found himself mesmerised, his gaze drawn to the way the light danced on your skin, turning it a canvas of shimmering bronze. Each flicker in your eyes held a spark more captivating than any gemstone, a tiny fire that seemed to ignite a warmth deep within him.

A golden aura surrounded you, and in Geto's eyes, you became the most exquisite treasure the world had to offer.

He struggled to focus. Every few moments, his gaze would snag on the way the sunlight danced in your eyes, igniting a flicker that stole his attention. Geto found himself mumbling a request for you to repeat yourself. Surprisingly, you didn't seem annoyed, simply repeating your point with a gentle smile.

You intrigued him – a captivating puzzle he couldn't seem to solve. Your thoughts, a fascinating mix of unexpected angles and surprising echoes of his own, kept him constantly engaged. During discussions, you'd throw out a witty remark that had him stifling a laugh, a sharp observation that made him see the topic from a whole new perspective. He'd marvel at the way your mind effortlessly weaved humour and insightful analysis, a combination that felt refreshingly unique.

There was a depth to your intelligence that went beyond mere academic prowess. You possessed a genuine curiosity about the world, a thirst for knowledge that mirrored his own. He found himself drawn to your passion, the way your eyes would light up as you delved into a subject that truly interested you. It was as if you held a mirror to his soul, reflecting things he hadn't even realised were there.

The more he interacted with you, the more he realised how much he craved your presence. It wasn't just the conversations; there was a spark between you, an undeniable chemistry that left him both exhilarated and strangely vulnerable. He found himself wanting to impress you, to share his thoughts and ideas in the hopes of eliciting another one of those dazzling smiles.

"Okay!" you said, a triumphant smile lighting your face. The last rays of the setting sun cast a warm glow on the terrace, painting the cityscape in hues of lavender and gold. "We are done now," you declared, gathering your things. You turned to him, and your smile was even brighter, “Suguru, I can’t thank you enough for your help with this - I couldn’t have done this without you” Gratitude and sincerity shone brightly in your eyes, but that wasn't what held his attention.

Suguru. You had called him by his first name. It was a simple gesture - you probably didn't even realise it - yet it resonated within him like a physical touch. The sound echoed in the twilight, a melody far sweeter than the chirping crickets. He craved to hear it more and more.

"You don't have to thank me again and again, you know?" he managed, his voice a touch rougher than usual. He cleared his throat, hoping to dispel the unexpected feelings that bloomed within him. "I enjoyed working on this project too," he added, hoping to convey his sincerity. It was true – it had all been stimulating for him. But a deeper truth lurked beneath. He enjoyed simply being near you - in your presence.

A pang of sadness, sharp and sudden, twisted in his gut. Here he was, enjoying the afterglow of a shared experience, yet a looming shadow threatened to engulf it. The project, the reason you were here with him, was done. When would be the next time the two of you see each other? Would you, like the last rays of the sun dipping below the horizon, simply slip away too?

The weight of his unspoken thoughts pressed down on Suguru as you walked towards the elevator. The last embers of the sun had faded, leaving the sky a canvas of deepening indigo. As he reached to press the button, blinding darkness swallowed the world whole, leaving him momentarily disoriented.

"What happened...?" He heard you murmur, a whisper lost in the sudden quiet. Suguru turned towards your voice, his eyes straining to adjust to the absence of light. He found you, a faint silhouette framed by the faint glow of the rising moon.

Concern flickered across him. He couldn't see you clearly, but he didn’t miss the slight tremor in your voice. He gently grabbed your hand, his fingers interlacing with yours, hoping to calm you.

Needing to confirm his suspicions, he took a tentative step towards the railing and peered over. Darkness. Not just the terrace, but the entire university grounds were shrouded in an inky blackness. The distant hum of activity that usually filled the evening air had been replaced by an unsettling silence.

"There seems to be a power cut in the area," he replied gently, his voice sounding hollow in the darkness. "But don't worry, we should have power back soon." He said, but for some reason, he had a hard time believing his own words.

"Can we use the stairs or something?" you asked, the slight tremor he had heard in your voice earlier was still there.

"Unfortunately, no," he sighed. "Satoru and I found it earlier, but they are blocked - inaccessible."

You didn't say anything, but Suguru heard a small, defeated 'Oh' escape your lips.

"But don’t worry, we can go and sit on the bench?" he offered, trying to shake away your worries. He could see the outline of the bench as his eyes had started to adjust to the darkness.

"Yeah, let's go," you agreed. As he guided you towards the familiar wooden seat, he felt your hand tighten around his, drawing his attention towards you.

Suddenly, you stopped, your voice tinged with awe. "Suguru, look up!"

He followed your gaze, tilting his head back. And then he saw it. The unexpected darkness had stripped away the veil of artificial light, revealing a breathtaking spectacle he hadn't even realised he'd been missing. A vast expanse of midnight blue stretched above them, a canvas sprinkled with a million shimmering diamonds. The stars. So many stars, each one a tiny beacon in the infinite darkness.

The darkness, once unsettling, now felt strangely beautiful. He stole a glance at you, your face bathed in the ethereal glow of the starlight, a look of wonder mirrored in your eyes. Maybe this wasn’t a bad thing.

Not at all.

An unexpected idea sparked in Geto's mind. He gently released his hold on your hand and reached for his jacket. He knelt, spreading the garment on the cool ground, making sure it was properly spread out.

"Here," he said, a soft smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he looked up at you. He could see you better now, bathed in the faint moonlight, and a flicker of curiosity played across your features.

"What are you doing?" you asked, And Geto could hear the amusement in your voice.

"Come on," he said, extending out his hand, offering it to you in the dimness. "This way we can see the stars better, without straining your neck."

Understanding dawned on you, and a delighted smile spread on your lips, mirroring his own. Taking his hand, you allowed him to gently guide you down onto the makeshift blanket his jacket provided. A warmth spread through him as the two of you settled on the jacket, laying down side by side. Geto could feel the heat radiate from your body against his arm.

A comfortable silence descended, punctuated only by the occasional chirp of a cricket, a sound that seemed louder than usual in the quiet. Geto kept his hand intertwined with yours, the warmth of your skin a surprising comfort against his. His thumb, as if possessed by a will of its own, began tracing lazy circles on your palm.

Stealing glances at your face, bathed in the ethereal glow of the moon, Geto searched for any sign of unease, a flicker of disapproval that might suggest he had crossed a line. Thankfully, he found none.

"Suguru?" He heard you say, your voice, soft as the night breeze. He turned his head slightly, meeting your gaze in the dim moonlight.

"You know," you began, a playful glint dancing in your eyes, "you never really told me why you were nose-deep in all those business books in the library that day."

A surprised chuckle escaped Geto's lips, despite the topic you were referring to. "Yeah? And you never told me why you chose to drown yourself in the world of arts," he countered, his voice betraying a hint of the unease he felt.

You let out a laugh, the gentle sound echoing in the dark. "Well, you never really asked!"

"But I am asking now," he countered, amusement dancing in his voice.

"Okay, okay," you said with a grin. "Fair enough. First, you answer my question, and then I'll answer yours. Deal?"

Geto hesitated for a beat, the darkness both a shield and a prompt. So Geto had to offer a part of himself to get to know you better - sounds interesting "Deal," he finally agreed.

You looked up at him expectantly and taking a deep breath, he decided to be honest. "The thing is," he began, trying to hide the disgust he felt about this topic, "those business books weren't exactly what I wanted to be reading. You see, my family owns a pharmaceutical company, one of the biggest in the country."

"Oh wow," you said, a hint of surprise in your voice, “I didn’t know that.”

"Yeah," he said, a humourless scoff escaping his lips. "They expect me to join the business after graduation. Here's the real thing though," he continued, feeling his voice drop low, "They see me as a puppet, someone to inherit their greed and continue their ruthless practices."

"What kind of practices?" he heard you ask, concern flickering in your voice.

He felt his jaw clench slightly, the darkness a welcome shroud for the anger simmering within him. "They price their life-saving drugs at exorbitant rates," he spat, the venom of his words sour on his tongue. "People who desperately need them can't afford them, all because of my family's insatiable thirst for profit. It goes against everything I believe in."

A heavy silence descended. He stole a glance at you, unsure how you'd react. But your expression was open, devoid of judgement, and held a flicker of understanding. It was an unspoken invitation to continue, a safe harbour for the storm of emotions brewing within him.

"They wouldn't listen to reason," he continued, his voice low and defeated. "I've tried, believe me. But logic and compassion seem to be foreign concepts in their world." But still, Geto had to do something right? "Maybe, just maybe, by learning their game, I can break this system and change it from within. But honestly," he admitted with a bitter laugh, "I don't even know if that's possible. Their control is absolute."

The darkness seemed to press in on him, a reflection of the despair that threatened to consume him. He yearned for a way out, a way to break free from the gilded cage his family had built for him.

Your hands squeezed his, bringing him back to the present. "That's a lot to carry," you finally said, your voice soft but firm. "The anger, the frustration, the feeling of helplessness." You paused, letting your words sink in. "But Suguru," you continued, your voice gaining strength, "don't let them steal your compassion, your beliefs. As long as you hold onto them, you’ll find a way. I know you will”

Geto smiled. You were so sweet, so kind, trying to comfort him. It was a small, tired smile, the kind that held the weight of the world but acknowledged a sliver of sunshine breaking through the clouds. Your words, laced with a quiet strength, resonated deep within him. It was true. He couldn't let their greed and corruption taint the core of who he was. But, at the same time, he knew it wasn't wise to hope for much when it came to his parents. Still, he wouldn't burden you anymore with his issue. Maybe a lighter topic would chase away the shadows that had crept into the conversation.

"You're right," he said, his voice regaining a touch of its earlier playfulness. "Now, answer my question from earlier." He raised an eyebrow in mock seriousness, hoping to lighten the mood.

He saw you smile, but it wasn't your usual, happy smile. A faint shadow flickered across your features, a subtle shift in your demeanour that sent a wave of unease through him. "I was in a car accident a few years ago - both my mom and I," you said, your voice softer than usual, your fingers twisting a loose thread on your shirt.

The playfulness drained from his face. An accident? The image of mangled metal and shattered glass flashed unbidden in his mind. "Oh," he stammered, unsure of what to say.

"Another car crashed into ours," you continued, your voice barely above a whisper. "The driver was drunk. Thankfully, the major impact was on my side, so my mom wasn't hurt too bad."

This wasn't what Geto was expecting to hear. He watched as you reached for your phone, a hollow feeling blooming in his chest. With slightly trembling fingers, you lifted the hem of your jeans, the phone's cool flashlight revealing a constellation of scars that snaked across your calves. Geto's mouth went dry.

You turned towards him, a flicker of vulnerability in your eyes. Hesitantly, you reached up and brushed a stray strand of hair away from your face, revealing a faint scar that traced a jagged line along your hairline and the back of your neck. The moonlight glinted off the raised, pale flesh, a contrast to the smooth skin surrounding it.

Geto thought he had memorised the expanse of your face, every little detail like the map of a cherished land. But god, was he wrong. He had missed such a big part of you.

Shame washed over him in a sickening wave. He'd been so caught up in his own problems, that he hadn't noticed the silent stories etched across your body. His fingers moved to trace the scar, to feel it under his fingertips, but retracted his hand before it could reach you.

You continued, your voice quiet, "I was bedridden for months, Suguru. I couldn't even speak because a shard of glass had damaged my vocal cords. Hell, I wasn't even supposed to survive, but I did." You let out a humourless chuckle. "I could barely move, I couldn't speak at all, and the frustration – I can't even begin to tell you." You shook your head slightly, a ghost of the ordeal lingering in your eyes.

"My parents were worried, you know, and that's when I started painting," you continued. A small, bittersweet smile touched your lips. "It was horrible at first, of course," you added with a self-deprecating laugh, "but with time, I got better. It became my voice, a way to express the things I couldn't say. Even after I healed, I kept up with it. I wanted to know more – about other people's work, their thought processes, and why they painted what they painted. And so, I chose art as my major." You finished with a shrug as if it wasn’t a big deal or anything.

Geto didn't really know what to say. Words felt hollow compared to the weight of your story. "Does it still hurt?" he asked, the question tumbling out before he could stop it. He mentally face-palmed himself. Really? That was the best he could offer? It sounded insensitive, trivial even, in the face of what you'd been through.

You offered a small, understanding smile. "Sometimes," you admitted. "Not the scars themselves, thankfully. But half of my body is metal now, thanks to the accident. That gets achy sometimes, especially when the weather gets cold." As if on cue, a cool wind rustled through the leaves, and Geto saw the way you flinched so slightly, a shiver running down your body.

Geto's heart lurched. He cursed himself for his obliviousness. Here he was complaining about his family, while you carried the physical and emotional weight of a traumatic experience. Without thinking, he shifted closer, offering you the meagre comfort of his body heat. "Here, let me shield you from the wind a bit."

A warm smile graced your lips as you leaned into him slightly, accepting his support - accepting him. The gesture ignited a spark within Geto, a warmth blossoming in his chest that rivalled the one he offered.

Geto's fingers, which had hovered awkwardly in his lap, found themselves drawn to you again. This time though, they didn't hesitate. With tenderness, they brushed against the cool expanse of the scar on your temple, then trailed down to the faint jagged line along your neck. Your skin felt cold under his warm touch.

You inhaled sharply, your breath catching against his chest. Geto's touch was light, almost reverent, as if he were tracing a sacred map. He met your gaze, the moonlight and stars reflecting in your eyes like a million scattered diamonds. At that moment, it felt like he was peering into a whole new universe, one filled with unspoken stories and hidden depths. A universe he desperately wanted to explore, to get lost in, and maybe, just maybe, find a way back to, together.

His thumb grazed the soft skin of your jaw, a gentle nudge that tilted your face up a fraction. He wanted to see everything, to re-learn every detail etched on your face, the scars, the way the moonlight glinted off the moisture gathering in your eyes. He wanted to learn all your secrets, or at least the ones you were willing to share.

You responded instinctively, leaning in further until the space between you evaporated. Your warm breath mingled with his, a silent question hanging in the air. The stars seemed to wink in approval as the distance between your faces continued to shrink. Anticipation flickered in your darkened eyes, which then fluttered shut as Geto leaned in even closer. Slowly, the space between his lips and yours became nonexistent, a mere breath away.

Just as your lips were about to meet in a brush, The world erupted in a harsh burst of fluorescent light. Both of you jolted back, blinking away the temporary blindness.

It took Geto a moment to realise what had happened. He cleared his throat, the sound rough in the sudden quiet. "We got the power back," he mumbled, his voice thick with the unspoken desire that hung heavy in the air moments ago. His gaze darted away from you for a moment, then returned, searching your eyes for any indication of how you felt about the interrupted moment.

He took in your flushed cheek and your dilated, glossy eyes. That was all the indication he needed. A small, frustrated sigh escaped your lips. "Yeah," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. The moment, the intimacy between the two of you, was shattered like a dropped glass, leaving behind a thousand shimmering shards of unspoken desire.

The silence stretched, heavy with what could have been. Geto watched as you began gathering your things, a subtle shift in your demeanour that spoke volumes. You turned to face him, a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of your lips despite the lingering frustration in your eyes. "We should go now, it's getting colder."

He nodded in agreement, his voice thick when he finally spoke. "Yeah, definitely." He grabbed his jacket and dusted it off, the simple action taking longer than necessary. He watched as you reached for your bag, then blurted out, "Here, let me get that," as he grabbed the bag, relieving you of the weight. It was the least he could do, anyway.

Geto had spent hours with you today, yet it felt like mere moments. "Let me walk you home, please," the words tumbled out before he could stop them, fueled by a desire to prolong this stolen time, this unexpected intimacy.

He held his breath, bracing himself for a polite refusal. But then, a bright smile bloomed on your face, a smile that lit up the terrace brighter than the harsh fluorescent lights that had shattered their moment. "Thank you, Suguru," you said, your voice soft but filled with a warmth that sent a thrill through him. "I'd like that."

“Okay, so what happened next? Did you invite him up?” Maki leaned forward, her eyes eager. She glanced at Yuta, who was also listening intently.

Your friends—minus Inumaki—were gathered at the campus café for a small celebration. You’d just received an A+ on your presentation, and of course, you had to share how Suguru's help had played a crucial role. The moment you mentioned his name, their ears visibly perked up.

It had been two weeks since that night on the rooftop, two agonisingly silent weeks. You and Suguru had barely exchanged any texts, and you hadn’t even seen him around campus.

A blush crept up your cheeks as you shook your head. “Of course not! It was just something we felt in the moment. I don’t think inviting him up would have been a wise decision.” You took a sip of your iced tea, the coolness soothing the flutter in your stomach. Every time you replayed the scene in your head, your heart skipped a little. But the silence that followed since then was deafening.

“It doesn’t sound like ‘something in the moment,’ especially with the way you described everything.” Yuta pointed out. One might think he wouldn’t be interested in such stuff, but when it came to his friends, Yuta was always supportive.

"Maybe," you admitted, the word tumbling out before you could stop it. The truth was, the interrupted kiss felt less like a missed opportunity and more like a promise waiting to be fulfilled. But what if you were reading too much into it? The thought sent a pang of disappointment through you, a feeling you quickly brushed aside.

Maki scoffed playfully. "Girl, you were practically glowing when you talked about him! And no one does what he did just to be friendly, you know."

Your cheeks burned even hotter. Maybe Maki was right. Maybe there was something between you and Suguru. A tiny flicker of hope ignited within you, but it was quickly washed away by a wave of uncertainty. Here you were, falling for him, yet his silence indicated that he probably regretted things—didn’t want it. But then the gentle look in his eyes, his silent support, and the way he held you oh so tenderly, shielding you from the cold...

Ugh, it was all so confusing. "But what if—"

Yuta cut you off with a gentle laugh. "Hey, you never know until you try, right? And besides, even if things don’t work out romantically, you made a great new friend. Win-win, I'd say."

You couldn’t help but smile at your friend’s statement. Yuta always knew how to see the bright side. Taking a deep breath, you decided to focus on the positive. Suguru was interesting, kind, and surprisingly easy to talk to. You could confide in him as a friend. But the way his touch comforted you, ignited you...well, that was definitely more than friendly.

"Yeah, you're right," you agreed, a newfound determination settling in your voice despite the nervousness you felt. "Maybe I'll just...see where things go."

Admitting it out loud felt a lot easier. "I like him, you know," you said, looking at your friends with a small smile. "He’s someone who seems to be interested in something that’s not superficial—like he wants to know me, understand me. And it just seems so rare for someone to be genuinely interested in you, right?"

Your friends looked at you with knowing smiles, a silent encouragement hanging in the air. It was probably more than just liking him, you knew. But admitting it out loud, even with just a hint of the deeper feelings swirling within you, felt like a huge step.

The art exhibition buzzed with a quiet energy. The gentle notes of classical music filled your ears, punctuated by the soft murmur of conversation and the clinking of glasses from the nearby champagne bar. 

You stood mesmerised in front of a large, abstract piece. It was a puzzle, quiet literally. Fractured squares of vibrant colours and captivating strokes hung on the stark white wall, making an incomplete puzzle, while its other pieces were scattered chaotically on the floor below. The missing pieces created a gaping emptiness in the artwork, a void that tugged at your emotions.

Was it a metaphor for loss  - longing? a commentary on the incompleteness of experiences? You longed to discuss it with Yuta. He'd always loved puzzles; his apartment was filled with framed pieces of puzzles he had solved so far. His mind was a kaleidoscope of unconventional interpretations, making you look at things with a different perspective.

A pang of guilt lanced through you. You were supposed to visit this exhibition with your friends, but Maki wasn't feeling well. Yet, here you were, lost in the beauty of the artwork displayed. Although Yuta had assured you he was taking care of her, telling you to not miss this exhibition, a part of you still yearned to be by your friend's side.

“Intriguing, is it?” A voice interrupted your thought. You didn’t have to turn around to know who it was. The voice, once a source of comfort and playful teasing, now startled you. It was him, the man who had vanished after nearly kissing you under the twinkling stars, leaving you with nothing but lingering confusion and a heart full of unanswered questions.

And now, after almost two months, he was here, asking you this bloody question.

Suguru Geto.

Well, if he wants to play it this way, you can entertain him. After all, two can play this game. "It is," you began, your eyes finally meeting his. "But I'm trying to figure out what the artist is trying to show here."

Geto hummed thoughtfully. "You know what I think?" He paused. Was he expecting a response from you? Well, he wasn’t getting any. You remained silent, your gaze fixed on the artwork.

Undeterred, he continued, his voice taking on a philosophical tone. "This artwork seems to be a metaphor for life. Life throws pieces at you, like the ones scattered on the floor. It's all you need to make your life meaningful and beautiful. Opportunities, people, love..." he trailed off, the last word hanging in the air unspoken.

His gaze shifted back to the painting, his voice softer now. "But it's up to you how you make use of those pieces, to put in the effort to fit them together. If you're not careful, if you wait too long..." He paused again, his eyes meeting yours for a fleeting moment, a flicker of something akin to regret and longing passing through them. "The pieces might be lost to you forever."

You sucked in a breath. No, he couldn’t mean what you were thinking. After all, the only conversation the two of you had after hanging out on the terrace was when you told him about your assignment and the grade you scored.

Yes, you had texted him a couple of times after that, but the reply seemed…dry. So, you stopped, hoping Geto would reach out to you when he was ready, but the man beside you never bothered to do anything about it.

But your mind replayed the memory of how he held you that night, a tender embrace that spoke volumes without words. It was a gesture that made you feel cherished, as if you were his most prized possession, far above any material wealth the world could offer. And when you shared the news of your accident, his reaction was unexpected - a mixture of regret and concern, as though he wished he had been there for you, even though he didn't even know you at the time.

No.

You couldn’t allow yourself to go there again.

Not if he wouldn’t follow you, keeping up with you.

Your mind buzzed with Geto’s words, his interpretation of the art piece lingering in your thoughts like an unshakable presence. Was he a piece that life had flung your way, meant to enhance the beauty of your existence? Or did he hold some other significance, perhaps serving as a lesson - a piece that doesn’t enhance the beauty of the puzzle, but serves as a guiding force for other pieces? Was he a fleeting moment of joy, destined to fade into memory like the strokes of paint on a canvas? Or was he a constant, a steady presence meant to shape your journey, to teach you lessons you had yet to grasp?

Stop.

You wouldn’t allow yourself to go there. Not again and again.

This man almost kissed you after you told him one of the deepest truths about yourself, and then disappeared, leaving you alone to deal with the darkness so similar to the inky blackness of that night. But this time, even the stars weren’t there to keep you company.

Leaving the painting behind, you moved towards a different section of the exhibition. Here, the air shimmered with vibrant light. Holographic projections of the paintings danced around you, painting your surroundings with the artist's colourful strokes. These ethereal brushstrokes, magnified and swirling, seemed to come alive, transforming the space into a kaleidoscope of the artist's imagination. 

However, the original artworks remained untouched. Hung on the wall next to their holographic counterparts, they offered a more tangible connection to the artist's hand, allowing you to study the physical texture of the canvas, the subtle nuances of the brushstrokes, and the deliberate choices of colour.

The projections painted your off-white dress in different colours, the fabric a soft caress against the skin of your calves as you walked from one painting to another.

Geto followed you closely behind as you navigated through the section, his silence a palpable presence behind your back. You felt his gaze track your movements, but you paid it no mind, completely enthralled by the painting before you.

It was a complete mess. It was a riot of colour, a whirlwind of strokes, a storm of emotions, yet it held you captive. The longer you stared, the more it seemed to transform, the chaos morphing and shifting before your very eyes. What initially appeared as a meaningless jumble began to hold meaning, revealing a hidden order within the frenzy. The chaos formed a structure - The structure within the chaos.

It was almost as if the holograms mirrored your feelings - Confusing, chaotic, shifting.

Lost in the painting's mesmerising chaos, you barely registered Geto's approach. He stood so close behind you that the warmth of his body radiated through your clothes, his upper arm brushing against your shoulder. His voice, soft and low, shattered the silence.

"What are you doing at this exhibition?" he asked, his voice gentle.

Turning around to face him, you finally took him in. Dressed in a brown turtleneck that mirrored the depths of his eyes, his attire accentuated their warm, inviting hue. He wore a casual blazer on top of it, the colour slightly lighter than the colour of his turtleneck. His raven hair, noticeably longer, was tied back in a simple half-bun, the remaining strands cascading down his shoulders. The change, subtle yet noticeable, added a touch of softness to his features.

But what stood out the most were the circles under his eyes and the hollowness of his face. Even as the holograms danced all over his face, they did nothing to conceal his worn-out state; they almost amplified it.

A pang of concern flickered in your chest, a fleeting thought about his well-being. However, you quickly pushed it aside. Geto was the one who decided not to keep in touch anymore, so now it wasn’t your job to be concerned.

But of course, it wasn’t easy to just get rid of your feelings for someone like they never existed, was it?

"This is an art exhibition, open to all," you finally answered, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, "and in case you forgot, I am an art student, Geto." Your voice was filled with sarcasm, and Geto chuckled. You smiled sweetly at him as you asked, "What about you?"

"Well," he began, his voice laced with a playful drawl, "as someone just said, this is an art exhibition, open to all." He shrugged, smirking. You gave him one final, unamused look before your eyes turned back to the painting.

For a few minutes, neither of you said anything. The silence stretched, thick with unspoken questions and the lingering warmth of Geto's presence. Finally, he spoke, "What do you find so captivating about this painting?"

His voice, a soft melody laced with genuine wonder, resonated with a yearning that transcended mere curiosity. It was as if you held the key to answering the storm of questions swirling within him, your insights holding a weight far greater than anything else. A hunger to delve deeper, to peel back the layers of your being until he could see the very essence of you, consumed him.

A ghost of a smile danced on your lips. How could you deny the man who held such profound significance in your heart, the man who yearned to truly know you, to unravel your soul until there was nothing left to be discovered?

No, of course you couldn’t keep away, no matter how hard you tried.

Finally, you answered him. If he wanted a piece of your mind, you would gladly offer it to him. "For me, it’s those golden strokes," you began, "It was definitely a risky move for the painter. Those strokes could have ruined the painting, but it didn't. Instead, it made this painting what we see."

Geto hummed, "So, you feel like that stroke was a bold move for the painter?"

You nodded your head in response. Geto continued, "But what if that stroke ruined the painting?"

A slight smile played on your lips. "Well, then the painter would have learned something important. They'd know they could create the painting again if they wanted to, and that's a power in itself. They'd know they have the skill and the confidence to reach that level of greatness again." You looked him in the eye, your gaze pinning him, "Even if the stroke ended up ruining the painting, the artist could always put in the effort of making it again, and that in itself is a form of victory. They wouldn't be afraid to take that bold step again and again, till the painter gets what they want from the painting."

Geto's gaze drifted away for a moment, his brow furrowed slightly as he processed your words. It was as if he was engaged in an internal debate, weighing the implications of your statement against his own judgement.

“I wish I could look into your mind.” He finally said, his eyes slightly wide in wonder.

But oh Suguru, little did he know, he has been settled there since the two of you met in the cafe.

A soft buzz from Geto’s phone brought you out of your thoughts, making you realise how quiet it was around you. He pulled out his phone, his fingers flying across the screen as he typed a message. As you watched him, the silence stretched between you, thick with unspoken words.

He slipped the phone back into his pocket and met your gaze. "It was good seeing you again," he said. Were you overthinking, or was his voice a touch more formal than before? "I have to go now. Enjoy the exhibition."

With that, he turned and walked away, his steps hurried, leaving you standing there with a lingering feeling of unease. You hadn't had a chance to say goodbye, and the abruptness of his departure left you wondering about your interaction with Geto.

Soon, you were done with the exhibition, the vibrant colours of the holograms still dancing behind your eyelids. Your mind buzzed with inspiration, the beauty of the paintings displayed sparking a flurry of ideas in your head.

The puzzle painting seemed to mock you as you passed it one last time, the question echoing in your mind: where did Geto fit in your life? What piece of the puzzle was he?

Exiting the building, you descended the stairs, the chill in the winter air making you shiver despite your sweater. As you reached the bottom, your steps slowed, coming to a halt. There was Geto, standing by the entrance. But he wasn't alone. He held a woman close, his arms wrapped tightly around her like he never wanted to let go. Her head rested against his chest, and his eyes were closed, almost nestled against her shoulder. The intimacy of their embrace was undeniable, a silent language of comfort and connection that spoke volumes.

Despite the prickling suspicion in your chest, you knew better than to jump to conclusions. This wasn't your place to pry. Yet, the image of their closeness branded itself into your brain, a searing feeling that left your heart burning.

"Well, don't you two look cute," a voice boomed. You looked up to see a man with white hair and sunglasses approaching them, a wide grin plastered on his face.

Gojo Satoru - the name echoed in your mind - Geto's best friend.

You watched as Geto and the woman pulled away, the woman playfully swatting Gojo's arm. But it wasn't the playful interaction that held your attention. Even from a distance, you could see the lingering longing in Geto's eyes as he looked at her.

It hit you like a punch to the gut. This was what he'd been preoccupied with. This is why he had kept you in the dark. This all felt like a cruel joke, life playing a twisted game on you. Of course he had a girlfriend - a guy like him probably had women lining up around the block.

You shook your head, a humourless chuckle escaping your lips as you made your way down the remaining stairs. Yeah, it was pretty obvious what kind of piece Geto was. A missing piece, a piece that belonged to someone else's puzzle, not yours.

You stood outside maki’s wooden front door, finger hovering over the buzzer.  But, before you could ring, the door swung open, its hinges creaking slightly as familiar black, tousled hair came into the view.

Yuta lifted his head, momentarily startled to see someone standing right outside the door, before his eyes met yours. A small smile graced his lips. You took note of the black duffle bag hanging on his shoulder.

You returned his smile, “Leaving now?” you asked him, watching as a small blush crept up his cheek. “Yeah, Maki is feeling better now, so I figured I should go home.” He answered, relief clouding in his eyes before his expression turned curious, “Oh, how was the exhibition yesterday? Again, I am so sorry we couldn’t make it.”

You shook your head, dismissing his apology. “No need to apologise, Yuta.” Despite the events of last night, you found yourself smiling. After all, you saw some works by your favourite artists. You cannot let a man - no matter how much he meant to you - ruin something that you have been looking forward to so eagerly.

“The exhibition was great, Yuta,” You said, as you told him about the puzzle artwork. “I really missed you guys there, you would have loved it too.” You finished, hoping to convey your sincerity with your words. 

Yuta’s eyes lit up and his smile widened, “That sounds amazing! I hope next time all of us can go” He said, before gesturing towards his bag, “Anyways, I gotta go now - Maki’s in her room, by the way.” With a final wave, he moved towards the front door, the door shutting behind him as he left Maki’s apartment.

You made your way towards her room, the minty smell of ointment filling your nose. You found Maki sitting on her bed with a small crochet blanket draped over her legs. The vibrant colours of the blanket reminded you of summer. 

Maki looked up when you approached, a small chuckle leaving her lips as she rolled her eyes, inviting you to sit on the bed. “I knew I would see your face today.” she said, causing you to smile. Her voice today was a far cry from the shaky, tired voice she had yesterday.

Yeah, Yuta was right, Maki was definitely feeling better.

You also noticed that some colour has returned to her face, and Maki looked better now than she did at college, and this observation somehow soothed and comforted you. You enquired about her well-being and got to know that Maki had a cold and fever, but thanks to Yuta’s support, she was feeling far better. 

Oh, Speaking of Yuta…

“So Yuta stayed the night, huh?” You finally asked, an eyebrow raised and a smirk gracing your lips. 

Maki rolled her eyes again but she didn’t shy away from the topic. You watched as the top of her cheeks turned slightly pink. It was a rare sight, something you found so cute. Both Yuta and Maki had a similar reaction to a similar situation.

“Yeah, he was just making sure the fever doesn't get worse or anything,” she said, a small smile on her lips as if she was recalling last night. “He was really sweet about it, actually.” She said it as if she just realised it too.

You smiled for your friends, “So, do you want something with him?” you asked, genuinely curious.

Maki’s expression turned thoughtful, though a hint of playfulness remained, “I do like him,” She admitted. There was no hesitancy in her voice. “But I don’t want to force things with him or anything. Just go with the flow, you know?” She met your eyes as she said, “Besides, he is a great friend - that matters above everything else.” 

You admired Maki’s clarity. She knew what she wanted. 

Nodding your head in response, you reached out to squeeze Maki's hand. But just then Maki let out a small cough. You quickly reached for the glass of water on her bedside table and handed it to her, "Here, take a sip of this."

After a few sips, a sigh of relief escaped her lips. "Alright," she said, her voice slightly raspy, "enough about me. Tell me what’s going on between you and that Geto guy?" Her gaze, even dimmed by illness, held its usual unwavering intensity. It burrowed into yours, leaving no room for secrets. “And don’t lie, I can tell something is bothering you.”

Your heart sank at the mention of Geto's name, the emotions from last night bubbling back to the surface. You avoided them, though. "I think he's seeing someone else," you admitted with a bitter chuckle.

Maki's frown mirrored your own confusion. "But from what you told me…?"

"Yeah, I know," you sighed, your voice heavy with resignation. "But then again, we didn’t speak for two months. I don’t really blame him for pursuing someone else."

But the ache in your chest refused to dissipate, stubbornly clinging to the remnants of hope you had tried to bury.

You recounted the events of the exhibition, the cryptic nature of Suguru's words, and the sight of him with another woman. Maki listened attentively, her unwavering gaze conveying understanding as you poured your heart out to her.

Maki sighed, her disappointment evident in the furrow of her brow. “The woman you are talking about,” she began, her tone tinged with frustration, “I think I saw her and Geto at a cafe - the description sounds the same. But I didn’t think much of it because I just assumed they were friends or something.” Another sigh escaped her lips, laden with exasperation. “But from what you're saying… man, that guy is so clueless!”

"Now, there’s no point in that anyway," you murmured, your shoulders slumping as you shook your head. "I’m just disappointed because I thought we had something, but I guess I just misunderstood things."

Maki's eyes flashed with indignation. “I saw the way he looked at you in the cafeteria - like a teenage boy looking at his first crush. It was so sweet it was almost disgusting,” she said, her nose scrunching up slightly. “So no, you did not misunderstand things. That guy turned out to be an asshole.”

Maki reached out and squeezed your hand, a gesture so unexpected from her that it caught you off guard. “You deserve better than someone who doesn’t know what he wants.” Her gaze was intense, taking in your slumped shoulders and tired eyes. “You know what?” she began, determination clear in her voice. “Give me your phone.”

“You are not texting him,” you said sternly, though you unlocked your phone and handed it to her anyway.

“Of course not,” she replied with a humourless chuckle. “He isn’t worth my time.” You rolled your eyes at her statement, but the corners of your lips twitched upwards, feeling a bit of the weight lifting off your shoulders.

You peeked over your phone, curiosity getting the better of you. Maki was busy downloading - “A dating app?” you asked, eyebrows shooting up in surprise.

Maki nodded in response, her fingers flying over the screen as she added a description and prompts to your profile. “But Maki, I don’t want to date someone just like that,” you protested.

“You deserve to meet someone new and exciting. It doesn’t have to be serious,” Maki replied, her voice firm but caring.

You had never used dating apps before, so you felt hesitant to try it out. The idea of swiping left and right felt strange, almost impersonal. But another part of you was curious to see how things would turn out. After all, college was ending soon, you had barely dated anyone until now, and then the thing with Geto...

Maki looked up from the phone, her expression softening slightly. “I know it feels weird, but sometimes you need to step out of your comfort zone. Just give it a try. If you don’t like it, you can always delete it.” She angled the phone towards you, the dating app now downloaded and ready to go. “Think of it as an adventure. You never know what might happen.”

Maki began swiping for you, her eyes occasionally flicking up to check your reaction. One particular profile caught your eye. “Wait!” you stopped her just as she was about to remove the profile.

“What? Him? Really?” Maki asked, her nose scrunching up in mild disgust.

“Hey, he looks good, okay? But that’s not the point,” you said, leaning in to get a better look. The picture of a familiar white-haired man stared back at you. “That’s Geto’s best friend, Gojo.” You told her, swiping down on the profile to see more.

You came across a picture of him and Geto, seemingly from a beach trip. Both of them were wearing floral shirts and sporting big grins. The sight of them together stirred a mix of emotions within you. The carefree happiness on Geto's face contrasted sharply with the confusion and heartache you felt.

The text with the picture read:

Yeah, that’s my best friend, but you won’t find him here. His heart is already taken, but mine isn’t ;)

You shook your head, ignoring the icy feeling that crawled up your veins; a feeling that didn’t have anything to do with the cold, biting wind outside. After a few more swipes, you got some matches. Maki took over, texting them on your behalf.

“‘Are you free tomorrow?’” Maki read the text from one of your matches out loud. Yeah, you were free, but was it wise to go out with someone you barely knew? As if sensing your hesitation, Maki said, “You don’t have to go if you don’t want to, but I think you should.” Then, she added, “It might help you deal with your feelings for Geto.” You noticed a hint of bitterness when she said his name, as if it left a sour taste in her mouth.

You bit your lip, considering her words. Maki has always been your rock, her advice helping you through the toughest situations. Finally making up your mind, you said, “Yeah, I guess I’ll go out with him - see how it is.” Then, with a teasing tone you said, your voice light, “But I am going only for you.”

Maki smiled at you, her expression lightening. “Great! I’ll text him then.” Her tone turned serious. “But keep texting me, okay? He seems okay, but that doesn’t mean I won’t be worried about you.”

You smiled at your friend’s protectiveness. “Yeah, I will Maki, don’t worry about it.”

A small part of you felt like this was wrong, especially since there was no communication between you and Geto to clear things up. But he had started dating someone else, hadn’t he? His heart was already taken, wasn’t it? So did it matter what you felt for him? Clearly, it didn’t mean anything to him, so the sooner you got over it, the better it would be for you.

The sudden crack of lightning jolted you, sending a streak of black liquid across your eyelid just as you were applying your eyeliner. A muted curse escaped your lips as you grabbed a makeup wipe, determined to fix the line. But the damage was done – a dark smudge now decorated your under-eye. With a sigh, you opted for a clean look, wiping away the eyeliner completely.

Another flash of lightning illuminated the room, followed by a low rumble of thunder. Your brow furrowed as you pulled on your clothes for the date. Winter rain was a rarity, but the damp air and earthy scent were unmistakable signs of a downpour.

You had to hurry now. Getting caught in a winter rain shower was the last thing you wanted, especially with your already achy legs. A quick glance in the mirror confirmed that you were looking presentable. Despite the eyeliner disaster, you felt satisfied with your hair and makeup.

You made your way towards the restaurant, taking the subway. As you emerged from the station, the warm, stale air was replaced by a blast of icy wind that stole your breath. It was raining now, but thankfully it was misty; the droplets of water barely felt like anything. The rain clung around your face, blurring the city lights into shimmering halos. The rhythmic rumble of the train faded behind you, replaced by the traffic honks and the murmur of people walking around.

Your legs felt like lead as you trudged towards the restaurant. You'd chosen a cosy Italian place that was a little far from your apartment. Your date had insisted on a ‘middle point’ since he lived far away from your place, and you couldn’t protest.

Doubt gnawed at you. Was this the right way to get over Geto? The memory of his supportive glances and gentle laugh sent a pang through your chest. This date with someone you barely knew, suddenly felt like a flimsy shield against a tidal wave of longing. Yes, you and your date had exchanged some text, but could you really judge a person just through texts? But cancelling now felt like a betrayal – you couldn’t bring yourself to leave someone hanging like that while they waited for you.

With that in mind, you pushed open the glass doors of the restaurant. The smell of molten cheese and basil greeting you, followed by the gentle clink of glasses and happy murmurs. The whole place was bathed in the warm glow of fairy lights. 

Once inside, you navigated through the crowded space until you spotted a familiar-looking face. Your date's blond hair was combed neatly, but there was something different about his hair compared to the pictures you saw. Still, you paid it no mind as you made your way to the table.

As you reached the table, you noticed an almost empty lowball glass that sat in front of him. It had a single ice cube clinging to the bottom of what appeared to be bourbon, given by its amber colour. Before you could dwell on the obvious red flag, dark hazel eyes met yours.

You forced out a smile. “Hey, you must be –”

The words died on your lips as he cut you off, his voice clipped. "You're late."

Huh?

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Looking forward to your feedback 🌷

← Prev. Chapter | Series mlist | Next Chapter →

I know things take a turn here, and even I wasn't expecting this to happen but it just happened, to the point I had to change the storyline lol

@whereflowerswenttodie @celestie0 @lostfracturess @nakariabnrb @yungbloode

@peppertoastuniverse @hopefulpeachcolor

Stained glass and heart dividers by @/saradika

Line divider by @benkeibear

Galaxy divider by @/cafekitsune

[penny00dreadful]

Through The Valley - Post-Apocalypse AU - Part 1

AO3

Eddie rapped his knuckle against the metal three times.

“I don’t sell from the van, Harrington.”

He was parked in a dark corner of the cul-de-sac, blocking out any streetlight. The only reason he’d been able to recognise the artful swoop of hair was due to the residual glow from Tina’s Halloween Bash that had completely cleaned out his stock. It was going to comfortably pay his and Wayne’s electricity bill for the winter months ahead.

With maybe a little left over for a couple of new tapes if he was lucky.

If it had been anyone else he’d probably have been more careful in his approach but Steve never got physical in school. Even if he chose tonight to start throwing drunken punches, Eddie was pretty sure he’d be able to fend him off. 

He wasn’t as strong as Steve but he was stone cold sober and knew how to take care of himself.

Eddie didn’t even really have to try to be mean and scary half the time, his look did it enough for him.

Steve had been leaning up against the side of the van with his head in his hands but Eddie’s approach must have been muffled by the thumping music coming from the house because the way he startled at the sound of Eddie’s knocking was borderline panicked.

A little over the top, to be honest.

Like he expected some monster to appear out of the shadows.

Steve glanced at him but just as quickly turned his back, swiping furiously at his face and Eddie got the distinct impression he’d interrupted something private. It immediately put him on edge.

These traditional masculinity jock types always got very defensive if they were caught being vulnerable. Like a single shred of emotion would shrink their dick.

“I’m not here to buy, I’m-” Steve sniffled again, wiping his nose harshly on his sleeve. “Sorry, I just needed a minute, I’m leaving.” His voice was thick from crying and he in no way tried to hide it.

Eddie frowned. 

He didn’t really know what to do with that reaction, it wasn’t what he was expecting at all. But he figured if Steve could be gracious enough not to snap and spit at him, Eddie could be gracious enough not to make things worse.

“Don’t worry about it, man. If you need a minute, take a minute.”

Steve shook his head. “No, it’s fine-” he was cut off as he tried to step away but had clearly misjudged where the curb was in the darkness, tripping over it and landing hard on his back in the bushes. 

He leaned forward, trying to pull himself back up but went completely slack again a second later.

“Well that’s just fucking typical.” Steve muttered.

Eddie tried hard to keep any hint of a smirk or smile off his face as he moved to hover over him, still trying to keep the mood light.

“You good?”

Steve flapped a loose hand in his direction. “I’m fine. Just leave me here to die.”

Eddie did smile at that and held a ringed hand out to him. “Dramatics are usually my job.”

Steve clapped his hand into Eddie’s and allowed himself to be hauled up to a sitting position. 

Eddie considered for a moment before his curiosity got the better of him and he threw himself down onto the concrete.

The coldness of the curb immediately bit through his jeans. There’d probably be a freeze tonight. He could see their breath fog up in between them and the van they were now shadowed behind as he tapped out two cigarettes from his pack and offered one over.

Steve looked surprised for a moment, or Eddie guessed he looked surprised. They were both still drenched in mostly darkness, so Eddie couldn’t see much of his face. 

Steve took the cigarette with a soft, “Thanks.” 

Lighting up he took a deep inhale before rubbing at his eyes again with the heel of his hand, though it seemed to be more out of tiredness than continued tears.

He sniffed again and let out a heavy sigh. 

“Are you going to ask about it?”

“Not if you don’t want me to.” Eddie shrugged. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not really. No. I don’t know-” Steve’s words died in his throat when he looked up, eyes sliding from Eddie’s face and landing over his shoulder.

Eddie twisted around and caught sight of Jonathan helping a stumbling Nancy out of the house with nervous hands and a worried brow.

“I’m guessing it has something to do with that?” He asked, turning back.

Steve tracked the two of them with his eyes before looking back down at the ground and saying quietly, “Yeah, something like that.”

“You’re not worried about someone else taking your very intoxicated girlfriend home?”

Steve shook his head inhaling another large drag from his cigarette. “No, not with Byers. She’s safe with him, she-” he sighed. “Don’t think she’s my girlfriend anymore anyway.”

Well it didn't take much more than that to paint a picture in Eddie's head of what had happened. 

The whole town had known about the fight between Jonathan and Steve last year following the spray painting and subsequent clean up of The Hawk in which Nancy had very much not sided with Steve on it, though who could blame her. 

People had expected him to drop her like a lead balloon after that but he hadn’t. He’d shocked everyone by starting up with her again, but now it looked like those issues had never really been resolved.

Eddie watched Steve’s silhouette carefully, ready for the moment he’d just up and start punching whatever was in reach like a good little testosterone driven toddler, but he just looked… defeated.

“You’re… handling it remarkably well.” He hedged, apprehensive.

“For now.” Steve tilted his head back to look up at the stars, his breath curling out white and foggy in the cold. “It’ll probably hit me tomorrow.”

Eddie wanted to reach a hand out, grip at his shoulder, offer a comforting touch but boys didn’t touch. And if they did, they only did it after reaching a certain level of friendship, which they were not at.

So he kept his hands to himself.

“Well I’d offer you something to take the edge off, but I’m afraid I’m all out.”

Steve shook his head. “No, you’re okay. Distraction and a cigarette is good enough for me. Plus you can’t just go around offering charity to anyone who crosses your path, people will try to take advantage.”

“You think I’d let people take advantage of me?” Eddie said with a smile, hoping to lighten the mood.

Steve snored. “No, I suppose not. You’ve got your whole,” he waved his hand in Eddie’s direction, “bad boy rough and tough… look.”

Eddie raised his eyebrows and laughed around his cigarette. “Hey, don't disparage the look, Harrington. It works.”

“M not disparaging, it’s a good look.”

“Oh, really? Didn’t think it’d be your type of thing.”

Steve glanced over at him, his eyes mischievous and ever so slightly hooded. “You’ve no idea what my type of thing is, Munson.”

Wait.

Was that a line?

Was Steve Harrington, Steve Harrington flirting with him? Him? 

Maybe Steve had too much to drink. 

He was obviously heartbroken by whatever was going on with Nancy so maybe it was just some kind of catharsis or a joke or-

A shrill ring cut through the air, sharp and splitting.

Eddie snapped his head up.

Steve didn’t react.

There was a rotary phone hanging off the side of his van, teal with a twisted cord.

And it was ringing.

Loudly.

It was like a spell had been broken, the shrill screaming of ringringring filled Eddie with a wild panic, a wild fear, shooting through his head and setting his blood alight.

He turned his wide eyes back to Steve who was now looking up at the phone with loose shoulders and a calm face. 

The darkness didn’t matter anymore, he knew with exact, intimate detail what look Steve had right now.

He’d been back here often enough after all.

“Stevie, don’t answer it.” Eddie’s panic was edging into desperation.

His time was running out. 

There was an overwhelming sense of loss inside him, mixed up with devastation, heartbreak and sadness.

He was slipping.

He was slipping away.

Again.

“I have to.”

“No, you don’t.” Eddie shook his head frantically, grasping Steve by the shoulders. “You don’t have to.” 

He swung his leg over, sitting himself firmly in Steve’s lap and placed a hand at either side of his face, practically begging him. “Just a little longer. Please, baby, please.” 

It was like he was imploring Steve to look inside at his beating, bloody heart, pleading with him to let them both stay. His tone was frantic and he could feel his soul cracking to pieces, clinging on as if he could keep Steve here just with his grip alone.

“It’s about Max.” Steve stated, matter of fact.

Eddie leaned forward and placed kiss after kiss in quick succession against Steve’s face. “You don’t have to answer it yet.” He said, a thick sob crawling its way up his throat, trying to change the inevitable. 

His vision was starting to blur with tears and the lump in his throat felt like he’d swallowed a fucking golf ball. “Not yet. You can- you can answer it later. Please. Stevie. Baby. Sweetheart. We could-” He threw his arms around Steve’s shoulders, holding him as tight and close as he possibly could, as though his grip could keep them both here. 

His tears were finally slipping free and his heartbreak cresting into complete and utter anguish. “We could go hang out with Robin or… or…”

“I haven’t met Robin yet, Eds. You know that.” Steve’s hand came up to softly cradle the back of his head as Eddie’s tears clung to Steve’s neck where they fell and he wasn’t sure if that made things better or worse. “I have to answer it.”

The next sob that came felt like it had torn his whole body in half, shaking him to his core, ripping him in two. 

“Just a few more minutes.” He begged. “Please. Please don’t go.” He whispered, tremulous and defeated as the soft click of the receiver being picked up sounded around him and he awoke with a start.

Eddie took a few moments to collect himself, swiping furiously at his eyes with his bedsheets, hating himself for crying and trying to will the lump in his throat away. 

His heart was aching and he knew despite his best efforts he’d be carrying it around with him for the rest of the day. 

He didn’t have nightmares like Dustin or Nancy did. He didn’t scream or thrash or claw, no.

He had these dreams. 

He wept in his sleep, crying until he was dried out and exhausted upon waking up but he wouldn’t trade them in for anything.

At least with these dreams he could still…

Nevermind.

It wasn’t important. 

He had too much shit to deal with today to spend time mourning the past. 

The past was dead and there was nothing he could do about it now. 

He just had to keep moving forward.

For Wayne, for Dustin, for Mike and El and Will, for the Sinclair parents and the Buckley parents and Ms. Mayfield.

He tried to focus on the issues of the day.

Their food surplus was getting dangerously low and there hadn’t been a supply drop from the military in weeks, though their own vegetable crop was still growing strong.

Chester Hagen and his goons were still giving Nancy trouble. 

They needed extra hands to get their fence back up again and those bandits were still out there. 

They might have been scared away by Dustin and Scott’s genius and deadly electrical wiring but they weren’t going to stay away for long. 

Their settlement was way too valuable an asset to have under their belts from a defensive standpoint alone and if Chester Hagen or the fucking bandits were able to seize control it could be catastrophic.

And that’s not even mentioning the fucking Ghouls.

Their bright red eyes were always the first thing visible through the darkness of the forest, followed closely by the smell of decay. 

They kept to the shadows, unnervingly quiet considering they were the shambling corpses of those caught in the crossfire of the rifts opening up. 

They were able to sneak up on even the most alert of people, getting close enough to strike, cutting a gnarled claw into their victims skin and paralysing them, ready to be feasted upon silently and unable to scream.

If someone was unlucky enough to die from a bite, rather than claws ripping their flesh from their bones and bleeding out, they’d come back a few hours later, dead and mindless, driven by the need to consume.

It was so incredibly fucked up.

Nearly everyone had had a run in with someone they had known once in life.

Hawkins had been a very small town after all and the Ghouls were drawn to their walls, the noise their small community made within their safe refuge amongst the trees like a shining noise beacon.

The creatures were easy to pick off though, high up in the communities man made sentry towers Eddie had suggested way back when, but the community could never get too complacent.

The Ghouls were still a very real threat.

The two bodies that had to be brought home and buried after the last trip to maintain the water tower made that clear enough.

Two more plots in their makeshift graveyard at the edge of what was once a golf course.

Fuck, they needed food. At least something more than the rationed out vegetables they were able to grow, something similar to the comforts they knew before everything went to shit.

Some sugar, some salt, even a bit of fucking meat.

They hadn’t been hunting too much lately, it was getting more and more dangerous to leave the walls. 

Everyone was running on fumes and it was making them sloppy. 

Their sentries were having trouble concentrating, their medical personnel had started to feel they couldn’t perform their duties safely anymore, their smartest minds were waning. 

Eddie dragged himself out of bed. 

No time to huddle in for warmth and wish for a different day than the one he was facing down, too many people were waiting on him, relying on him.

He did allow himself to drift a hand over the pillow he kept on the other side, though.

His side, though it had always been empty, ever since they first arrived at this estate, ever since Eddie first slept in the bed, nine months ago.

Fourteen months since the end. 

Fourteen months since... 

No.

Stop thinking about it.

Too much to do today.

He shook his head again, stripping down bare and stopping in front of the mirror. 

He was leaner than he had been before all this began. 

Fourteen months of surviving an apocalypse would do that to a person. 

His hair was longer and still just as messy as ever. His skin was blocked out with more self-inflicted tattoos. Mostly the result of sleepless nights and downtime by candlelight when the memories sometimes got to be too much and he just had to get them out, get them onto skin, carry them on the outside rather than leave them to fester on the inside. 

There was an illustration of Smaug from the books, done to the best of his memory on his right knee. Shitty interpretations of his guitar, a slice of pizza, a walkie talkie, trucker hats, mugs, guitar picks and music notes littered his arms. The old hellfire logo and the Corroded Coffin logo inked into his chest where his demon head and black widow had once been, now in the stomach of some long dead demobat somewhere. 

Those had hurt like a bitch.

Almost as bad as the two quotes on the inside of his thighs.

I had not intended to love him on the inside of his left.

He made me love him without looking at me on the inside of his right. 

Eddie scratched at his jaw in the mirror. He needed a shave but that could wait, he couldn’t be fucked dragging a razor over his face right now.

The shower was icy cold. He barely remembered what bathing in warm water felt like anymore. Positives and negatives to having a steady water supply from the reservoir on top of the hill, but no electricity.

At least they were all able to keep clean.

He barely bothered to dry off, dumping his towel in the laundry hamper he’d probably forget to bring down to their approximation of a laundrette, again.

He snatched up some clothes from his dresser, dark and sturdy, just how he liked them.

Dark jeans, dark top, high quality boots that he found in the abandoned house he and Wayne were now living in and though the July sun had been vicious and unrelenting, he needed the comfort of the familiar.

The only things of his own that had survived were what he had on him when they’d run. His necklace, his bracelet, his wallet chain, even though he hadn’t had need of a wallet for over a year, wasn’t even sure where in the world it was. But he added them too, feeling more like himself with every piece he put on.

He snatched up the rifle he kept loaded and tucked between the bed frame and the wall every night, slinging the strap over his shoulder and was about to head out of his bedroom when he paused, gripping the door handle tight.

He hated giving into the urge but if this was the day he died, he knew he’d regret not doing it.

With a put upon sigh, he let go of the door handle and turned back into his room, opening his closet door and looking at the only item of clothing hanging in there.

Reaching out, he brushed his fingers over the back shoulders, feeling the raised lettering of the name across his fingertips and ran a hand down the sleeve, gripping the cuff.

Before he could stare at green and white for too long and allow the sorrow to wash over him again, he let go and shut the closet door.

The house he and Wayne had managed to lay claim to was one of the smaller ones but that didn’t bother them. 

Hell, it was practically Eddie’s own now that Wayne was spending most nights with Scott. 

In any case the house was close to exactly who he wanted to be close to. 

The Hoppers-Byers clan lived directly behind him, the fence blocking their gardens from each other long broken down by El. Dustin and his mother lived to one side of him, Nancy and her family on the other. Across the road lived the Sinclair parents, Susan Mayfeild and the Buckley parents, along with the various friends and family members of those that hadn’t been seen since before everything went to shit, trying to find comfort in their numbers.

They’d tried to convince Dustin, Mike, Will and El to join them in their support group but those kids weren’t the types to sit around and talk about their feelings. 

They were the types to throw themselves into some new experiment or dig their way through The Void trying to find a new way forward.

But no such luck so far.

Eddie had stopped asking.

He trudged his way through the streets of what was once a very affluent gated community but had now become their own little post apocalypse village. 

How quaint, he thought, sardonically.

He headed towards what was a rec centre once upon a time but had since been repurposed as their collective dining hall.

During the good times when food stockpiles were high people could come and go as they pleased, getting fed whenever the desire took them, maybe even being able to make a request of what they wanted to eat.

But in times like these, when the variety of food was dangerously low, mealtimes were strictly regimented to make sure everyone got an equal share. 

As he waited in line, his stomach growling with the smell wafting from the kitchens, the people around him sent him warm smiles and friendly greetings, some even trying to engage him in small talk.

Crazy how an actual apocalypse can change attitudes.

“What’s on the menu today, Joyce?” Eddie asked when he got to the front of the line. 

His smile didn’t feel as strained as it had been before. Joyce always managed to bring some light out in him. 

“Only the finest potato stew for one of our fearless leaders.” She replied with a sneaky smile, pushing a bowl of watered down lumpy stew towards him.

Eddie glared at her but without much substance behind it, picking up his bowl. “You know I hate it when you call me that.”

Joyce awed playfully, reaching over to pinch his unscarred cheek. “Well, maybe you shouldn’t pull such an adorable face whenever I do.”

Eddie rolled his eyes and turned away, calling back over his shoulder, “Bye Joyce.”

“Bye sweetie!”

He sat himself down at an empty table as far away from everyone else as he could, hoping to just be able to eat his meal in peace before the demands of everyone and everything started to surround him.

He only got about two bites in before a sour faced figure sat himself down across from him.

Eddie didn’t even bother to look up.

“I’m not in the mood, Hagen.”

Chester Hagen was a man who looked like he might have been attractive in his youth if he didn’t constantly have a sulk on his face and a sickening air of superiority around him.

“Just hear me out, Munson. I know you feel like you owe the Wheeler girl your loyalty-”

Eddie snapped his eyes up. “I don’t owe Nancy anything. She has my loyalty because she’s earned it. Something I’m sure you’re unfamiliar with.”

“Don’t you think this place could use some actual leadership? Not just some little girl playing politics.”

Eddie sighed heavily and continued to shovel his food into his mouth, trying to have this conversation finished as fast as he could. “And you think that’s you, do you? Might I remind you that everyone here,” he waved his hand around, “including you and your luddites elected her as leader, because she was one of the few who knew how to actually handle everything.”

“That was then. Now we’re starving. The military doesn’t respect her, why else wouldn’t we be getting our drops on time? The people are upset and they’re starting to talk. And need I remind you I was an acting town official for years. I ran for Mayor-”

Eddie lifted the bowl to his mouth, slurping down the last of his food. “And you lost.” He winced in mock sympathy, standing up. “To Larry Kline of all people. Ouch.”

He left to hand his bowl back over to be cleaned, praying that he wouldn’t be followed but that was apparently too much to hope for. He’d barely made it outside before he heard the heavy footsteps following him.

Eddie darted around the corner of the building, striding down the small gap between the dining hall and their makeshift medical centre, only stopping once he was sure Hagen had followed him in.

“Munson, if she has something over you that makes you think you can’t switch to the better team then you’ve got to know we can help you out. No matter what it is. You have a lot of respect in this community, we could use that. And you wouldn’t be stuck acting as some little girls guard dog-”

Eddie swung around, pressing the barrel of his rifle into Chester Hagan’s neck, backing him into the wall. Hagen immediately threw his hands up in surrender, his eyes wide with fear, looking like he was about to piss himself.

“What if I like being a little girl's guard dog, what then?”

Eddie and Nancy didn’t exactly see eye to eye. She still held onto some middle class, small town politeness and nothing Eddie said, trying to get her to accept the brutality of the world they were living in now would dissuade her. 

But she was an effective leader. And she was one of the people who had kept him alive during the spring break from hell.

There was no way he was going to sell her out to Chester fucking Hagan.

Hagen swallowed, shifting the muzzle ever so slightly around his throat. “S- so is it a sex thing? Because I’m sure we could find-”

“For the sake of your own head I’m encouraging you to stop talking now.”

“Right, right. Yeah. I’m… I’ll stop talking.”

“Good. Now listen to me very carefully. Under no circumstances whatsoever will I be persuaded, coerced, bought or bullied away from Nancy’s side. This town voted her their leader and unless the majority no longer wants her overlooking things, it’s going to stay that way.” He pushed the barrel of the gun in harder, right under his jaw. “But if I ever get approached by you or one of your goons trying to get me to switch sides or go behind Nancy’s back for information again, I will not hesitate to put a bullet through your eye. We both know I’ll do it and I won't lose a wink of sleep over it."

"Th- pe- people won't like that."

"Oh, won't they? Tell me, who do you think the people will side with between the two of us? It's why you keep trying to get me to join your side. Because you know you don't have shit without my support. Like you said, I have a lot of respect in this community.” 

“B- but you two fight, you fight all the time! We can hear it clear across the estate! We can-” Eddie dug the gun in just a little deeper. “Do not approach me again. Do I make myself clear?”

Hagen nodded, short and sharp and scared. “Crystal clear, Munson. Sir.”

“Good.” Eddie pulled the gun away from his neck and slung it back over his shoulder, walking down the rest of the alleyway before calling back, “Clean up, it smells like you shit yourself.”

“Can a girl get pregnant if she’s on top?”

Eddie dropped the metal sheet they were using to repair the hole in the fence, just barely managing to avoid crushing his toe. The noise clanged around them like a dinner bell. He and Dustin were outside the protective walls of the community for this particular repair and they both froze, tensing up and waiting to hear if the sound had attracted any Ghouls or roving bandits towards them. They were barely in danger, there were sentries posted on high platforms around the whole perimeter but it was still something they wanted to avoid if they could.

Speaking of, they could hear someone climbing the platform from the inside before Jonathan poked his head over the eight foot wall, looking down on the two of them.

“Everything okay?”

Eddie took one last glance at the dense woods around them and let his shoulders drop, tugging at the sleeves of his jacket and looking back up.

“Yeah, sorry about that Jon. The kid just jumpscared me is all.”

“I literally just asked a question.” Dustin frowned at him.

“A sex question.” Eddie pointed out.

“I think I’ll take my leave, have fun with that!” Jonathan disappeared back behind the walls before Eddie could even glare at him.

“Why are you even asking me? And who are you planning on sexing up? You’re too young anyway. You’re a foetus.”

“I’m sixteen. And seriously? I thought you’d be more… open minded about this.” Dustin pouted. “Plus who else am I gonna ask? Hopper, Jonathan? I can’t go to the library, they don’t exist anymore and I can’t ask-” Dustin swallowed, trying to keep his emotions in check and failing. “Steve’s not here.” He whispered.

Eddie’s heart gave a painful thud, like it always did whenever Steve was mentioned. Whenever Eddie thought of him, really.

It usually led to him trying not to think of him, which made him feel guilty, like he was trying to forget. Which then made him sadder and angrier and more hopeless all at the same time. Because ‘forgetting’ implied Eddie would never see him again. It implied that Steve was… gone. 

And he just couldn’t accept that.

But trying to avoid thoughts of Steve often left Dustin in the lurch. He knew it did. 

Who else could the kid talk to about this? Not Jonathan or Hopper or Joyce or Wayne or Claudia. None of them knew Steve like Dustin did. Not even Nancy had known him very well by the end.

Will and El had been the two kids who’d interacted with Steve the least when they were all together. Before. And Mike had too much ‘ex-boyfriend to his sister’ attitude about him to really talk to Steve back then, always assuming there’d be more time.

Maybe he could talk to Richard and Melissa Buckley. They were the parental connection Steve never had, Eddie knew that. Steve had told him that himself.

But there was too much of an age gap.

And the rest of their Upside-Down crew were in the same boat Steve was. 

Not here. 

They hadn’t been seen or heard from in over fourteen months.

Robin, Max, Lucas, Erica… 

Missing.

Not gone. 

Never gone.

Just… missing.

Dustin shook his head, crossing his arms over his chest. “Look, can we just talk about the sex like scientists? Not make it weird with squiggly feelings?”

Eddie smirked, but nodded, happy to avoid the subject of Steve for a little longer.

“Sure thing, kiddo. To answer your question, yes. A girl can get pregnant from literally every penis in vagina position. And she can get pregnant if she’s on her period. And if it’s her first time.”

Dustin huffed, throwing his arms out at his sides. “Then how is anyone supposed to have sex without getting someone pregnant in the apocalypse?”

Eddie snorted, picking back up his metal sheet. “Why do you think there's been so many babies born here since it started?”

“Unsafe practices?”

Eddie snapped his fingers and pointed at Dustin. “Unsafe practices.”

“Well…” Eddie could hear Dustin drumming his fingers against his baseball bat, apparently contemplating something. He took a big breath in. “What have you been doing?”

Eddie nearly dropped the sheet again. “Me?”

“Yeah? How have you been having sex without getting anyone pregnant?”

Eddie blew out a breath, busying himself with finally securing the sheet. He’d probably end up nearly dropping it again if he didn’t. He cleared his throat. “I haven’t been.”

“Having sex?” Dustin asked in disbelief.

“Yes,” Eddie closed his eyes, bracing for all the usual questions. “I haven’t been having sex.”

“Why? Are you celibate? Are you waiting till marriage or something?”

“No…” He shook his head. “I just…”

“You do like girls, right?”

Dustin’s tone wasn’t accusatory or derogatory, just curious.

Eddie narrowed his eyes. “You go around asking people dangerous questions like that often, Henderson?”

“No. I’m not an idiot. Didn’t feel like a dangerous question to ask you. You don’t feel dangerous.” Dustin scowled. “Are you?”

Eddie allowed the corner of his mouth to tick up. “No, kid. I’m not dangerous. And to answer your question…” he shrugged. “Yeah. I like girls just fine.”

Dustin watched him closely, eyes darting between Eddie’s own. “But you don't prefer them?”

Eddie nodded. “Correct.”

Dustin nodded as well. “Okay. So you're like Will?”

“Not exactly. I like people… but I tend to lean towards the more… masculine side of things.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yeah, animals do it all the time right? Why would it be different for people? People are just animals with bigger brains and a higher endurance.”

“Debatable.”

“Scientific fact.”

Eddie sighed. “Suppose you’re right.”

“So… do you just not feel safe trying to find someone in an apocalypse or is there someone…?”

“From before?”

Dustin swallowed. Talking about pre-apocalyptic relationships was always heavy. Especially if they… weren’t here. 

“Yeah.” He agreed. “From before.”

“Yeah. I had someone. Have someone.” Eddie couldn’t look at him, continuing to work on the fence, unable to stomach the pitying looks he’d seen people get, people who still had hope they’d be reunited with their loved ones even after all this time. 

People like the Sinclair parents, the Buckley parents and Ms. Mayfield.

No one knew he was also one of those people.

And if he got his way, no one would ever know.

He didn’t need the fucking pity.

He didn’t think he could bear it if Dustin muttered out the dreaded, “I’m sorry.” 

But as always, the kid was full of surprises. “What’s his name?” It felt very deliberate, to ask what’s his name and not what was his name. Present tense. Intentional.

Eddie smirked to himself. A small little private thing, just for him. 

“Ken.”

There was the sound of shuffling as Dustin hummed. “I don’t think I know a Ken.”

“No.” Eddie replied. “I wouldn’t expect you to.”

AO3

So…

Hello!

I am back! I am officially bring my break to an end and that is a terrifying concept but I'm gonna do it anyway! Updates on this fic will be a little more sporadic than my previous ones as I get back into the swing of things but I am so happy to be back and I hope you enjoy this story! 🥰

Fic title and lyrics from Through The Valley by Shawn James but it was this version by Ashley Johnson as Ellie that truly captured me.

Big thanks as always to @hbyrde36 for the magnificent beta work and to the STWG for their motivation.

@geekymagicalpotato

[suuuupernovaaa]

Taxi Cab

Hobie Brown x f!Reader

She would never hurt anyone. He would hurt anyone for her.

Before Hobie, nothing very eventful ever happened in my life. I grew up in a happy home, went to a good school, and decided to become an art teacher. I got good grades, I made life long friendships with people similar to me, and I kept my head down and minded my business.

Though it's been nearly half a year since he came rocketing into my life, I still can't put my finger what exactly drew Hobie to me. We don't have a lot in common. Where I am passive, Hobie is active and fierce. Where I am lenient, Hobie is harsh. Until Hobie, I had never listened to punk music, considered anarchy, or pierced a single thing on my body.

Well, I still haven't done the last one. Besides my ears. Needles are too much for me. Sometimes I get nervous that the spikes on Hobie's wardrobe are going to stick me.

Hobie is a force. He's dangerous, he's passionate, he's larger than life. Being near Hobie is addictive. He has a gravity around him that draws people in, but it tends to spit them out at much the same rate.

For some reason, I've been able to hang on. Sometimes it feels like clinging for dear life, until he reminds me how much he cares.

Even though he can do that in odd ways.

Like tonight.

Ever since I met Hobie, trouble seems to follow me around. I've been mugged twice, had my tires slashed, and even had to move because someone broke into my apartment and trashed the place.

My parents are becoming increasingly alarmed, only satisfied in the fact that Spider-Punk always seems to be nearby. They don't necessarily approve of Spider-Punk (I mean, most don't), but they do at least appreciate that he seems to be looking out for me.

Which is so weird! Hobie can't figure it out either, but he says Spider-Punk is a narcissistic asshole who only saves people to get attention for himself.

He might just be mad that I said I thought Spider-Punk seemed like he'd be cute, under the mask.

I was hoping my luck had turned around and I wouldn't need to run into Spider-Punk again for a while, but I guess that was just silly optimism. On my way to Hobie's with two large bags of groceries in hand, I'm stopped suddenly in the middle of the sidewalk when a taxi cab crashes directly into a fire hydrant.

The fire hydrant lets loose a typhoon of water in my direction, and I scramble to the right to get out of the water, but it's too late. I'm soaked.

"Oi!" I hear the unmistakable sound of Hobie yelling. He was heading my direction after I told him the bags were getting heavy, and arrived just in time to witness the crash. He wrenches open the door of the car and pulls out the taxi driver. He seems unharmed, a little shaken up, with heavy bags under his eyes and a wobble in his step.

Drunk or high.

"You could've killed someone!" Hobie is shouting, looking over at me and then back at the driver. "I ought to kick your fucking arse." He pushes the man against the side of his cab as the water continues to spray. I drop the groceries, mostly ruined now, and approach Hobie.

The man is muttering something under his breath, and as I reach them, I can smell the liquor coming through his pores.

I grab Hobie's arm. "I'm okay. Come on."

"No, I saw it, he nearly killed you, Y/N. Just a few feet over, you'd be gone. Then I'd have to fuckin' kill him!" Hobie slams him against his car one more time, and I pull on his arm harder.

"But he didn't. The cops are on their way. Let's go. I need help carrying the groceries, and it's too cold for me to be all wet."

Hobie looks at me finally, really looks at me, and then with one more burning glance at the inebriated taxi driver, gruffly releases his collar and turns to me.

Effortlessly, he scoops me up into his arms, bridal-style, and I gasp. He strides with ease over to our drowned groceries, and bends down, picking them up in his hands.

"Jesus, have you been working out?" I ask.

His face is too tense for a smile, but the corners of his mouth twitch. Despite my protests, he carries me into his building and up three flights of stairs, only setting me down once we are safe inside the walls of his apartment.

Without me asking, he goes into his room and brings out a pair of leggings I've left here before, and one of his t-shirts. I change in the bathroom, drying my hair as best I can with a towel, before going back to the kitchen to see what can be salvaged of the groceries.

"I think I can still do something with this! The bread is gone but, homemade bread crumbs aren't like, necessary. They're just fancy." I turn to see Hobie leaning against the kitchen counter, arms crossed, still scowling. "Uh, or I can go to the store, if the homemade bread crumbs were like, important."

I let out a yelp of surprise when Hobie pushes himself off the counter and strides towards me, grabbing me by the shoulders and bringing me to him for a rough, passionate kiss.

In moments, I meld into him, wrapping my arms around his waist as his fingers find their way into my hair, and his tongue enters my mouth.

This kiss feels different. Urgent, feverish, desperate. He holds me tightly, pressing me so close to him it feels like he wants us to be one person, like he would climb right into my skin.

I pull away for just a moment, gasping for breath. "Are you okay?" I say on an exhale.

Hobie stares down at me intensely, his hands still in my hair, his eyes wild and the corners of his mouth turned downward.

"I would do anything to keep you safe," he says flatly. "There's no limit to what I'd do."

I bring my hands up to his face, cupping his cheeks, nodding. "I know, Hobie."

"I would have killed that man if you hadn't stopped me."

I know he's exaggerating to make a point, but a chill runs up my spine a the way he says it so calmly, with no hint of irony. I remember his chest heaving, the wild look in his eyes as he held that drunk man up against his own car.

He looked out for blood.

"I'm okay, Hobie. So are you."

"Move in with me. You hate that new place. Stay here."

We've only known each other six months. We're barely adults. I make no money as a new teacher and I honestly haven't figured out how Hobie seems to make so much money off the gigs he plays. It's too soon to move in together. It's not smart.

But I love him. And he loves me. We haven't said it yet, but I don't know that we need to. I can see it in his eyes, feel it while he holds me, taste it on his lips.

He loves me.

"Okay."

"Today. Like, we can get your stuff later, but don't sleep there anymore. Stay with me."

I nod and lean forward, pressing my forehead to his chest. His hands finally leave my hair, and wrap tightly around my shoulders. I listen to his heartbeat - rapid at first, but as we stand there, silently clinging to each other, it begins to slow down.

He's pressing soft kisses to the top of my head, humming quietly, and I've never felt more in love.

I've never felt more cared for, more loved in return, more safe.

Six months or sixty years. I don't think it matters.

[nyashykyunnie]

˗ˏˋ Zayne x Lemurian! Fem! Reader: Ebb Day ◛⑅·˚ ༘ ♡ ˎˊ˗

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚𝔻𝕠𝕔𝕥𝕠𝕣 ℤ𝕒𝕪𝕟𝕖˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

・┆✦ Entry : 040 ✦ ┆・

[ Reader is Related to Rafayel because I said so<3]

╰┈➤ ❝ [ My Ocean Belongs To You ] ¡! ❞

"Zayne, do you like art galleries?" "Yes. How come you're asking?" "My big brother is hosting an art gallery<33. Wanna come with me:0?" "When is it?" "Saturday in the afternoon!" "Sure."

And that was how Zayne found himself in this situation, while you sported a pretty little frilly long dress— He was simply wearing his typical black dress shirt and trousers. Of course, he was secretly staring at you the whole time, he's always been interested in you but never had once vocalized it nor has he ever openly made it obvious or even drop hints.

Besides, he had been a little stressed from work as of late. He had to deal with a lot of troublesome patients during the weekdays and there were too many close calls on his surgeries as of late so he badly needed to take his mind off of the hospital even just for a bit.

And you are his favourite kind of cure.

Zayne followed behind you as you pranced in your steps, guiding him to the location of the art gallery. it didn't take the both of you too long to arrive to the place.

Fine and extremely detailed canvases were attached to the walls, each one unique on their own.

Zayne wasn't much of a painter, he could only sketch since he had to draw a lot of anatomical diagrams back when he was still in medical school.

"Your brother is very skilled" Zayne says as his gaze landed on the different pieces.

"Right?" You beam, hopping in your steps even more happily as you admire your cousin's works. "He's always working hard on his paintings."

He follows behind you, admiring the image of you more than he does admiring the pretty paintings around the both of you.

"Ah, there he is!" You spring into happy little skips as you made your way towards a man with deep purple hair boredly leaning on the wall and fiddling with a pen in his fingers. "Oppa!"

"Geez, pipe down, I can hear you just fine" He says in a sarcastic but gentle voice as his bluish-pink eyes similar to yours land on you. "I thought you were joking when you said you'll visit"

"Oppa will be disappointed if I didn't" You grin, making him roll his eyes.

"Who is this?" His gaze falls on Zayne, pushing himself off of the wall.

"I'm Zayne" He introduces himself.

"Zayne..." The name rolls off of the painter's tongue, pondering as he tries to remember where he has heard it before. "Ah yes, you're my sister's doctor, right? She wont stop yapping about you I almost went deaf from it. I'm Rafayel"

"Oppa!" You protest, smacking his arm.

"Hey, ow!" Rafayel fake winces, a dramatic expression on his face as he gasped. "Guppy, that is not how you treat your older brother! Isn't family supposed to love eachother?"

"As if!" You stick your tongue out at Rafayel and Zayne stood awkwardly in between this little banter.

"Pfft," He scoffs, rubbing the spot you had hit. "Still as feisty as ever like a sea urchin."

"You're as round and ridiculous as a puffer fish" You bite back.

"...." Zayne felt like he really shouldn't be here at this moment.

"Anyway, I'm gonna go off there and greet Thomas" You say in a childish, high pitched voice as you point at a direction and storm off.

Zayne shook his head, wanting to follow you but found it rude if he left your brother all alone without a proper conversation. Besides, he could see you in his peripheral vision.

"I meant it though." Rafayel starts, humming as continued playing with the pen absentmindedly. "She speaks very highly of you like a little baby dolphin learning how to jump off of water for the first time."

"...I'm glad she thinks so, but I'm only doing my job as her doctor" Zayne answers, pushing his eyeglasses back.

"Isn't that what every doctor says?" Rafayel scoffs, crossing his arms as both men overlooked you who is happily chatting with Thomas and asking about some paintings. "My little sister is a handful, isn't she?"

"Well," Zayne hums, deciding to play along with Rafayel. "She often doesn't listen to her doctor's orders and is somehow scared of staying in the hospital at night believing ghosts might swallow her."

"...Did she actually say that?" Rafayel cocks up an eyebrow.

"She did." Zayne simply confirms while watching you prance back to them and tug at Rafayel's arm.

"Oppa, oppa, I want the pretty puzzle piece music box, get it for me!" You say childishly, pulling at Rafayel's hand.

"Hey, I'm not a wallet" Rafayel groans but allows himself to be dragged over to the gift store area.

Zayne followed you both, watching as the two of you bantered on and on. He could tell that Rafayel spoiled you a lot, watching as he keep saying sarcastic remarks and marine related insults while letting you pull him around.

"You're a grown woman now and a hunter, why exactly do you need a music box puzzle?" Rafayel rolls his eyes.

"Because it helps!" You reason out, shooting a hopeful look at Zayne. "Right doctor Zayne? Right?"

"Puzzle making and achieving to finish it can certainly boost dopamine production," Zayne replies, sighing as he realizes what you are using him for. "As for sleep, well, music boxes can certainly help lull you to sleep."

"Ugh, using your doctor card on me, really?" Rafayel groans, but pays for the puzzle piece anyway. "Now shoo, there's an ice cream store at the front. Your brother is buisy doing grown-up stuff so children should behave."

"I'm not a 2 year old!" You say as you hold the now packaged puzzle piece before storming off.

"...." Zayne was about to follow behind you until he heard Rafayel's voice again.

"Do you know about Lemuria? There's a secret rumour amongst their merpeople" he says, "Every year there's a day when the tide is low, and it flows in the opposite direction. It's on that day that Lemurians are at their weakest hence why they keep it a secret. Even the weakest humans can end them if they so please."

"Then how come you know of this?" Zayne inquires.

"Well, it's a fairy tale" Rafayel dismisses his question. "She's waiting for you"

Zayne nods his head politely before going towards your direction.

Throughout the whole time on the ice cream shop, he keeps thinking of what Rafayel said. And for some reason, he can;t take it off his mind.

Despite that, he chooses to just focus on the you who is busily munching on the ice cream he had bought for you earlier.

"Slow down, it's not going anywhere" He says, picking up a napkin and wiping the cream off of your cheek.

"But it's just so yummy!" You protest.

"I know," Zayne nods his head, "But still, eat a little more slowly.

"...Okay" You pout.

Zayne shakes his head, smiling faintly as he found the whole situation a little ridiculous. He could tell Rafayel thought that he spoils you too. After all, he's putting up with your childish antiques and scolds you as if you were a small child.

Overall, this litle... Outing turned out well since he met your older brother.

⋅ ˚ ₊ ‧ ଳ ‧ ₊ ˚ ⋅ ⋆ ౨ৎ ˚ ⟡ ˖ ࣪

For the past two weeks, Rafayel's words bothered Zayne over and over. It kept repeating in his mind and it even echoes in his ears whenever he woke up. It's a miracle he didn't have any surgeries these days and managed to keep a proffesional act despite it high bothering him.

To add to that, you havent texted or called him a single time.

Sure, you're not required to talk to him all the time but today seemed particularly different as it nagged him.

Zayne pinches the bridge of his nose, sighing in frustration as he finished up the last of his reports.

He then reached for his phone and instantly dialed your number.

Thankfully enough, you picked up.

"Hello?" You voice was horrible, making Zayne immediately alarmed.

"Are you alright? your voice is a little rough" He inquires, taking his doctor's coat off. and grabbing his keys.

"No... Fever"

"A fever?" He sighs, storming out the hallways and into the parking lot. "You're home, aren't you? Have you taken your temperature and drank medicine?"

"Cant..." You breathe heavily. "Too weak."

"Stay in bed." Zayne said as he hopped into his car and brought life to the engine. "I'll come."

He then dropped the phone call as he drived out of the hospital and towards your apartment.

Zayne knew deep inside it was probably just as a normal fever, but there's a surge of panic in him as he hurried over. The moment Zayne parked, he hurriedly went upstairs. He was irrational with the way his mind is overthinking things.

Surely it's just a fever.

A fever.

Zayne opened the door to your apartment and quietly locked it behind him then going to your bedroom where he found you curled up in your bed.

"I'm here" Zayne says with a gentle voice, his tone a little lower than usual as he gently pries off the blanket off of your face and placed a palm on your forehead.

"Ngh... Zayne" You whine a little.

"Ssh," He said, removing his palm and reaching for the bedside drawer and pulled out the thermometer.

Zayne took your temperature and cocked up an eyebrow at the results.

You're burning up and yet you have a normal temperature. He aimed it at himself and gave back a good result too, meaning it's not broken or playing tricks.

"???" Zayne looks at you, wanting an explanation.

"Water... Please." You whisper.

He rescinds in demanding an explanation, your voice isn't fake and neither is that glazed over look on your face.

"Stay here, don't pull the blanket over your head" Zayne said, getting up from his seat.

He was running a number of possible explanations on why you're feeling the way you do. Maybe it's stress induced, or something. Perhaps a better option now is not to ponder but take you to the hospital because it might be a dangerous situation.

He walks back into the bedroom and sat paused,

"...." Zayne places the glass down, crouching down towards you and observes the glittering blue things on your face.

'That wasn't there earlier' He thought, his forehead knitting as he reached to brush a finger on your cheek where the crystal like things glimmered.

The touch caused you to whimper a little and he pulled his hand back immediately.

"Every year there's a day when the tide is low, and it flows in the opposite direction. It's on that day that Lemurians are at their weakest hence why they keep it a secret. Even the weakest humans can end them if they so please."

Rafayel's words repeat in his mind.

"Zayne..." You mumble, curling over to him before trying to get up.

"Your face,..." He inquires, helping you sit up while another hand reached to place pillows against the headboard and laying you against it. "Lemuria?"

He hesitated at the question, watching your expression droop.

"...Sorry." You apologize.

"There's nothing to be sorry for" He said, reaching up to fix the blanket on your lap. "Are you feeling like this because of ebb day? The tides being low and the water flowing backwards?"

"..." You look up at him, alarmed. "How? Who? Y-you're not supposed to know those."

'Ah..' Zayne mentally curses at himself for being too brash on his approach.

"Your brother, Rafayel, he told me" He said, and felt relieved as you calm down.

"...That's funny" You mumbles. "He told me to never tell anyone and yet he told you. Big brother trusted you with a secret depsite just meeting."

Zayne didn't answer, wondering too why the painter would do that but froze as he felt you nuzzle his shoulder.

"..."

"You're not mad... Or weirded out?" You ask.

Zayne shakes his head, reaching up and gently stroked your head. "Why would I? Just because you're not... Human?"

"Yes?"

"I'm not" He shakes his head, gently pulling you over to his lap so he can hold you more properly and you can rest more comfortably on his shoulder. "There's no reason to. It just makes me a little concerned that maybe my treatment plans on you dont work or worst, it could be detrimental to you."

"We're the same as humans" you explains. "Just... Different in a lot of waya. I get hungry and get sick like humans. So it's fine."

"I see." He hums, stroking your head.

He almost wanted to nuzzle his nose on your head but stopped himself.

"You won't hurt me, right?" You ask, fidgeting. "Brother said that humans would abuse a creature's weakness once they find out."

"Never" He said, pausing in his ministrations on your strands. "I would never hurt the person I like. If anything, I wish to protect you"

He brings your hand up to his lips, and kisses the inside of your palm.

"I would never, ever hurt you." He shakes his head, those intense amber-green eyes. "Not now, not in the future, never in my lifetime nor in the next ones. No matter who or what you are, I will never hurt you"

꒰ A/N: I'm just so weak against Zayne pls sniffsniff. I love him sm I just want to hold this silly man. I wanna cuddle this precious man qwq!!! My precious Zayne TT. This man is fr one of my biggest comfort character. I can't wait for his birthday event in september. Also I'm srry if u cringe at the feesh insults its my kind of humor xDD!! ꒱

ʚ(੭´͈ ᐜ `͈)੭ .｡✧･ﾟ: ~♡ —! stories written by kyunnie; translations, reposts, plagiarism are strictly forbidden.

[xhoess]

Paint me

Spencer reid × fem bod! Reader

Masterlist

Summary: when you get an assignment from your art teacher are completely lost. You need a model to pose for your painting but the problem is no-one wants to, because they would have to go naked. When you go to the bar with a friend and her colleagues you find the perfect model for your painting.

Genre: smut with plot?

Story under cut!!

"Sure I will be there soon" you say to Penelope who is on the other side of the phone "okay great! See you soon girl" she said before hanging up.

You just agreed to go to a bar not to far from your apartment to hang with your close friend Penelope and her colleagues, you had met a few of them already but you don't really remember them. But every time when Penelope talks about her colleagues you can't help but laugh about the way she describes this one guy named Spence. He seems cute.

Lately you have been very busy with your school assignments and you almost have no time left to spend with friends. Now you only have one assignment to but you consider dropping it because you can't seem to find a model who want to sit for you. Wich you get because they would have to be naked for it.

But you try to not think about it for tonight, so you quickly get up and put on your shoes before walking out of the door straight to the bus stop. You weren't gonna ride yourself because you where not planning on staying sober tonight.

Once you arrive at the bar Penelope gives you a big hug, "guys you remember y/n right?" She says while Turing to the rest of the group. A younger, kinda cute looking man stands up and holds his hand out to be shook "Hi y/n, I'm spencer reid" you smile at his gesture and grab his hand to shake is "Hi Spencer, nice to meet you I'm y/n l/n"

You may have hold the eye contact a little bit too long because Penelope and Emily were looking at each other and it looked like they were having a telepathic conversation with their facial expressions. And from that moment on you knew Penelope was not gonna leave you alone and tease you about spencer for probably a lifetime.

"So y/n how's school" Emily asks, "oh please, you don't wanna hear about my boring art problems I promise you" you laugh, but she insisted that it was not boring and that they all would love to hear at least one 'boring problem" so you gave in. "Okay, there is this assignment and I need to turn it in next week and it's totally stressing me out, I can't seem to find a model to pose for me"

"I am sure reid would love to pose for you" Derek teases, but you didn't expect spencer to say "i Mean I don't see the harm in it so I think I would do it" "spencer that is really sweet but it has to be a naked portrait" you blurt out.

Spencer chokes on his drink and is bight red by now "I did not know that" He said, his voice ten times higher than the Last time he spoke. Cute you thought.

The evening went on and the subject of the painting died down pretty quick, but the more drinks you have the more you start to think about painting Spencer, you start to scan his body from his legs to his face but when you reach his eye level you see that he has been staring at you too. He suddenly gets and walks towards the bar, but the way he lingers his eyes for a second too long when he walks away makes your legs feel weak.

You follow, Penelope asks where you are going but before you can answer her you had already left. You where sure you're not thinking straight but you couldn't care less.

Once you reach the bar you search for spencer, you thought he was walking this way but maybe you were wrong. As you start to question yourself a person comes behind you, and softly grabs your hips. He leans closer and whispers in your ear "paint me"

But his voice wasn't the squeaky high one you heard before, it was way lower and it made your legs go weak. You turn around and face spencer. "You wanna get out of here?" You ask, hoping he would say yes.

He said yes and grabs your hand to lead you to his car, that was maybe the best part. He didn't even had a single drop of alcohol and you made him come with you and probably have sex within the first 5 hours of knowing each other.

But at the booth where you guys were sitting Derek nudges Penelope, "babygirl look our plan worked they are gonna hook up" he said proudly, "Oh my God I wanna hear all the details about this from y/n" she giggles.

This may have been the longest 10 minute car ride of your life but when you finally got inside your apartment there was no time wasted. Spencer carefully pushed you against the wall next to the entrance of your apartment and connects his lips with yours. You're surprised with the force of the kiss, you expected spencer to be a sweet, soft guy in bed but this kiss is already proving that you're wrong.

He taps your tighs as a sign for you to jump, and you do, he is lifting you up and carrying you to the bedroom. "I've been waiting for this all night" He said while laying you down on the bed.

He started kissing the crook of your neck and you groaned in response. He definitely liked that sound comming from you because he moves his hands to the buttons of your blouse and starts to undress you. But he was surprised when you bucked your hips up to create friction between the two of you. He stopped his moves for a good 2 seconds before continuing to undress you.

Once you were undressed he started to kiss your whole body from top to bottom "God you look so good" He mumbled against your skin.

His hands ghost over your pussy and you shiver, "spencer please" "please what baby" He says sweetly "please put your damn fingers in me already or I am gonna do it myself" you say before pulling him into a kiss again. Spencer did not wait any longer to insert his fingers, you arch your back and moan his name. If his fingers get you off this much already you can't wait for his cock.

Luckily for you, once spencer was done stretching you out he unbuckeld his belt, but you stopped his tracks. "Let me" you say while switching positions with him.

Your leaking pussy is now straddling his hard on. "Ngm- y/n don't tease me like that" He says.

You take of his pants and underwear in one smooth motion and start to stoke his length. Once you think you wet him enough you start to straddle his lap again. "Are you clean?" You ask, he nods "yes , I am" "okay me too, so no condom" and you swear you felt his dick twitch at the thought of comming inside of you.

You line up with his dick and start to sink down, the stretch is unbelievably good but your mind gets thrown off when spencer switches the positions between you too. His dick is almost fully in and and spencer grabs your hand and lays in on your belly.

"Do you feel that" He asks, and you swear you have never lost your mind so badly. Once spencer was fully inside of you, you could feel the top of his dick poking in your skin, your hand is grazing over it and spencer can't hold it back any longer.

He starts to move his hips in a smooth motion, pulling in and out in a quick pace. You throw your head back and grab his arms, you are sure you left a few marks there but you couldn't care less.

"I can't hold it much longer" you say "that's okay, me neither" He breaths out in the crook of your neck. Not much later spencer throws his head back in pleasure and let's out a long moan. His load shooting into you.

"You where so good for me" He said while pulling out fully. This may have been the best you ever had.

An hour later you and spencer where all cleaned up and ready for bed, you admired him when he walked towards you in only his boxers.

"I did indeed find the perfect model"

Please leave a like If you liked it!

[ladykailitha]

Never Hold Back Your Step... Part 2

Hey, hey! I told you you'd see more this story soon.

In this one, Nancy and Steve butt heads, and Eddie and Steve talk about having to hide their relationship. Then it gets a little spicy.

Part 1

@mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @emly03

****

Going to regionals proved to be a sticking point between him and Nancy. Every time she got within speaking distance it was all she would talk about. Even sweet, patient Jonathan was starting to get annoyed.

That strange limbo of a week after state and a before regionals it all finally came to a head.

“All I’m saying is that the money could go to the arts,” Nancy said when Eddie, Steve, and Jonathan all rolled their eyes.

“The swim relay team going to regionals is a big deal,” Steve huffed. “It’s unprecedented. A school of Hawkins’ size has never made it to regionals. In fact Couch Hall was saying that we might even have a chance at nationals. Like a really good chance. We could break records. Lyle, Nick, and Ezra have good chances of being scouted to college teams. Hell I have a good chance of being scouted.

“But I’m talking specifically about them because they need the scholarship to get into the nicer schools. Why can’t you let this little vendetta against the swim team getting to go to regionals go? I’m sorry funding was cut to the newspaper. I am. But stop blaming the four of us for it.”

He slammed his locker and strode away leaving a very stunned trio in his wake.

Eddie licked the bottom of his lip. “Look, I’m not going to pretend I understand why he’s still friends with either of you,” he turned to Jonathan with a nod, “no offense, man.”

Jonathan scoffed. “None taken. Honest.” He held up his hands to show he meant no harm.

Nancy stomped her foot. “It’s none of your business.”

Eddie leaned over her. “Now that’s where you’re wrong, Steve will always be my business and if you can’t let this sports thing go, maybe avoid him until it’s over.”

She rolled her eyes. “Like you care about sports anymore than I do.”

“You’re right,” he said with a menacing growl. “I don’t care about sports, but I sure as hell care about Steve. He wants to be happy about making it to regionals, but you won’t let him. Knock it off.”

“Fine.”

“You’re a smart girl, if you want more money funded to the arts,” Eddie said, “you’ll find a better way then by harassing your ex.” He turned on his heel and went off to find Steve.

*

If Steve avoided his locker for the next week, with Eddie or Jeff getting his stuff for him, his friends wisely said nothing. Eddie wasn’t sure if Nancy had taken his advice or if Steve was successfully dodging her, but it didn’t matter because he feel the change come over Steve like a warm welcoming blanket. He was focused on the upcoming meet and practicing every day after school with relay team and was happier then in had been in a long time.

Eddie also tried to push down the jealousy that boiled up in his stomach every time he saw Nick or Lyle sharing a joke with Steve as they walked out from practice to him waiting for them in the parking lot.

The only thing that kept Eddie from marching over there and staking his claim was that Steve would say goodbye as soon as he spotted Eddie. They could be in the middle of the greatest discovery known to man, but as soon as Steve saw Eddie in the parking lot, he would say his goodbyes and trot over to where he would be standing outside his van.

Once they were on their way, Eddie asked, “What do you tell them about me picking you up from practice?”

Steve took a deep breath. “I told them my car wasn’t working and that I had to wait until my parents were home again to get it fixed.”

“And when it suddenly works again next week?” Eddie asked with a raised eyebrow.

Steve grinned. “Miraculous!” He waved his hands in the air.

Eddie huffed out a laugh. “Yeah, okay.”

Steve took his hand. “I know this is hard for you and I want you to know it’s hard for me too.” He played with the singular ring on Eddie’s right hand.

“Yeah?” Eddie breathed.

“I don’t know if you ever had to witness the trainwreck of my relationship with Nancy,” he murmured, “but I’m super touchy-feely boyfriend. I Iike kissing by my locker, I like picking them up and spinning them around as a greeting, I like touching them in some way, like all the time. And that I can’t with you is killing me.”

Eddie pulled off to the side of the road. “Sweetheart, why didn’t you say something?” He had been feeling like he was alone in his fears, but hearing Steve’s confession cracked open something in him. A protective instinct to hide this boy away from every bad thing in the world.

Steve continued to play with the ring. “I didn’t want you to think I was being too clingy.”

Clingy.

That word. That horrible little word. It was final. He was going to go over to Nancy’s Wheeler’s house and forcibly make her apologize to Steve for every little thing he could think of. She took the sweetest, goofiest little dork and broke him to the point he lost all confidence in himself.

Steve had been firm that there was bad blood on both sides of his former relationship with Nancy Wheeler, but Eddie still had a hard time seeing that scales were anything but unbalanced in favor of Steve coming up roses. Like literal fucking roses. Steve had said that he had gotten sidetracked by Dustin when he went to apologize to her for their fight, and he had bought actual fucking roses. That girl did not deserve Steve in the slightest.

Eddie grabbed Steve’s hand and held it tightly in his. “Baby, have you met me? I make literal koalas look standoffish. But it is going to be way harder for you then for me. I’m used to people thinking the absolute worse about me. I don’t like it, but it’s a fact of my existence.” He brought Steve’s fingers to his lips. “You, on the other hand, went from...”

Eddie closed his eyes. “I don’t want to say being able to get away with anything. Because even I know that’s bullshit. But it was pretty damn close. And now you’re off the basketball team and they didn’t even make it to district finals much less state because you weren’t there. You’re still making waves with the swim team–”

Steve giggled.

“Laugh it up, smart ass,” Eddie snarked. “You knew what I meant.”

Steve ducked his head. “I know, but listening to you always makes me happy inside and that was too delicious a pun to pass up.”

“I make you happy, baby?” Eddie murmured, leaning across the center console.

Steve nodded, his blush tinting more than just his cheeks red. The flushing skin went from the tips of his ears all the way down that delicious column of throat.

“You make me happy, too,” Eddie breathed. “But the point I was trying to make is that I’m used to sneaking around, even if I don’t like it anymore then you do. It’s going to be a lot harder for you, and it’s something I’m going to have be reminded of once in a while, okay?”

Steve smiled, his eyes sparkling with warmth.

“Now come on,” Eddie said, pulling back into traffic. “I need to get you to my place, because Uncle Wayne isn’t home and I would really, really like to hear all the pretty sounds you make when you’re in my bed.”

Steve ducked his head.

“I need to see how far down that blush goes,” Eddie growled.

“Then you better step on it,” Steve whispered, lowering his eyelids and looking up at him through his eyelashes.

Eddie hit the gas and prayed to the traffic gods that a cop didn’t pull them over as he shifted in his seat to try get his erection to shift so it wasn’t so painful against his zipper.

*

They were barely through the door when they fell all over each other. Hands and mouths seeking their favorites spots on each other’s bodies. They grasped at the clothes that became a barrier to their want. By the time the backs of Steve’s knees hit the edge of Eddie’s bed, Steve was only wearing one loose sock and Eddie was completely naked.

“Baby,” Steve whispered. “I need you.”

Eddie let out feral growl as he bullied Steve onto the bed, tossing the sock over his shoulder. “Thinking of you in that skimpy little Speedo, water dripping down your toned, tan chest as you exit the pool, gets me so hard baby.”

Steve grinned. “You like that?”

Eddie grounded his cock into Steve’s and Steve let out a breathy moan. “It’s why I haven’t been able to actually watch you practice, Stevie. You’re practically sin on legs when you look like that.”

“If I’m sin, Eds,” Steve whined, “then you’re the devil himself.”

“Sap,” Eddie teased. He pecked a kiss on his boyfriend’s lips. “God, I love you so much.”

Steve wrapped his hand around Eddie’s neck, slipping underneath the curtain of curls. He pulled him closer. “I love you, too.”

Their bodies moving in time with their breath. Hands clasped together as Eddie continued to make the most delicious sounds come out of Steve. Breathy moans, little gasps, his name bubbling from those kissable lips. Eddie devoured each one. And then with one final shuddering gasp Steve came. Eddie swallowed that one, too before his own release came with a grunt.

Eddie got up and cleaned them off. He then slid into the bed next to Steve.

Steve pulled him close, so they were cuddling, Eddie’s head resting on his chest.

“I’m sorry you can’t be as affectionate as you want in public, sweetheart,” Eddie murmured. “Does it ever...I mean do you ever–”

Steve squeezed him tightly. “Never. You keep saying how hard it is for me and while that’s true up to a point, there is no doubt in my mind that this is worth it.”

Eddie raised his head. “Yeah?”

Steve kissed him deeply. “Always.”

****

Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16

Just a little heads up for this story, the first part of this story is NOT Nancy friendly. She feels vindicated about cheating on Steve because he is gay and really takes it out on him. Nancy and Jonathan also don't know that Steve wrote that comic book for Eddie and Eddie is more aware then they think he is.

Tag List: @spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @chaoticlovingdreamer @maya-custodios-dionach @danili666 @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @i-must-potato @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog @justforthedead89 @vecnuthy @irregular-child @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @anne-bennett-cosplayer @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten @genderless-spoon @counting-dollars-counting-stars @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @dragonmama76 @scheodingers-muppet @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @angels-of-hades @mugloversonly

[s0urw00lf]

Trouble

Request: Hi, I was wondering since you write for the marauders if you could write a fic (even just a short one) where Y/n is a professor at hogwarts and was kinda familiar with the marauders while at school.

So when Remus accept the job they get close and they kinda have to sneak around because it's not professional to date a colleague.

Pairing: Remus lupin x reader

Summary: Y/n had always taken a special interest into the marauders, specifically the tall lanky book nerd they she competed with from top of the class in school. Now over 10 years later they finally became more than just friendly rivals, but in secret.

Warnings: fluff, sneakin around, and overly nosy snape.

AN: the day I write a short fic will be the day I run out of imagination. Because for some reason I have to give backstory, build up, and THEN I get to the point, also i write on my computer so it looks like a lot less than what I’m actually writing. (Update: I didn’t write a lot for this because I’m tired and wanted to get it done) Anyway thank you for the submission and I hope you enjoy.

Something about him had always intrigued you. Maybe it was how smart he was, his beautiful brown doe eyes, or the way he always seemed to be the most rational thinker of all his friends.

You didn’t know, and you didn’t care to. All you knew was that you liked him. A lot. In school you two were friendly rivals competing for the best grades but nothing more than that. You wished it were though, and you were going to ask him out but the war against the dark lord escalated so quickly one moment you were students running around Hogwarts trying to make it to class on time and the next you were trying to avoid any sudden deaths.

After that, you completely lost contact with him. To be honest you forgot all about him until you were informed by Minerva that he’d be taking up the position of the new DADA teacher. “Wait you said Remus lupin?” You tried as hard as you could to keep your expression neutral, and you did as far as you knew. “Yes y/n Remus Lupin will be the new defense against the dark arts teacher” she replied eyeing you through her glasses with the faintest smirk ever, before excusing herself.

“Still pining mindlessly over him after all this time. Figures.” Severus quipped in his usual monotone voice after McGonnogal walked away. “You’re one to talk” you replied eyeing him with a glare and walking away. When you got back to your classroom you let out the girliest squeal you could. You may or may not have ever gotten over your small crush on the boy man.

𐂂𓅓𓆗⚯❾¾ ▕⃝⃤

About a month later school had started back and the hustle and bustle of the school had returned. Even though it had been a week into school, you still had yet to run into Remus, much to your dismay. Until one night you were carrying a load of textbooks you borrowed from Professor Flitwick back to your classroom and kept dropping them. Eventually, you gave up and just plopped down to the floor contemplating how you were gonna get these textbooks to your classroom without your wand. “You know you could always ask for help” a smooth voice spoke from behind you, causing you to jump, and turn around. “Godric Remus a little warning next time would be nice, jeez,” you said placing a hand to your chest feeling your heart racing out of control. “My apologies i forgot how easy it is to sneak around these halls” he chuckled. You let out a small laugh and turned back to the books, “I would’ve but I didn’t want to disturb anyone” you said standing up, and putting your hands on your hips. He bent down to pick up a little over half of the books “Well lucky you, I’m here undisturbed and happy to help” he teased. You rolled your eyes with a small smile, he still had his boyish charm from when you were kids. You picked up the remaining books off of the floor, “well since you’re so eager, follow me” you teased, leading him back to your classroom.

As time went on you and Remus became closer and closer, maybe closer than you should’ve been. The kids noticed it, how you’d always sat beside each other in the great hall, or when you’d have conjoined lessons. But one thing you didn’t expect was when Snape started popping in out of the blue. Remus sat at his desk grading papers with one hand on your thigh as you sat on his desk reading a book, The only noise filling the room was the sound of his quill scribbling on the papers. That was until the door to the classroom opened and Snape swiftly walked through. Remus discreetly removed his hand from your thigh “You know a knock would be nice” you stated with irritation. He stopped at the desk “Knocking would indicate you’re doing something you wouldn’t want anyone to see” he sneered, placing a bottle of potion on the desk for Remus “It's called common courtesy, mama ever teach you about it?” You said sliding off of the table to face him fully. The scowl on his face made you want to give the most satisfied smirk but you decided against it. He then turned to Remus “Make sure you drink it before the end of the week I'll have you another by the time the full moon comes around”

Remus thanked him, and he made his exit. You groaned “he’s like the annoying cousin who’s always trying to get you in trouble” you whined. Remus grabbed your hips bringing you closer “Has he been like that all these years?” He asked looking up at you. You ran your hands through his hair softly scratching his scalp, “you have to ask? He’s been like that since we were kids” you snorted. Remus chuckled leaning his head back and closing his eyes. He looked like he was being touched by an angel. You leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. Pulling away slightly “Even if he did find out, he’d never tell. He knows better” and returned to the kiss until he pulled away “I don’t want his face in my head while I’m kissing you love,” he said. you winced “Fair point, no more Snape. Just us,” you said moving to sit on his lap so you would have to keep leaning over to kiss him.