#and i only wore it a few times but besides that its gonna be a no from me on any new cosplays

[creaturecorpse]

Just a heads up cause I still get followers sometimes for my old homestuck cosplay but I most likely won't post any hs content again

[writingsbychlo]

HIDE AND SEEK | mattheo riddle

summary; you and mattheo play a little game on hallowe’en.

word count; 9058

notes; don’t forget to check out the sister fic to this one by @azrielscrown, we did a lil joint thing, and you can see me making some cameos if you wanna hang out 😉 we’ve been keeping this lil secret for WEEKS and I’m so happy we can finally share it with you all <3

“Sit still, will you?” Your giggle echoed off of the stone walls in Mattheo’s bathroom. He scoffed, shuffling between his feet once again. 

“S’not my fault it tickles! I don’t know how you girls do this every day, don’t the brushes make you want to sneeze?” His nose scrunched up as he spoke, but he let you continue to set the wet paint around his face with powder. His eyes focused on you, you could feel the stare as you observed the photograph he was holding up, a cut-out piece of a magazine. “You’re pretty when you’re focused.”

“And you’re distracting me,” You switched brushes, slapping at his hand as his fingers began to tease at your thigh. Returning it to its place on the counter beside your thigh, he shuffled between your legs impatiently once again, and pouted. “I can’t do your makeup like that. Smooth your face out.”

“Kiss.”

“Mattheo—”

“Kiss!” He repeated, and the smile you wore was against your control as you leaned in, pecking his lips softly, doing your best not to smudge the makeup you’d already applied around the centre of his face. It was too short and chaste for his liking, that much was clear when you pulled away as he licked at your lower lip, a whine coming from him as he chased you forward, only to be foiled by a chuckle, and a hand on his chest.

“I’m not redoing this for you if you make a mess of it! I don’t have time, I still have to get ready myself. Party starts in less than an hour, you know.”

“I know.” Mattheo grouched, smoothing his features out as you ran a thumb over his lips, refocusing on painting the skeletal features onto his face. “Y’know, you still haven’t told me what your costume is going to be.”

“You’d know if you’d gone for a couples costume with me. Stop moving your mouth.”

“That’s not fair!” He cringed and the brush slipped right into his mouth, leaving a streak of wet paint across his tongue, and you raised your brows. “I had to go with the boys, I couldn't be the only one who didn’t join in!”

“I’m messing with you, honey. Now, stop talking.” He merely grumbled behind closed lips, but his eyes were sparkling. He remained still and quiet, letting you paint the final pieces of his makeup around his mouth, stretching the creepy, toothy grin across his cheeks. Plucking the picture from his fingers and holding it up, you glanced a few times between it and your boyfriend, shrugging with a sigh. “That’s as good as it’s gonna’ get.”

Standing straight and moving to the mirror, his jaw dropped a little, hand rising but fingers never quite touching his face, tipping his head side to side to observe it. “Damn, baby, this is better than just ‘good’, it’s great!”

“Yeah? Good enough for your little boy’s night scare fest?”

“Don’t call it that, but yes.” Reaching for his hand, you tugged him back toward you, standing him before you and shaking the bottle in your hand. “What’s that?”

“Special setting spray. Close your eyes.” He did as told, eyes closing as you unpopped the lid. “I warn you, it may take some serious scrubbing after this to get the paint off, might leave some stains.”

“Wait, what—” You sprayed it across his face, and a choked sound between a gag and a cough left him as you covered his skin in a thick layer of the spray. Flapping your hand over his face to help his glistening skin dry, his frown deepened, hands reaching for you blindly, and gripping your hips. “I feel like my eyelids just got glued shut.”

“You’re so dramatic.” He cracked his eyes back open, several blinks and a few funny faces to adjust the stiffness, before he was tapping lightly at his skin, fingers pulling away clean. “You should still be careful with it, but it should hold. Just don’t… rub your face, or get any drinks thrown at it by scared party-goers.”

“Always ruining my fun.” Mattheo’s wistful sigh had you laughing once again, slipping down from the counter and slipping your hands under the edge of his baggy shirt. Lifting it up carefully and guarding his face, he raised his arms up, helping to slip off the shirt without disturbing the makeup on his face, leaving it heaped next to the paints and brushes on the counter. “Always helping me out.”

“Yes, well, someone’s got to keep your hopeless arse out of bother.” You leaned in, placing a kiss on his chest. “What does the rest of this group costume consist of?”

“Suits. Not sure whose choice that was, probably Dray’s one condition on joining in.” Pretty brown eyes rolled at his friend, even if his lips were raised in a wide smile. “I’ll get ready, and then we can go to your dorm and get you all ready before meeting the rest?”

“I’ll go start getting ready now, while you do. Save some time.” He only hummed, your heart skipping a single beat as the first deception of the night passed seamlessly through your lips. 

“Alright, I’ll pick you up in fifteen minutes.”

You only nodded, pecking his lips delicately one more time, before slipping from his arms, out of his dorm and into the corridors. Your feet were moving fast, like a sprint through the halls towards your own dorm. Fifteen minutes was barely enough time to grab the things you need and escape from the Slytherin dorms without your boyfriend seeing you. You dragged out the bag you’d already packed from under your bed, and the pre-written note you’d hidden in your bedside drawer. 

His name was written neatly across the front, and you flipped it open, double-checking the message inside. In perfect, neat cursive;

‘Find me before midnight xo’

Folding it back up and propping it on the bed where you knew he’d see it, you eyed it for a second. Putting down your bag and rooting through, you gave your lips a half-hearted swipe of red lipstick, blotting them for a second before pressing a kiss to the note over his name, a single clue to start the game, before returning it to its spot. 

With that, you were off, leaving your dorm unlocked and enchanted, for his entry and his entry alone.

The common room was packed with groups gathered, ready to leave for the Weasley twins’ party, making it easy for you to blend in and disappear. The halls were just as busy, decorated and overflowing with chatter, the castle ghosts crowding and gathering happily to add to the atmosphere. 

Everyone else seemed to be heading down and out, leaving you as one of the few people heading up, to the prefect’s bathroom on the fifth floor. It was empty as you arrived, the sound of your bag hitting the floor creating an echo to bounce off of the walls. 

Tugging on your costume only took minutes, stashing your clothes back in the bag and leaving it open as you fished through for your makeup kit. It was as you were leaning across the sink, one eye closed as you swept eyeliner into a sharp point in one corner that the door crashed open once again. Jess stumbled through it, arms full of whatever costume the Weasley boys had forced upon her, and you stood straight up, trying not to blink and smear the wet liner before it dried. 

“Pushing it late, huh? Party starts in fifteen minutes!”

“Don't remind me…” Jess shucked off her robes, dumping the cloak on top of your empty bag, and beginning to undo the buttons of her shirt as you turned back to the mirror once again. 

When you were satisfied with your makeup, two sharp wings on either side and red lips to match your dress, you gave a happy nod to your reflection. With a few minutes to spare and a bottle of nail polish waiting to be used, you hopped up onto the sink. Costume now donned, Jess was lacing up heeled boots that reached all the way to her thighs. 

“Are you trying to scare the masses, or seduce them?” With only a sly smirk of her own in return, Jess made her way to the mirror beside yours, plucking the red lipstick from your makeup bag. 

“I’m supposed to be a bloodthirsty sorceress,” Popping the cap, she applied a coat. “Know any men who wouldn't mind having their hearts ripped out?”

“A few. The boys will be in skull makeup tonight, so aim for them first.” Your legs swung as you chuckled at her statement, focused on the brush moving across your nails. You wondered just how many of the boys were ready, and what Mattheo was doing right now. Surely, he’d already be on the hunt. “Save the curly one for me, though.”

Jess only beamed in response. “You’ve sent Riddle out on that wild goose chase yours, then?” 

You shrugged, ever the picture of easiness as you blew on your wet nails to dry them. “He’s got until midnight to find me.”

Excited knots twisted at your stomach with the mere thought, the thrill of the cat-and-mouse chase. It would likely drive Mattheo insane, knowing you were toying with him as he searched. “What happens when the clock strikes twelve?” 

“Let's just say, that I’m fully prepared to live up to my house name, and let him slither in.”

Zipping your makeup bag up with the nail polish inside, you packed all of the clothes into your bag, stashing it behind one of the sinks. “At least one of us is having fun tonight.”

Oh, that was no doubt. You weren’t sure ‘fun’ was even a fair word to use, knowing that the way you were riling your boyfriend up was more like a first-class ticket to seeing Heaven. “Who says you can’t? You may owe Fred a favour, but that doesn’t mean you can’t cause a little trouble.”

Jess shared a devious smile, sliding a gold mask into place as you slipped your own red one on to match, “I like the way you think.”

Placing the final part of your costume onto your head, the small horns on the headband complete your ‘devil’ look, and you hopped down to join her.

With your arm linked through your friend’s, the two of you set off. At the pathway marked as the beginning of the no-doubt terrifying journey ahead, Jess split off, a wink in your direction as you blew a kiss in hers, wishing her luck on the night of haunting ahead, mind set on your own task. 

Mattheo had told you where the boys all planned to meet, leaving you plenty of time to slip into the throng of people and disappear into the masses. Your plan: to remain hidden in plain sight.

Weaving through the crowds, eyes scanning over every person there, it wasn’t long until you spotted your boyfriend. Leaning against the trunk of a tree, flanked by only Enzo and Draco so far, he was already searching for you amongst the hordes. You followed closely behind a group, slipping into their ranks seamlessly, as Mattheo’s focus moved across you, flickering over the group and dismissing them quickly as strangers. A spark of excitement shot along your spine. 

Just like that, you were walking straight past him. Your cover merely being that of standing among people you didn’t even know meant letting him look right through you like fog in the early morning. 

Slipping inside one of the hidden walkways, darkness encased you, hiding you from view as all the horrors and thrills Fred and George had managed to create took place. 

Actors in costumes, enchantments to create realistic scenes, and laughter poured from your lips as much as screams did, your heart was pounding as you cleared the tunnel minutes later.

Surrounding the clearing on all sides were various attractions. How they’d managed to pull all this together, you had no idea, but the twins never failed to impress you. Several hexed bonfires filled the clearing, a hazy setting washing over your skin from that very first sniff of woody smoke pulled into your lungs. 

A haunted hayride, pulled along no doubt by the thestrals that Luna seemed so fond of took off on your right, a speakeasy-style building to the left, a haunted house with screams filling the chill night air right before you. Bobbing for apples, a spooky corn maze with moving scarecrows, everything that would send chills down your spine. 

Mattheo and the boys would likely catch up any moment, more visitors pouring in around where you’d paused at the end of the tunnel to admire, so you spurred yourself into action. The night couldn't end just yet, you still had hours of fun ahead of you. 

Angling yourself towards the speakeasy first, you stepped through the door, the subtle smell of gin and perfumed musk washing over your senses as you stepped up to the twisted staircase, flickering lights disappearing into darkness before your very eyes. 

Down, down, down, you moved. Swallowed whole by the shadows, your shaky laughter would doubtless have clouded your breath with the sudden chill that took you over, so dark for a moment you couldn't even see your hand before your face. Then, just as your hand skimmed towards your wand for a Lumos spell, a curtain swept aside, a couple stumbling out between fits of tipsy giggles, guiding you with flashes of coloured lights and the beat of unconfined music. 

The moment you were inside, all silencing spells wore off, blinding lights flashed across the dance floor, with the music that was pounding through the room so deep the base travelled up your legs. The floor was packed, everybody dancing to their heart’s content, and those who weren’t were gathered around small tables for card games, or crowding the bar. 

It wasn’t long until you located a group of your friends, some with their dates, some solo, and you were quickly immersed under the cover of the group. The beat had your eyes slipping closed, rhythm flowing through you as your body swayed. A drink was pressed into your hand by a friend, the fruity taste coating your tongue and leaving your body in a numb haze. 

You had to say, you were impressed by the effort the twins had gone to. Despite the student-body having only found out about this party a few weeks ago, you knew for them to have pulled this off, they’d have to have been planning since Valentine’s Day. Songs passed by in a blur of dancing and more drinks, a shot came soon, so spicy your eyes watered and throat stung, only soothed by the lime you were handed to follow. 

Wiping a stray droplet of juice from under your lip as you pulled the slice away, you almost missed the flash of skull makeup and blond hair in your peripheral. Draco was on the dance floor, making his way across, a smirk on his lips as a hand with manicured nails reached out to clasp his tie, trying to tug him into a dance. 

You didn’t have to search for long to find the face you knew so well, the one you’d painted yourself only a couple of hours prior, also on the dance floor. Hands reached for him too, trying to pull him this way and that, but he wasn’t stopped. No, he was searching. Looking at every face with your hair colour, checking under masks and turning dancers around despite their protests, just to rule them out from the game. 

And he was heading right for you. 

Spinning away from him, you ducked across towards a friend, her arms looping around your body as you neared, none the wiser to the game you were playing, and the distraction she provided. Swaying your body with her own, you pushed your lips close to her ear, watching Mattheo over her shoulder. “I need another drink, you want one?”

She only shook her head, released you near the back of the group and let herself get swept back up, as you were hidden away behind the crowd, sneaking towards the bar. 

Padma and her sister were serving quickly, wands in hand as they floated several cups through the air all at once. Slices of fruit and cubes of ice drop, tinkling into plastic cups ready for them to fill.

Flagging down one of the twins, a shaky breath of pure excitement leaves you, as you turn your focus back to your boyfriend. He looks like he’d been having fun. A little dishevelled, the top buttons of his shirt undone and his tie loosened, smudges of dirt and glitter on his clothes from wherever he and his boys had been playing, scaring unsuspecting patrons and gathering screams. 

His hair was no longer the neat style he’d doubtless have gelled it into, the stands messy from running his fingers through it, and curls beginning to form in the heat of the bar. A single curl fell across his forehead, brushing through the paint, and your fingers itched to brush it out of his eyes, like always. 

He’d reached the group now, searching idly in the area you’d been occupying, not finding you where you’d once been, chasing only steps behind and having no idea. 

The visible frustration he wore gave you a cocky smile, a rush of pride filing you up, watching as he made to move on, to more fruitless endeavours.

Then, a hand shot out. 

A hand in a black lace glove, attached to a girl in a full-body leather jumpsuit, hugging every inch of her body, the little cat ears you knew well. A member of your former dance group, poking up into the air. Pulling him to a stop, he bowed his head, lips moving and a conversation you couldn't hear taking place, and his head snapped up in your direction. 

For a second, your breath caught, swearing he almost looked right at you as he scanned his gaze over the bar. Someone had told him you’d been there, that you’d headed for the bar, and he filled with renewed vigour, eyes twinkling with mischief even from this distance. 

Motioning to Draco— who now had the rest of the owner of that manicured hand wrapped around him— to head to the bar, he moved like a man whom wild horses wouldn't be able to stop. The crowd parted around him as he moved, leaving nobody in his wake, not until he was right up to the bar at the other end. He motioned for one of the twins to take his order. 

Padma finally arrives to take your drink request, your order only adding to the floating display over their heads, and the display is utterly mesmerising. Much like the floating candles in the Grand Hall, light shimmers and reflects through every drink and piece of glass, light bursting out across the room. 

Following one trail of light, you spot Jess entering the bar, followed quickly in tow by someone in matching skull makeup, this one with shaggy blonde hair, his eyes locked on her like she’s the only girl in the room. You quirk a brow, sealing that little piece of information away for later.

You’re so caught up with your people-watching that you almost forget the game afoot, that Mattheo is so close, until the rough grate of his voice only a few seats down breaks you from your reverie. Snapping your eyes to him, he’s leaning on one arm, back to you as his focus scans out across the crowd. Somewhere on the dance floor is Enzo, you’re sure, and Draco has his lips on the neck of his mystery girl, completely ignoring Mattheo’s summons to the bar. You know where Theo’s interests lay, and you’re not sure where Pansy and Blaise will have snuck off too, likely some dark corner where they won’t be seen.

Your boyfriend was the only one in the group not dancing tonight, something that had you smirking. Swiping up your drink and bringing the straw to your lips, you admired his jawline as he stretched his head, once again searching. That was until a girl in a tight black dress and black feathered angel wings made her way over to him, clearing her throat lightly to bring back his attention as he continued the hunt. 

“Hi, Mattheo. Over here all alone, why aren’t you out there—”

“I have a girlfriend.” His curt response was flat and bored, and you almost snorted some of your drink trying not to laugh. Her expression wavered, a pout forming on her lips as she tried again, undeterred, reaching out to take the end of his tie between two fingers. 

“I don’t see her.”

Smoothing his hand down his front to remove his tie from her hold, he scoffed, shaking his head; “Neither do I, that’s the damn problem.”

This time, you were too slow in holding back your laughter, the sound bursting from you against your control. You hoped the music would cover it, but Mattheo heard it, whipping his head around in your direction, as he began to analyse every person at your end of the bar. 

Taking your drink and quickly ducking behind a man dressed as the Phantom at the Opera, you ducked and dove between people, daring a look back at the bar to see Mattheo stood where you had once been, looking amongst the people, but thankfully, not in your current direction. 

Glancing around for some quick cover, you spotted Jess, making your way over to her and watching as the boy she was with parted with a lingering kiss to her cheek. She clocked your approach, a wide smile bursting free on her lips, and her hands reached for you, tugging you into a dance with her as soon as you were near enough. 

“I take it Riddle hasn’t found you yet?”

“No, but he’s close.” You have to shout over the music, tipping your head in the direction you last saw him. She glances over your shoulder toward the bar, where her dance partner seems to have found himself too, along with the others.

“Gettin’ colder, he and Draco are heading toward the exit.” Spinning you around smoothly, a smirk pulled on your lips. A determined-looking Mattheo began to chase a cold lead, the unsuspecting girl who did look rather like you from behind leading him off-course. 

Twisting back to face her, your brow hitched up as the mystery man began to make his return, two new drinks in hand. “Is that Theodore Nott you’re flirting with?”

“Maybe, maybe not.” It was her turn to smirk, shrugging and brushing her hair from her shoulders. “He doesn't know it’s me, though, so if he asks you, you have no idea who I am tonight.”

“My lips are sealed.”

With a final wink, you slipped away, knowing she’d only be alone for a second before your boyfriend’s best friend was all over her once again. Following in the direction Mattheo had just left, you reentered the dark halls. The glow of his and Draco’s wands ahead, that and their murmured chatter bouncing from the walls, was your pin-point to follow through the new maze of tunnels. 

Too busy looking ahead, he had no idea you were right behind him. 

Hands reached out, faces flashing before your eyes as actors and other fear-mongers stalked the dark tunnels, and if it wasn’t for your boyfriend’s light ahead, you’d have screamed and given yourself away a long time ago. When you reached the central clearing once again, it was even busier than it had been before, you emerged not long after the boys, from a hidden alcove between the cornfield maze and a stand selling hot cider. 

Mattheo and Draco were gone, disappearing faster into the masses than you could comprehend, likely to find more of their little group, and you grabbed a cider, digging a galleon out of your pocket and tossing it into the collection jar, before taking a stroll around the maze. It was in there that you found Pansy and Blaise, hidden away in a darkened corner, just as you suspected. 

Both had swollen lips and glossy eyes when you cleared your throat at them, grinning at the blush spreading across your friend’s pale cheeks, as Blaise only smirked. 

“Ah, well, look who it is.” He mused, covering Pansy as she attempted to adjust her costume once again, and your laughter wasn’t lost on her, only getting flipped off as she tried to pull the corset top back up over her bra. “By your absence of lover boy, I take it Mattheo hasn’t found you yet?”

“So, he’s told you about the little game I’ve laid out, has he?”

“Oh, absolutely. We have a little bet going. By all means, keep this up, you have me winning. I bet he wouldn't find you at all.” Your head tipped to the side, a little sip of your hot cider as you considered his words, before Pansy was snatching it from your hand, sniffling it, and taking a gulp. 

“You bet against him?”

“Of course, look at you. Over halfway through the night and he still hasn’t found you. Pansy, on the other hand…” He teased, and she smacked at his arm. You gasped.

“Pans, you bet against me? And to think, I was sharing my drink with you.” Snatching it back, she pouted, but shrugged.

“Hey, nothing against you. He just had better odds, he’s recruited everyone to help him find you!”

“And a marvellous job you’re all doing of that. Tell me, did you find me hiding behind Blaise’s tonsils?” Her cheeks went red again, along with a burst of deep laughter from the other culprit that had him clutching his stomach. She shushed him quickly, despite the silencing spells cast over the maze for an added air of creepiness. 

“Well, here you are, are you not?”

“Sure.” You rolled your eyes fondly, stepping away from the pair. “I’ll let you get back to your intense searching. Don’t tell Matty you saw me!”

And with that, you slipped back into the darkness, the bushes around you rustling and creaking as they changed with every step you took. It wasn’t until you’d successfully given up, growing bored as the chill of mist rose goosebumps on your skin that the hexed forestry finally freed you, a pathway clearing and opening up ahead of you to release you back to the party. 

Seeking the moon in the sky, you found it not long until midnight, Blaise had told no lie, your game coming closer and closer to the end, where you would be crowned the winner. Taking a seat before the fireplace, you settle in to watch the flames, and peer around to spot your hunter. 

There. It only took a second to find him but there he was, a little clearing across the way, leaning against some haybales with a blunt balanced between two fingers. Bringing it back to his lips, he took a drag, smoke filtering out into the cold air and obscuring his face, before passing the roll to Draco. 

When the smoke cleared, his eyes locked on your own. 

Just a second. A moment across the field, so far away, but he knew. Your breath hitched, his back straightened. Then he was moving, without even warning the rest of the group, he was taking long strides across the field, closing the distance between you both, and adrenaline surged through your system as you shot to your feet. 

Your closest building was the haunted house, his eyes narrowing, a silent warning when a smile curved on your lips, already knowing your next move. 

You bolted, a giggle breaking free as the true chase began, and he called your name, the sound lost amongst the chatter and amusement of everyone else gathered around. Slipping through the hoards of people, you stumbled through the front door, watching as Mattheo rounded the porch, trying to snake his way through to catch up. 

A kaleidoscope of colours, screams and shouts and music, different rooms with every theme as you were ushered through in a rush, the whole attraction feeling like a fever dream as you searched for the exit. The game was reaching its peak, midnight neared, the moon called it into the sky, and being so close to the last moments, you were determined to win. 

Stumbling out into the cold night air once again, you headed for the tree-line, secluded enough that you could lean on the thick trunk of an old oak. You watched the entrance to the haunted house, a red-painted lip caught between your teeth, eager for him to emerge in your wake.

You waited. 

Waited.

Seconds ticking by, and the thunderous race of your heart in the moment finally began to slow. Gasping breaths became softer pants, calling to you the silence of the world around you when blood was no longer pumping in your ears. 

A twig snapped behind you, and before you could turn to acknowledge the sound, a hand was sealing over your mouth, an arm banded around your waist, dragging you back into the darkness. 

Spun around in their arms, your panic lasted barely a second, before soft lips were pressing firmly to your own, the familiar smell of cigarette smoke and woodsy cologne filling your senses. Your arms came up, gripping him just as tightly as he walked you backwards, pressing you to a tree as he left a dozen kisses on your lips, longing and loving after hours apart.

“You’re a little minx, do you know that?”

“Actually, I’m a little devil.” You snickered, hands on his chest to push him back enough to look down at your outfit, motioning to the horns still on your head. “See?”

“I see it, baby. I have to say, I love this costume.” His hand fell to your thigh, callouses scraping across soft skin until he found the short hem, tugging and twisting the flowing skirt around his fingers. “I’ve been searching every girl for red lipstick all night, thanks to your little clue. Should have known you’d be decked out in all red, too. Standing out, right there, the whole time.”

His mouth descended upon your own once again, a happy sound rumbling in the back of his throat as you kissed back just as eagerly, one hand sliding up into his hair. His hand squeezed at your thigh, slipping back down as far as your knee, only to hike your leg up around his hip, shocking you into a gasp.

“I’ve been running around all night trying to find you, and you were right under my nose the whole time, weren’t you?”

His kisses descended to your neck, a shaky sound slipping free as his teeth teased a spot on your jaw that made you tremble, gripping tighter to his suit for stability. Your breath was shaky as you spoke, desperate to reclaim some power, despite the way he was undoing you already, “What, you didn’t like my little game?”

“Oh, I loved your little game, baby. But, I think I just won. It’s a few minutes to midnight.” Licking a stripe across the underside of your jaw, you mewled, head tipping back against the tree, hips bucking up to meet his own, and he grunted. “What’s my prize?”

His gaze came back up, dark and challenging and sultry as he stared down at you, smirking. Licking across one red lip, his attention focused there, his own lips parting, getting closer, needy for another taste. “The second part of the costume, of course.”

Gripping his wrist and sliding it up and under your skirt, his fingertips smoothed over the lace of your panties. He didn’t hold back his groan, gripping your ass tightly in his hand and tugging you forward to rub against him once again. “Red, I assume?”

“Smart boy.”

“My dorm?” He whispered, forehead falling to your own, a needy sound your only form of reply as your hips rolled together, friction dragging and sparking heat across your body. 

“What, you want to leave the party already?”

Your teasing words weren’t appreciated if the squeeze to your rear was any indication. “Game is over, don’t play with me anymore, my love. I need you, now.”

“Then let's go.”

The two of you stumbled along, barely keeping your hand to yourself as you hurried back through the woods, avoiding the crowds and teasing whistles of your friends by taking a more covert route instead. You certainly weren’t the only ones with the same thoughts, various couples were dotted through the woods, wandering hands and desperate kisses exchanged behind the trees and throughout the branches. 

His hand was tight around yours, tugging you along with his pace, but when he stopped short, you almost crashed straight into his back. Following his line of sight, you huffed, pushing him with a hand on his back to get his feet moving again. 

“Is that Theo over there, zipping his pants back up? Who’s he out here with?”

“You want gossip, or you want sex, Matt?” His body jolted at the insinuation, feet stumbling over one another as he picked the pace again. Guiding the two of you through one of the tunnels he had likely discovered during his night of scaring, the two of you paced back through the speakeasy. 

Up the haunted stairs. 

Through the woods. 

Along the halls.

Past the common room.

And then, he was backing you up against his dorm door, fingers fumbling with the lock, pressing frenzied kisses to your lips as he slid the mask off of your face and threw it to the floor. 

"You taste like cinnamon and wine." Mattheo moaned, practically sucking the taste of mulled cider from your tongue as you ground against his clothes cock. 

"You taste like cigarettes and whiskey." Your words are bitten off as he nips on your lower lip, a whine spilling from you as his hand snakes back up your skirt, toying with the lace of your panties again. Hooking his fingers into the waistband, he snapped them against your hip. The sting of the elastic on your flesh made you gasp, and he only chuckled into your mouth in response. 

“Godric knows, you’ve been driving me crazy tonight, baby, thinking about these red lips, lookin’ for them everywhere. Now I want to see what that red looks like around the base of my cock.”

Your fingers trailed across the front of his body, shaky fingers undoing the buttons of his shirt, tugging it more and more until it hung open, only his tie in the way as you peppered his chest with open-mouthed kisses. A moan spilled from his throat, his head tipping back, and he yanked at the tie, throwing it to the floor, quickly joined by his shirt and blazer until his torso was bare and exposed to your ministrations. 

Your hands gripped his hips, spinning his body with your own until his back was to the wood instead. Mattheo only smirked, eyes half-lidded as he watched you, your red lipstick already smeared across his mouth, printed on his chest, his own makeup smudged to match. 

One heavy hand found your shoulder, pressing you down, until you were on your knees before him, tugging at his belt as he lifted his hips from the door. His arrogance only grew, lifting one hand to comb through your tangled hair as you struggled with his trousers, pulling at them until they were halfway down his thighs. His cock sprung free, a hiss on his lips as the cold air of the dorm met his flushed skin. 

Gathering your hair up and out of your face, he gripped it in a bunch behind your head, not pushing or pulling, just waiting as you peered up at him, licking over one kiss-bitten lip. His other hand fell to your cheek, smudging streaks of black and white facepaint as he went, tracing his thumb across your lower lip. 

“You’re so beautiful, my love,”

Your smile made his thumb fall to your chin, a single squeeze, before he was retracting his hand, and manoeuvring your head towards his cock. Slipping the tip past your lips, a shudder passed over his body, his thighs clenching under your hands as your nails dug into his flesh, and his head ‘thumped’ on the wood of the door as it fell back. 

“Salazar fuckin’ save me,” He panted, slipping further and further, his grip in your hair tightening with every inch, until he was tapping the back of your throat, your gag buzzing along his flesh in a way that made his hips buck. “Love your pretty little mouth. Make it so good for me, baby.”

Smiling as best you could with every inch of his cock slipping into your mouth, his hand tightening in your hair, pulling back just enough to let you take a breath before his hips were bucking again. This time, as he sank back into your mouth, your lips tightened around him, sucking suddenly, and his broken moan bounced off the walls of his dorm. 

Again, and again, he was pushing you further, until you were comfortably taking him deep into your throat, tears lining your eyes, threatening to spill over your cheeks in a way you knew he loved to see. “Fuck, you’re so good down for me,”

Tracing your tongue around the head of his cock, you took control, sinking down against him and dragging your tongue along his cock, feeling the throb of that prominent vein. You moaned against him, and his body tensed at the feeling, making you pull back, just enough to have him gasping as the pleasure was ripped away. 

You kissed at his hip, nipping his hip bones where they pressed to his skin, and a babbling mess of your name was all you got as he panted, flushed skin rising and falling. 

Your hand took over, pumping his spit-slick shaft slowly, dragging up until his hips were following your hand with a pathetic groan. He finally had enough, enough of your teasing as you caught your breath, his head tipping back forward against his shoulders and blissed-out eyes narrowing on you. 

“Tongue out for me, pretty girl.”

Your stomach flipped at his words, at the gravel in his tone, the way he yanked your hair back to control you as you opened your mouth, tongue falling out as he’d asked. 

His cocky smile grew as you grinned back at him. Guiding his cock back to your mouth, he let the weight of it sit on your tongue, rubbing softly, pre-cum leaking and the taste of him made your thighs clench together. 

He didn’t miss the action, not at all, his hips thrusting lazily in and out of your mouth as he gave you a nod. Sealing your lips back around him, you moved enthusiastically once again, bobbing up and down along his cock, wringing every bit of pleasure from him that you possibly could. 

“So fucking good, baby, just like that. You like sucking my cock, huh? Always so eager for my cum in your mouth.” Pulling back, his cock fell free of your lips, spit tainted with red lipstick and pre-cum connected his tip to your lips, and he gathered it on his fingers. That same hand cupped your cheek, smearing it across your skin, “Not today though. Today, all my cum is going in that pretty pussy of yours.”

Kissing across his abs as you rose to your feet, his mouth was slamming onto your own. Tongue plunging in, your moan was lost to his lips as he worked at your clothes too, tugging at your dress, horned headband falling to the floor as he yanked the garment over your head. 

Kicking off his trousers and stripping himself the rest of the way, he panted, eyes wide, admiring the lace set you’d donned for his eyes only tonight. “You’ve been wearing this all night, and you let me chase you ‘round for hours?”

His hands skimmed over your body, almost reverent with the lightness of his touch, tracing the corset top that hugged your chest, pushing your tits up to the perfect fullness. The panties with their tiny straps, sitting perfectly on your hips, across your cheeks to make your arse look round and shapely, the strings and ribbons that had his mouth watering as he stared in awe. “You like it?”

He only growled, a flash of cold travelling across his eyes as you fuelled the carnal desire boiling within him. He was moving in a flash, sitting on the edge of the bed and bending you sideways across his lap, his wet cock prodding your stomach as you gasped at his manhandling. His hand smoothed over your flesh, across the seam of your panties, chuckling at the wetness he found on the material, and swirling at your clit. “How many times, huh? How many times did I almost get to you, but you escaped me?”

“Th-Three.” Your mind was foggy, hazy as pleasure began to take over. Your eyes fluttered shut as you hung limply across his thighs, core clenching around nothing. He hadn't even touched you properly yet, and you were already falling apart for him. Your gut was tightening, hips rocking and pressing back onto his fingers as you neared that peak, the excitement and electricity of the night had had you worked up for hours now, all moving toward this. 

“Three times. Three times you ruined my victory, so I think three times, I’ll ruin yours.”

His words had barely even registered in your mind when his touch left you, a cry of protest being cut shut by a sharp slap across your ass, your body jerking forward at the force, and pleasure zipped through you, despite your denied orgasm. “Damn it, Matty…”

“That’s what you get, baby.”

You pushed yourself up, shaky hands, putting on your best pout as you turned to face him. He only mimicked the expression, mocking you. Tugging you in instead, he licked his way into your mouth, filthy, panting kisses taking over as he made sure to ruin whatever was left of your makeup. You adjusted yourself across his body, settling down to sit against one thigh, nipping on his bottom lip and rocking your hips. 

Slow, so slow, you moved over him, feeling the muscle of his thigh tense up underneath you, his hands roaming your body, distracted and oblivious of the pleasure you were taking for yourself as that fiery pleasure rekindled once again. He reached for the back of the corset, tugging at the hoops, undoing them roughly until it was falling to the floor and he was catching one nipple between his lips. 

“Oh, fuck, Mattheo…” You whispered, arching closer to him, pushing your chest further into his face as he teased his teeth across the taut bud. A sob left your lips, fingers carding through his hair, tugging at the roots to convey words that were melting to nothing on the top of your tongue.

His arm caught around your waist, tugging you closer into his body, making it harder for you to move as you tried to squirm in his lap. His breathy laugh spread over the skin of your chest as he littered it with hickies, switching to the other side and leaving one wet, perky nipple cool in the air of the room.

“Matt, please!”

“Please, what? What do you want, my love?” When he was satisfied with the havoc he was wreaking on your body, his attention moved to your neck. Your arms around his shoulders, head tossed back, panting and whining as you ground against his thigh. “You wanna’ come, baby?”

“Y-Yeah.” The feeling was burning through your veins, taking you over, your eyes rolling back as your pussy throbbed. 

He pulled you in, a finger and thumb on your chin to guide your face back to his own, lips brushing. “Too bad.”

He gripped you once again, both arms holding you steady, unable to chase any kind of pleasure, as he kissed your neck, his smirk on your skin showing he knew just what he was doing. 

“Thought you’d get away with that, didn’t you? I’m not even going to count that one.” Tugging your panties to the side, two fingers sank into you, and your back arched into his body as he touched you at last. “You can’t win at my game. My little loser, huh? What a shame.”

You were shaking atop him, the feeling of his fingers, the curl and the pump he knew so well. Mattheo could read your body like a map, he knew just what you needed, just how to touch you, and he was using that to his advantage. Two fingers became three, stretching you out deliciously and yet it still wasn’t enough. You collapsed against his body, desperate to come, moaning like a whore and forever on the edge as he toyed with you. 

Your forehead was pressed to his, crying his name, begging against his mouth as he licked at your lip, tipping his head up to catch you for a kiss. When he pulled away this time, you could feel the tears in your eyes, nails digging into his skin, pleading with sounds that no longer resembled words. 

You could feel his frustration; every time he’d almost found you, every dead-end, every narrow escape.

A sick, twisted part of you was loving every second of this delicious torture, and you found yourself face down in the sheets, panties around your thighs and his cock slamming into you, so hard that a scream ripped through you. 

“Shh, you can take it, my little demon. I know you can.”

“I can, Matty. I can take it. I can take more.” You wanted it, you wanted it bad, spurring him on. Your hands scratched in the covers, legs spreading even further, body rocking with every deep thrust he gave you. His kisses travelled over your spine as your tears smeared mascara and eyeliner into the sheets. His body smothered you, one hand coming around to clasp your own, love shining through in his actions even as he ruined you, took you apart until your mind was shattered. 

You’d be wrecked in the morning, you’d surely be unable to walk, sore legs and trembling limbs, you’d have to spend half the morning just recovering from the way he was fucking you now. Brutal, fast, slamming in and out and making you sure your eyes would never come back from how far they were rolled into your head. 

Nerves were lighting up, electricity shooting along every cell of your body as his slick skin slid against yours, one hand in your hair, tugging your head back as his lips brushed your ears. 

“Wish you could see yourself, pretty girl. Wish you could see what I see. Shaking, dripping, my cock sliding in and out of this pussy like you were made for me.” He slowed his pace, for just a second, and you keened back into him, chasing the pleasure that was already building once again, even if you knew it would be fruitless. 

You may have lost the ability for sentient thought, but his count was ringing in your head, only two of three failed orgasms served. Your body tensed with a shudder, the anticipation lingering in the air like a sword over your head.

“You really do belong in the pits of hell, don’t you? Look what you do to me.” His teeth grazed over your shoulder, biting down on your skin enough to make you cry out his name, bucking against his touch as he soothed the bite with gentle licks. “There’s nothin’ angelic about you, you’re nothin’ but a sinner.”

His name spilled from your lips, again and again, like you were begging for redemption. 

“You’re on your knees, but you’re praying to me.”

His hand snaked around your body, finding your swollen clit and brushing his fingertips across it, pitching the bud harshly between his fingers. “Matt—”

“You want to come?”

“Yes!” 

“What a shame.” He slipped himself out of your cunt, spewed curses in anger leaving your wobbling lips, more tears spilling over as he took away the last part of your dignity. 

Twisting your entangled bodies, he guided you until your back met the bed sheets, pushing you up as he crawled over you. Hooking his fingers into the edges of those panties and pulling them away, he spread himself over you. 

He barely gave you time to recover, the stimulation all too much, as he lifted your legs to hook them over his shoulders plunge his cock back into the sopping heat of your cunt. 

This may have been his game, but when his forehead came to rest on your own, hands frantically bunching in the sheets beside your body, you knew the last round had begun. The ball was in your court, his own need displayed clearly on his face as he rutted into you desperately. His rhythm was lost, sloppy and out of control, and you squeezed yourself around his cock. 

You pressed sweet kisses to his lips, tempting him over the edge with a drag of your teeth across his lip, a lap of your tongue, and he was done for.

Finally, your peak crashed over you. Waves and waves, blinding pleasure that left you with silent, open-mouthed screams. Twitching underneath him, your fingers tore down his back, your legs snapped against his hips, holding him to your body as white-hot bliss drowned you. 

He only needed a few more thrusts, your back arching and his name a chant, enough profanities to scar anybody passing by as the lewd sounds of your movements covered your moans. He came with a groan, thrusting through until the sound tapered off into a whimper, his own unsteady body collapsed down on top of you. Dragging breaths into his lungs to recover as his sweaty body covered you, you hooked your arms around him, hugging him close, unwilling for him to move even a fraction.

You felt numb, the aftershocks of pleasure racing through your body, still twitching and shaking despite his weight on top of you. Freeing one hand, he smoothed it up your body, dragging from your thigh to your ribs, stroking softly in soothing motions, as his lips gave delicate pecks, shushing every lingering whimper that escaped. 

You reciprocated the action, raising one hand to land in his hair, fingers brushing through sweaty curls, as his cheek found your shoulder. 

“That… was some of the best sex we’ve ever had.” Your words were still breathless, and he laughed lightly, nodding against you where he lay. 

His skin was littered with lipstick, smudges of his facepaint on every part of your body, painted with love and lust everywhere you’d touched one another. The night was still heavy on your skin, the festivities outside still raging even if your night had come to an end. 

Maybe minutes had passed, maybe hours, but eventually, Mattheo dragged himself up, pulling himself free from your body, and smirking down at every mark he’d left on your skin. With unbalanced steps, he wandered away to the bathroom of his dorm, the squeak of the taps and the splash of water in the basin signalling the running of a bath. 

He offered you a hand as he returned, pulling you to your feet, the two of you wobbling your way through to the bathroom and taking stock of your mess as the water ran. Elixirs and salts, the fresh smell of jasmine and honey filled the air, and then you were sinking in, leaning back against Mattheo’s body as the two of you revelled in the hot water. 

His hand looped around your body, fingers lacing with yours and resting on your stomach, as his chin hooked over your shoulder. For a while, the two of you remained just like that, chasing the cold of the night from your bones and merely enjoying one another’s company.

“Tell me, was that your little friend— the one who was ripping out hearts for the Weasel-twins— that I saw running from Nott in the woods, this evening?”

“Oh, Matty,” You chuckled, turning to press a kiss to the underside of his jaw. “You have no idea the games she’s been playing tonight.”

He only grinned, head resting on the edge of the tub. “I fear those two together, they’ll rip each other’s hearts out.”

“Maybe so,” You mused, his fingers dragging along your ribs, and you shuddered happily. “Or maybe, they just found their perfect match together.”

“Just like I found you.” He whispered, lips brushing along your cheekbone, and you scoffed. 

“You’re so cheesy.”

“It was your game!”

Your hum echoed off of the walls. “Don’t tell Theo. I want to see how it plays out.”

“What, and ruin the surprise? I would never.” He smirked, “Besides, Theo didn’t help me find you, let him search for a while.”

Holding onto his forearm banded around your waist, your fingers traced up and down, before his hand caught yours, holding tight and weaving fingers your together. 

“I love you, but don’t you ever run from me again. There is not a place on this earth you could hide that I wouldn't find you. I’d search forever.”

“You know,” You whispered, turning in his arms to sit across his lap, and he made a happy sound, face tipping up to brush his lips on your own. “That sounds vaguely threatening. You’re a little bit fucked up.”

“That’s because it is a threat, and a promise. Besides, you’re a little bit fucked up too, because I know you love it.”

You couldn't deny it, only able to snicker in response instead, and press a firm kiss to his lips, which he was happy to return. “I love you too, Matty. Now, let’s try and scrub off all this makeup, hm?”

[jyoongim]

IM OBSESSED WITH ALASTOR X VOX!SISTER READER! (also hi its pixie again lmao)

ok so i was thinking that since vox!sister reader is a “pampered princess” because vox has the power and money to give her anything, alastor does the same! so after a day of hanging out with alastor and shopping and stuff, vox!sister reader goes back to the vees tower wearing red (alastors color, while her clothes r mostly blue to match with vox) vox immediately gets reminded of alastor seeing her clothes and he gets rlly angry and jealous and stuff, and ofc since alastor is a cocky little shit, he makes a broadcast for vox to hear to tell him how much of a good time he and his sister had to piss him off even more! :3

I enjoy writing Vox!sister with Alastor. It brings me joy knowing Vox is just gnawing at his wires knowing Alastor and his baby sister are a couple in very sense of the word hehehe~

————————————————————————————————-

You loved when Alastor took you shopping. Through you could and did have anything you wanted thanks to your brother, it was nice that your lover still chose to spoil you just as much. Today you were out buying a whole new wardrobe and decided that you were in need of a new color scheme. You always wore blue. It was your signature as Vox’s sister and a color you declared only you could wear. But as of late, you strayed from the comforting color to a more fiery palette. 

“I’m home!” You shouted even though you knew your brother already knew you were home. You had your assistant bring all your bags in and you heard the familiar zap of Vox entering the common area. “Finally! I thought I was gonna have to-what the fuck are you wearing?” Vox growled. You smiled and spun around “isn’t it the cutest!? Never thought of myself as a red girl but this color is gorgeous!”

Vox screen glitched. You were wearing red and black. Your usual blue completely gone and replaced by the radio demon’s colors.

”You spent money to look like that fossil? Sis we just finished your closet like last week”

You pouted and shrugged “A few different pieces dont hurt, besides I think its cute to match with my boyfriend”

That’s right how could he forget that Alastor was dating his baby sister.

You skipped to your room with your bags and began to reorganize your closet. Again.

Vox growled as he rubbed his screen.

His antennas buzzed at the change of frequency and his mood became even more sour as Alastor voice filtered through.

”Salutations wayward sinners! I just had a wonderful time with my girlfriend. You lot might know her as the Voxtech pampered princess. Yes yes i know what you’re all thinking…” 

Vox eye twitched.

”me and the little lady had quite a time shopping today. That darling is a looker I tell you, she can make anything look good. My those hips and legs really know how to make a man sweat” Alastor laughed.

”Anyway you might notice the Vees tower slowly changing. I think red is a lovely color and so do my darling.Maybe be on the lookout for a new design change folks. After all blue is such a dull color hehehe”

Vox was fuming.

”I am so going to kill him”

[kedsandtubesocks]

your heart, a sonnet

Author!Joel Miller x F!Reader

summary: you discover there’s more to your boyfriend than you realize

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY MDNI, no outbreak/modern AU & Joel has both his daughters, surprise hidden identity reveal, grumpy but soft!Joel who has a secret love language of writing and love letters, mentions of unspecified age gap (reader’s age is not mentioned but Joel is older & in his 50’s), light discussion of reader and Joel’s insecurities, reader is addressed as darlin/honey/baby, a few spicy moments where Joel gets handsy

word count: 5.3k

a/n: I know, I know… this doesn’t seem like the typical Joel fic but i blame Pedro’s look at the Hollywood star walk of fame ceremony because it immediately made me think ‘oh that’s Joel’ and now here we are lol I couldn’t have done this without my forever babe @the-wild-wolves-around-you and i can’t thank her enough along with @ahauntedcowboy for always letting me scream about all my wild ideas, and now to you, if you’re reading this too I also can’t thank you enough ♡

You first met Joel at a bookstore.

The weekend after your birthday you went in to treat yourself and wandered into the records section of the store. As you flipped through the selections, the sudden sight of a Fleetwood Mac album had you inhaling sharply in surprise.

“S’good one.” That’s when the sudden smooth drawl of a southern accent floated out to you.

A few steps beside you stood an absolutely gorgeous man. The evergreen plaid button up shirt he wore flattered him as if it was made to be only worn by him. Rugged and distinguished, he seemed like a romance hero plucked straight out from one of the books among the shelves. You even blinked a few times wondering if he was real.

“If you don’t take it, might have to fight ya for it.” Even with his gruff low voice, an underlying teasing nature radiated friendly and light.

Now, many months later, a piece of you believes you might have fallen for him right then and there.

Joel is a rare beautiful soul of a man. He’s strong and a bit rough around the edges. He used to work as a contractor, even managed to build a very reputable business with his brother. His hard work remains effortlessly etched into his hands that now type editing books, his current job. He’s kind, so deeply loyal and loves fiercely.

With a yawn, you slip out of bed to pull on his cozy Texas longhorn shirt.

Heading downstairs, you walk among the clouds.

Instead of working at his office desk, Joel sits at the dining table typing away. Just seeing him wear his reading glasses sends a delicious desire trickling through you like a soft rain.

His dark earth eyes flicker up over the edge of his laptop and his gaze softens.

“Was wonderin’ when you were gonna wake up.” His wonderfully smooth as molasses voice makes you want to get caught up in its sticky sweetness.

“It’s not even that late. You’re one who woke up wanting to get work done on a Saturday.” You scoff playfully yet press your lips to his, a soft good morning greeting.

“Besides…who’s the reason I slept in so soundly, hm?” You smile against Joel’s lips that now twitch with a smirk.

His large warm hand slowly creeps up against your bare leg and rubs soft against your skin. After a few sleepy kisses, Joel’s tongue smoothly slips into your mouth trying to now consume you with a syrupy heat.

Joel pulls you down onto his lap. Your hands run up his chest to his cherub curly gray hair. His lips leave yours to start nipping at your jaw.

“What happened to working, cowboy?” You sigh softly.

“Come keep me company, darlin’.” He breathes out and any hope of maybe making breakfast is happily forgotten.

The rest of the morning unfolds at a nebulous pace you bask in.

When a late brunch is finished and you start cleaning up the kitchen, Joel’s warm solid hands map out your hips with other plans in mind. He slides behind you, a towering comfort that you lean back against.

“You’re extra handsy today Mr. Miller.” You tease.

“I can stop?” Joel offers while his scruffy beard scrapes a path against your skin. Against you, his broad shoulders, his wonderfully built frame, wraps you in his protective cover.

You hum a content no and move your hands over his now.

“Just wanna enjoy being with ya before I get busy.” Joel mutters while his hand slides down your cozy lounge shorts.

You had forgotten about his upcoming work plans.

You already want to mourn the impending weekend without him, but that can wait for another day. Especially when his thick fingers delicately, so sinfully, run up and down your underwear playfully touching you.

But then that weekend arrives and it brings a hollowness.

Lounging on the couch back at the apartment you share with your best friend, you force yourself not to text Joel again. He’s busy and you know this. So you vow to hold all your yearning and longing chained inside like a Jane Austen heroine.

“Are you done sulking?” Your best friend teases from the kitchen and you glare at her from the couch.

“I get it, being awake from your hunky handsome older boyfriend is hard. What will you ever do?” She snickers playfully. You’re tempted to throw the nearby couch pillows at her.

“What did you say his job was?” She asks.

“He used to be a contractor, but now he’s a book editor.” You answer.

“A hardworking hot Texas cowboy who reads and is a good man? Yeah, keep him locked up.” Your best snorts and you understand exactly what she means.

Fanged temptation claws at you more to text him again. Joel promised he would call you tonight and you don’t doubt him. But you didn’t realize how badly you’d missed him.

“Alright,” your best friend declares. “No more moping! I’m dragging you out with me to that book signing I’ve been talking about.”

She’s been obsessed with this apocalyptic novel series for so long. You happily tag along and even perk up when you see how excited she gets.

“And the author is finally doing a book tour! He’s kept his identity hidden this entire time so I wanna get a chance to maybe just even see him!” Your best friend gushes the entire time she drives you both to the bookstore the signing would be held.

Just so happens it’s the same bookstore where you first met Joel. A deep surge of affection swallows you whole and you float on blissful lovesick nostalgia.

Then the impressive line already waiting outside the front doors stuns you.

“I told you! It’s a big deal! Plus the series is so good.” Your best friend exclaims. She has been trying to get you into the series for a while.

The core of it focuses on two young girls who manage to survive an apocalyptic fungal zombie outbreak. The series follows the girls growing up, the journey to live with each other, and how it slowly bonds them as sisters.

“I heard they’re trying to make a Netflix series on it.” Your friend adds hopeful.

You can’t help but snag your best friend’s book copy she also hopes will get signed. Flipping through the front pages you land to the dedication page.

“To my baby girls, this will always be for you two.”

The author must have based the series on their daughters. That’s adorable.

Now curious, you flip to the first chapter.

“After seeing the end of the world, after witnessing the carnage of life consume itself, Ellie thinks she’s seen it all.”

Your best friend's sudden excited laugh pulls you out of the book. She’s talking with the other fans in line and you decide to join in.

Everyone discusses how worth the wait will be and how most of them even purchased the newest released book to make sure they reserved a slot for the signing.

“So why’s the author finally doing a face reveal?” You ask quietly not wanting to seem too out of place.

“So apparently,” your best friend begins in her hush about to spill the good gossip voice. “Some random ass moron on Twitter came out and said they were the true author. It became a whole messy issue of who it really was.”

Your best friend goes into more detail about how even a couple of online sites had articles on it.

“That’s awful.” You sympathize with the author. It must’ve been a headache trying to enjoy the peace of anonymity only for it becoming something used against them. You can only imagine how heartbreaking it was to see others steal and take credit for your work.

Like a surprise strike of lightning, an electric excitement suddenly breaks through the air.

Glancing up, you watch the line rapidly move towards the front doors. Time to go in.

Unfortunately, the main seating for the reading and q&a fills up fast. The bookstore though manages to wrangle the remainder of the crowd that can fit on the first floor towards a section where they can watch. It’s more than enough for your best friend who’s about to burst with anticipation. The buoyant commotion in the room even pulls you into its current and you get excited to see the new surprise author.

Soon a chic handsome older looking man, the moderator of the event, scurries to the front of the gathered group.

Warmly he begins the introduction to the writer.

First, writing sweet children’s books, stories for his daughters, those works became the author’s first publications. After that he navigated apocalyptic writing and his hit series has earned critical acclaim.

“Simply known as the anonymous writer J Miller. I’ve had the greatest pleasure to know this man as both his friend and now agent and I’m beyond proud to introduce him to you. Everyone please help me in welcoming J Miller!”

The thunderous applause and screams of excitement galvanize the entire room.

Then Joel walks out from the side.

Your heart instantly leaves your body.

For a moment you think your lovesick yearning heart has you slightly projecting Joel in any man you might see.

But the minute you focus, truly watch him slide into the chair, you see him.

Soft gray grown out curls, a strong beautiful nose, the patchy beard with the spots you love to kiss, and his reading glasses - the ones he’s so self conscious about because of how they make him look “so good damn old,” yet you love how they distinguish and elevate his appearance. You even remember the first time Joel wore them while he read waiting for you.

Truth makes its way into your heart.

It’s Joel.

The famous mystery author is your Joel.

“Thanks Frank.” And when he takes the mic, thanking his agent, his slick southern sunset voice melts the crowd.

“So, uh he’s gorgeous?!” Someone behind you squeals.

“Who would’ve thought he’d be this hot?!” Someone adds.

The whispers and mummers swarm like wasps buzzing all around you and you want to swat at them.

You can’t wrap your mind around this or the amount of emotions rushing through you. You feel separated from your body, floating detached from the scene and trying to gather yourself back.

Why didn’t he tell you?

Did he not trust you?

Joel suddenly laughs at something Frank says, that gruff wonderful laugh you hear after you show him a ridiculous video or his daughters tease him. It snaps you back into awareness.

“He’s about to read a section!” Your friend giddily whispers under her breath

Now you fully focus on this man, this almost stranger.

He’s so handsome it isn’t fair. He looks like a distinguished professor and your throat tightens seeing how broad his shoulders look in the dark casual suit jacket he wears.

“One of my favorite parts.” He admits quietly. “It’s when Ellie and Sarah realize they can make it outta Pittsburgh together.”

His daughters. He named his characters after them.

Joel clears his throat and begins.

He reads the passage with a magnetic cadence. The words slip from him like the smooth drink of whiskey that lingers on your tongue. When he finishes, an ache twists in your chest.

The applause he gets is shatteringly loud. The smallest bit of pride does float through you. But confusion drowns it out.

The floor now opens to quick questions. Some are about the book itself and the certain decisions made writing wise. Others are obviously about why he stayed hidden for so long.

That one perks you up quickly.

In such typical Joel fashion, he shrugs.

“Just couldn’t figure out Twitter, s’all.”

Everyone laughs at his playful reply and you do as well, but it sounds hollow and watery.

Soon enough the last question arrives.

“Do you ever see yourself writing for any other genres? I mean, we’ve seen horror and some moments of romance in the series. So I’m just curious if you’d write anything else?!” The lady asks brightly and now you simply settle your thoughts aside to listen.

Joel chuckes, a bit breathless and his gaze drops. This entire time he’s teetered between a sly southern charm that’s hypnotized you, to being guarded almost a bit nervous.

But now a boyishly hesitant grin falls over him and it’s so familiar.

”Uh, guess romance would be the next I’d maybe try.” He answers low, bashful.

The crowd erupts into fangirl like shrieks.

“Right?! I keep saying he doesn’t know the potential he has if he became a romance writer!” Frank, who has such a bright and lovely personality, adds.

Too many emotions clash in you.

You wonder if he wants to explore romance writing because of you?

Or a much harsher voice creeps out from the back of your mind whispering maybe you’re just being used for source material.

You quickly stomp those thoughts away.

The rest of the event shifts to the signing and you walk in a sort of guided daze.

“You okay?” Your best friend asks gently, noticing your slight mood change.

You don’t have the heart to tell her the truth yet. This was something she had been looking forward to and you didn’t want to ruin her excitement or experience. So you wearily just smile and tell her your head simply started hurting.

She sympathetically nods.

“Thankfully we won’t be waiting too long.” She adds and explains how the signing would be called by groups.

“We might not have gotten seats, but we did manage to sneak into group A for the signing.” She grins proud and it lifts your spirits.

The line curls against the sides of the bookshelves blocking your view of Joel. It becomes both a blessing and a curse.

Maybe you should wait in the car for his and your sake?

However, something inside you slightly bitter, raw and wanting answers, decides to stay. Besides you, your dear friend tries to keep herself calm but you can sense her bubbling nervous energy.

“I’d be calmer if he wasn’t so damn attractive.” She hisses and a jealous flare gently rises in you.

“Just think,” you reassure her. “He’s probably just as nervous as you.”

The relieved comforted grin she gives you makes staying worth it. But then all of that flies out the window the closer and closer you get to Joel.

Petrified dread claws its way in when you realize your best friend is next in line.

“He looks kinda familiar now that we’re closer.” The casual comment your friend says makes your heart sink.

“Maybe.” You mutter.

The times Joel has been to your place your roommate, your best friend, has been either at work or sleeping. You can only think of the first instant you introduce Joel to her when he picked you up on a date.

Your eyes flicker straight to Joel.

His hair seems so perfectly curled and his dark jacket highlights his wonderful grays.

Thankfully, any discussion of who he might look like gets squashed because your best friend gets called next in line. She turns to you squeaking excitedly and you beam back bright.

Joel lifts his eyes up, like a true southern gentleman wanting to give someone his full attention.

You wait on the side and watch the interaction unfold. Joel chuckles at something your best friend says and you’re glad she’s enjoying herself.

The book signing is done so fast. In a blink, it’s finished. With her newly signed book, your friend turns to you. She makes a slightly embarrassing but endearing noise of excitement that has you laughing.

That’s when your eyes flicker over to Joel and your gaze locks with his.

Instantly, Joel’s handsome face drops. His gorgeous earth eyes widen as he immediately recognizes you. His mouth falls open slightly and a flash of something close to fear fills the depths of his eyes.

He breathes out your name on a shaky exhale.

Everything seems to slow and stop. You don’t know what to say. So all you do is weakly smile.

The fleeting moment fades. The next group in line already giggles moving towards the table.

Time’s up. Turning on your heels to leave with your friend, Joel calls out to you, calls your name.

“Wait!”

You freeze.

Glancing back at him, Joel’s eyes pin you on the spot. An unspoken heaviness hangs in his deep eyes while he stares intently at you.

“It’s okay, we’ll talk later.” By some strange possession of slight bravery, or maybe delusion, you manage to speak.

But it’s all you can say and it’s all you can do before Frank, Joel’s agent, slides in to whisper something to him.

The moment again shatters.

Your best friend however grills you the rest of the day

That’s when you pull out your phone. You show her a photo you secretly took of Joel. It’s one where he’s adorably glaring at his ipad while he tried ordering take out for dinner.

Your best friend shrieks. “He’s your boyfriend?!”

He is.

Your boyfriend, Joel, is a writer, a very famous best selling author.

And that weight yanks you under a dangerous current you can’t seem to swim against.

Even after lunch, even getting back to your apartment and trying to settle your thoughts, your emotions are still so tangled.

You mindlessly scroll through your phone for the rest of the day and a blink, you notice it’s already early evening. Your plan to stay sulking is ruined when your phone starts ringing so loud.

It’s Joel.

“Hello?” You answer as composed as you can.

“Darlin?” His beautiful rich voice sounds hesitant and guarded.

“Hi.” You reply back quietly.

“Can we talk?” He asks just as low.

You agree, expecting to have the discussion on the phone. Except a knock taps on your apartment door and scares you right out of your body.

Ever proactive, ever the man who takes action, Joel stands waiting for you when you open the door.

You’re thankful more than ever that your best friend went to the gym for the evening.

“Wanna sit outside for a bit? Maybe get some air? S’really nice outside today.” He offers gentle.

He’s breaking up with you. That’s what your mind jumps to.

At least the weather is surprisingly kind this early evening.

You’ve sat out here on your apartment’s decent sized balcony with Joel before. But now the energy between you and him shifts strangely.

The sky stretches above a soft sherbet orange. A breeze comes, thankfully not too cold, but you think about maybe heading in to grab a blanket.

Joel however quickly slings off his jacket and drapes it over you. Always the gentleman.

The smell of his cologne, so comforting and masculine, wraps around you like a cloud.

You thank him with a soft small smile and Joel nods. Then he sighs and leans forward on the folding chair.

“Always loved the outdoors.” He begins, a small olive branch of a conversation to break the tension. “The girls and I love hiking the trails out by the lake. You ever been?”

You shake your head no.

“Maybe one day we can all go together.” The comment holds hope, a delicate thread of it. Yet you catch the hesitation.

Your eyes flicker to him, confused and cautious.

“Wait, you aren’t breaking up with me?” You blurt out, maybe just wanting to get it over with. You hate the way your voice cracks slightly.

Joel, with his beautiful concerned wide eyes, snaps his face to you.

“What? Honey no. Thought maybe you’d be the one maybe tryin’ to break up with me.” Joel, who Sarah jokes about how some of their neighbors question if he’s perpetually grumpy, stares at you with a tenderness that melts you to your core.

You can’t help but laugh watery.

“Why d’ya think I’d want to end things with you?” He asks patiently.

You can think of so many.

He’s a famous writer who’s about to maybe become an online sensation. He’s older than you, wiser and seasoned. He’s a full on father with young teenage daughters.

So you reveal your heart to him and all the fears that dwell in its shadows. You wipe away a few tears that manage to spill out.

Joel moves to hold your hands in his, a guarded warmth and protection keeping you stable.

With a heavy sigh, Joel’s attention fully focused on you.

“Honey…I’m so sorry for not telling you about my work, about me, sooner.” He earnestly apologizes and his words drip with comforing earnesty.

Now his gaze drops down to where your hand sits in his.

“Didn’t want it complicatin’ things with us. I knew I had to tell you eventually. But really…I was worried you’d see me differently once you knew. I know I don’t seem like the writin’ type anyway.” He mutters and you miss the hint of embarrassment coloring his tone.

You squeeze his hands.

This could never make you look at Joel in a negative light. If anything, you now feel proud knowing he’s a writer. You do explain your worries though and the ache you felt knowing he kept his from you.

“I know darlin’ and I promise,” he squeezes your hands now. “No more secrets between us.”

“You…us…means more to me than you’ll know.” He adds and you draw his hands up to your mouth.

You kiss his worn hands, his hard working beautiful hands that now move to hold your face so tenderly in their grasp. His thumb strokes your bottom lip delicately as if you’ll disappear from his sight.

“Can I kiss ya baby?”

You nod and in that same breath Joel pulls you towards him. He kisses you light, delicate enough that you feel so precious and treasured within his hold.

It seems like such a simple small kiss but it soaks into your bones.

You have so many questions. And as much as you’d like to make out with your boyfriend on the balcony, you’d like answers.

So you pull away and stand up.

Joel looks adorable as confusion paints his face.

“Don’t worry I’m just getting us a blanket.” You grin at him as you sling on his jacket claiming it as your own.

Blanket in hand you now curl up with him in the lawn chair, thankful for its sturdiness and cozy size. Your heart soars at how quickly Joel pulls you into his arms and basically onto his lap.

It feels like it’s been months since you’ve last been with him, or maybe that’s just how exhausting today was.

Joel sighs content and pleased once you fully rest against him. Hesitantly you ask if it’s okay if you can talk about him, about his work.

“Ask away honey. I’ll tell ya everything n’ anything.” He says firm.

You grin and your thumb starts stroking the back of his hand.

“So what made you decide to reveal yourself now? I heard there was an issue about someone saying they were you?” You ask, thinking of the discussions earlier with your best friend.

“Yeah..” Joel now sighs tired with an ancient weariness that settles over his handsome face.

“Sarah was the one who saw it first on Twitter or wherever it was.” He adds with a grumble.

Your heart aches knowing one of the girls saw it first.

“Didn’t help either that I ain’t online. So it became a whole fuckin’ mess we had to deal with it a couple months back.”

A light bulb goes off inside your brain.

“Was that when you said you had to visit a family friend out of town?” You connect the dots.

“Yup.” Joel nods. “Went to visit Frank, my agent, to try and figure this shit out. Could’ve let it all maybe die down but… ya know.” He huffs and you understand completely.

Joel is too stubborn, a bit too prideful. You almost snort amused just over the thought of him trying to let the situation blow over.

“Frank wants to meet ya by the way.” Now his voice dips with a bashful tone while his hands begin softly stroking your thighs.

“I’d love to meet him too.” You truthfully tell Joel.

“So, are you going to be online now? Should I start making secret accounts to follow you?” You now tease and Joel barks a beautiful amused laugh.

“Baby, I’m over 50. The only apps I need on my phone are candy crush and ESPN. Ain’t got the time or patience for social medias.”

Now you’re the one laughing.

It feels freeing, blissful, like this is the first moment you’re spending time with him all over again. Yet, there’s a deeper sacred connection that settles.

You can’t help but kiss him again and Joel eagerly welcomes you on his lips.

Now his lips move fervently, almost possessively, against yours, licking and trying to consume you. A small moan squeaks out of you.

“Come on baby,” he mutters, shifting you against his lap so that you fully feel his hardness straining against his pants. “Wanna taste ya.”

You’re thankful you manage to drag him back inside because you can’t imagine getting intimate with Joel on the balcony. Well, at least not yet. But that was a thought for another day.

Now in the afterglow’s soft relaxing peace you wish for more time with him.

But Joel must sense that ache too.

“S’late honey. Come back home with me. Even if it’s just for the night.” He mutters against your lips and you can’t deny him. You don’t want to deny him or the aching tug pulling you to him.

That night you fully embrace every inch of the man Joel Miller is and let a dizzying adoration for him swallow you whole.

The next morning, in the soft early still dark shade of his room, Joel wakes you with a tender kiss to your forehead.

“Gotta go meet with Frank for the day. I’ll see ya later, honey.” He mutters against your cozy heated skin.

You hum a soft agreement and sleepily wish him a goodbye before falling back to sleep. After that, you wake up later to a colder and empty bed.

Tugging on another one of Joel’s shirts you head downstairs already missing his presence.

And when you get downstairs, there on the table sits the most gorgeous floral arrangement. Its beautiful vibrant blooms make your heart flutter so fast against its cage.

A folded paper sits beside the flowers. Your name is written on the front in Joel’s slightly chicken scratch like handwriting.

You scramble fast to grab it.

A letter, he’s written you a letter.

“Honey,

I know I’ve already apologized and you’ve forgiven my old undeserving ass.”

You snort at that line but continue on.

“But I just wanted to fully apologize to you again. Might take me a while until I stop, but just be patient with my old bones yeah?”

You would. Your heart would and will always wait for him.

“Doesn’t seem like it but, I aint that good at talking about things, about my feelings. Shocker right?”

You smirk. You know he isn’t good with words - that’s why it almost feels ironic and a bit unreal that he’s an author.

You’ve discovered Joel shows his affection through his actions.

He spent an entire day rearranging a business scheduling conflict just so that Tommy didn’t have to worry about it. Joel never missed a single one of Ellie’s basketball games. Sarah only prefers a certain type of orange juice and Joel never fails to only get that one.

The first few weeks you started dating Joel you got sick with a nasty cold. He dropped off a whole bag of various items like tissues and cough drops. It was then you knew his heart shines through his actions.

He sometimes surprises you with an order from your favorite take out spot. He never lets you touch a door, always opening them for you instead. He’s the most generous lover and never fails to remind you of how tender, how consuming, his passion can be.

Joel does grumble, sometimes even seems grouchy, but he loves fiercely.

And now here he is showing you this side of him, this form of himself as a writer.

So you return to reading his letter.

“I got into writing because it helped me process all my emotions, my thoughts, the good and bad days - everything. And sharing my writing with others, especially with someone as important as you, still makes me feel so vulnerable. Funny how that worked out though huh? Guess fate wanted to drag my ass and make me face my fears and vulnerability and whatnot.”

Someone as important as you - The line makes your heart flutter.

“I know I told you the reasons why I didn’t tell you. But another reason was because I was afraid.

I was afraid of how much you mean to me. Telling you about this part of me would be taking a bigger step. And it scared me shitless. Cause darlin’ I haven’t felt this way in a very long time. Like, as Ellie loves to say, in such a long time that ‘dinosaurs weren’t even fossils.’

That makes you laugh a bit watery but you let his words carry you again.

“You make my damn heart race when you smile. I get so worked up just seeing you walk around my house as if you were always meant to be here. And I didn't want to lose that either. I still don’t.

You feel like a bright future, like waking up after a cloudy week and the sun greets you so nicely. And I just wanna stay in that warmth, your warmth.

Yeah sorry, that line might be too romance novel writer for my league…but like I said I’m thinking about it. And it’s because of you.

We said no more secrets yeah?

So I’m not lying when I say you’ve become so god damn important to me. And I wanna see more days with you, as many as you’ll have with me.

Fuck. This damn letter already feels too long and I hate my old ass for rambling and maybe not making sense. But I adore you honey. Plain in simple.

And I’m just gonna leave it at that.

Don’t miss me too much and I’ll see you soon.

P.S I picked that bookstore as the tour’s first stop here because it’s where I met you… and I’ll always be grateful for that

-Joel”

You now fight back an absolute ocean’s worth of adoration for this man.

Tears clog your throat and you try not letting them flood your vision, but it’s so hard. So hard when you’re this head over heels.

You don’t want to say it yet, and you don’t know if he’s even ready to say it, but the emotion filling you like a newborn star feels like love.

You barely manage to send out a text thanking him and hoping you’ll get to talk to him soon.

Joel, ever the endearing man he is, replies back with a simple heart emoji and you laugh.

You really might love this man.

And you hope, you so brightly hope, that he maybe loves you too.

You think of his book series, of how he became a writer simply wanting to tell his daughters stories. Those stories grew out of his love for them and now he gets to crystallize that among his pages.

You realize how writing truly is its own form of love.

After all, what better way for a writer to show their love, their heart, than to capture you in their words?

You think that’s where writers must live now, in the heart. Or maybe - your maybe gruff handsome one just does. And you happily welcome Joel’s place in yours and hope he resides there forever like a love poem etched into your very soul.

[03jyh23]

🩶⌇nights like these┆choi san

established relationship, idol!san x gn!reader

│synopsis: the one where you are san's priority

│genre: hurt/comfort

│trigger warnings: descriptions of chronic illness, pain, nausea, and emotional distress

│words: 2.4 k

│reminder: what you’re about to read is purely fiction, so let’s keep it separate from reality.

!minors do not interact!

— hi there my lovely people! this one is a requested work that is very important to me! the person who requested it shared their struggles with me, so i put a lot of care and effort into writing this piece. i hope it brings them comfort and resonates with anyone else going through similar challenges. thank you for trusting me with your story. ♡

love, monika ♡

you: sannie, im sorry but im not gonna make it tonight, have fun! love you x

You barely typed out the message and leaned deeper into the soft pillows. You hated feeling that way, feeling completely out of control of your own body. It was as if your own flesh and bones had turned against you, conspiring to ruin the moments you had been looking forward to. Another rush of nausea hit you, stronger this time, and you couldn't help but wrap your arms around yourself, trying to find some semblance of comfort. The persistent and haunting question lingered in your mind: Why were you so out of control? You wished you could muster the strength to push through, to be by San's side, but tonight, your body had other plans. You were helpless against a body that sabotaged all your important plans. You wanted the energy to be with San, to support him and not to disappoint the person you loved yet again, but tonight, you knew there was nothing you could do to feel better. You just needed to lay through it  

After all this time of having this health problem, you learned just how to live with it, so since early morning you tried to push the symptoms aside, focusing on getting ready. It was a routine you had perfected—ignoring the pain, the nausea, the overwhelming fatigue. You had become a master of disguise, hiding your struggles behind a cheerful facade. But tonight, even your best efforts weren't enough. 

Usually, you would go about with your day, that's why you were currently lying flat on your bed dressed in that pretty outfit San bought for you especially for tonight, all ready to go and celebrate with him. Just as you were about to leave, the usual symptoms hit you with the power of a train. It was as if your body had chosen this exact moment to remind you of its frailty, to assert its dominance over your will. Tonight was supposed to be different. Tonight, you were supposed to be standing beside San, holding his hand and cheering for him. You had been looking forward to this night for weeks, planning every detail. The thought of disappointing him weighed heavily on you, maybe even heavier than the nausea. You knew how much it meant to him to have you there, and the guilt gnawed at you from the inside. 

A burning stomach pain flared up, adding to the discomfort. It felt as though your insides were on fire, each wave of pain more intense than the last. You clutched your stomach, curling up tighter, wishing for some relief. The pain was relentless, a cruel reminder of the battle you were fighting within your own body. It was moments like these when you felt most defeated, most vulnerable. 

"Baby?" you opened your heavy eyes only to see San kneeling beside the bed, eye level with you. You didn't even notice you had fallen asleep. His eyes were filled with concern, his short, black hair was styled back, making him look incredibly elegant. He wore a white shirt with the first few buttons casually unbuttoned. His eye makeup was minimal, with just a hint of eyeliner to accentuate his eyes, exactly the way you always liked it. He must have rushed out straight from his dressing room, you thought as you blinked a few times to get rid of the tiredness. 

"Sannie? What are you doing here?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. 

San reached out, gently brushing a strand of hair away from your face. 

"I just had a feeling that today is rough on you. You didn't reply to any of my calls, so I rushed home," he said softly, his voice filled with concern and love. "I couldn't just leave you here alone," he said softly. "I wanted to be here for you." 

"I'm so sorry. I didn't want to ruin your night," you whispered, your voice cracking with emotion. 

San shook his head, a small smile playing on his lips. "Hey, don't say that. You could never ruin my night. I just want to be here with you, make sure you're okay," he reassured, his hand gently stroking your head. Tears welled up in your eyes as you looked at him, overwhelmed by his kindness. 

"I just hate feeling like this, being a burden," you admitted, your voice trembling. 

San’s expression softened even more. His fingers traced the few tears that managed to escape your eyes, then he kissed your forehead whispering, "You never are nor never will be a burden." You closed your eyes, feeling the gentle touch of his soft lips against your skin, a tingling warmth spreading through you. The tension in your muscles began to melt away as San’s fingers traced soothing patterns along your arm. You took a deep breath, allowing the warmth of his presence to envelop you. The pain and nausea, though still present, seemed to fade into the background as you focused on the steady rhythm of his touch. 

"But the party?" you mumbled out, "The boys must be so disappointed." 

San shook his head gently, his expression softening even more. "Don't worry about them right now. The boys understood, and Hongjoong reassured me it was all good. What's important is that we take care of you," he said soothingly, his fingers continuing to trace comforting patterns on your arm. 

"Thank you, Sannie," you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. "For being here." 

He kissed your forehead again, lingering a bit longer this time. "Of course, my love. Always," he whispered back, his breath warm against your skin. You could hear the sincerity in his voice, and it eased some of the guilt that had been weighing you down. "Can you stand up? We need to get you in something comfortable first," San suggested gently, his hands ready to help you. You nodded weakly, grateful for his help as he eased you out of the outfit and into something more comfortable. 

"Is it any better now that you've slept for a while?" he asked, his voice filled with gentle concern as he rearranged the pillows on the bed. He brought an extra blanket, knowing you would likely get cold. 

"A little," you admitted, your voice still weak but filled with gratitude. "But I can feel the migraine creeping in slowly," you added, your voice tinged with fatigue and frustration. 

San nodded, his brow furrowing slightly with worry. "I'll get your medication and some water," he said, standing up to fetch the items. 

"I don't think I can take the medications," you admitted, your voice trembling slightly. "It feels like if I swallow anything, I would just rush to the toilet." 

San paused, his eyes filled with concern. "Okay, let's not push it then," he said softly, returning to your side. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you close to rest your head on his shoulder. You could feel the steady rise and fall of his chest, a soothing rhythm that started to calm your racing thoughts. He began drawing gentle patterns on your back, a gesture that always made you relax, his touch tender. 

You breathed in his cologne and felt your stomach clenching. The scent, usually comforting and familiar, now seemed overwhelming to your already sensitive senses. You backed out from his arms, holding a hand to your face to stave off the wave of nausea that threatened to overtake you. San looked at you with wide eyes, his brows furrowing slightly in confusion and concern before it hit him. "Love, I'm so sorry, it's the perfume? Too strong? I'm gonna change," he said hurriedly, already moving towards the closet to find something else to wear. 

"It's okay, Sannie," you mumbled, trying to muster a reassuring smile. "I just need a moment." 

But San had already swapped his formal shirt for something more comfortable and less scented. He returned to your side, "Better now?" he asked softly, his eyes searching for any sign of relief. 

You only nodded, and he took your hand, guiding you to the bed. "You are babying me too much," you mumbled as you followed in his steps, your voice tinged with a mix of gratitude and mild embarrassment.

San shook his head, a playful glint in his eyes. "Hm...." he scoffed dramatically, "I think I don't baby you enough, though?" 

You couldn't help but let out a small laugh despite the pain and discomfort you were feeling. San's dramatic tone and exaggerated expression brought a moment of lightness to an otherwise heavy night. "Really?" you asked, raising an eyebrow at him, trying to match his playful energy. 

"Absolutely," he replied with a grin, sitting down beside you. "Now, let's get you settled." You settled back into the bed, feeling a bit more at ease with San by your side. The pain and nausea were still there, but somehow, with his presence, they seemed a little more bearable. "Do you need me to bring something?" San asked, his voice filled with genuine concern. 

You shook your head slightly, feeling the weight of his love and care enveloping you. "Just stay here with me, that's all I need," you whispered.

"Alright, I will just put the curtains in case the migraine hits," he said as he quickly darted through the room to the windows. You watched him with tired eyes, the room dimmed as he drew the curtains, blocking out the harsh light that often worsened your migraines. The soft, muted light that remained was much gentler on your senses. 

San returned to your side, his movements gentle and deliberate, as if he were afraid of causing you any more discomfort. "Scoot over," San said softly, a gentle smile playing on his lips. You shifted slightly, making room for him on the bed. He carefully climbed in beside you, wrapping his arms around you. 

"Thank you for being so patient with me. I really needed you tonight," you whispered, your voice filled with gratitude. 

San held you a little tighter, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. "I'll always be here for you, no matter what," he murmured softly. San was drawing small circles on your back, your face buried in his chest. Your eyes were heavy, the migraine setting in, and you could feel the pressure building behind your temples. The gentle, rhythmic motion of his hand was soothing, a small comfort amidst the pain and discomfort, allowing you to relax slightly despite the throbbing in your head. 

Just as you began to drift off to sleep, your body started trembling uncontrollably. The sudden tremors jarred you awake, and you felt a wave of panic wash over you. San immediately noticed, his grip tightening around you in a protective embrace. 

"Hey, it's okay, I'm here," he whispered, his voice steady and calming. He gently rubbed your back, trying to soothe your body. "Just breathe, love. I'm right here with you." You focused on his voice, on the warmth of his presence, trying to steady your breath. The trembling slowly began to subside, and you clung to San, feeling a mixture of fear and relief. "Are you feeling dizzy again? Like the last time?" San asked, his voice tinged with concern. 

You nodded weakly, the dizziness making it hard to focus on anything. "Yeah, it's just... everything is spinning," you managed to whisper, clutching onto him. You closed your eyes, trying to steady your breathing as San's presence provided a comforting anchor. The room seemed to tilt and spin, but his calming voice and gentle touch helped you stay grounded. "I'm sorry, San," you murmured, feeling a wave of guilt wash over you. 

San shook his head, his expression filled with love and reassurance. "Don't apologize, my love. You can't control this, and I'm here to help you through it," he murmured softly. "I will keep you safe," he whispered, his voice filled with unwavering determination and love. "Just rest," he murmured softly. "I'll be right here with you." You nodded, feeling the weight of exhaustion pulling you under. San's hand continued to trace soothing patterns on your back, his touch gentle and reassuring. Gradually, your breathing steadied, and you found yourself relaxing into his embrace. 

As you drifted in and out of sleep, you could feel San's steady heartbeat beneath your cheek, a rhythm that grounded you. Hours passed in a blur of half-conscious moments and deep, dreamless sleep. Every time you stirred, San was there, his presence a steady source of comfort and love. You could feel his fingers brushing through your hair, his lips pressing gentle kisses to your head. He held you through the worst of it, never once leaving your side. 

When you finally woke, the pain had dulled to a manageable throb, and the nausea had receded enough for you to sit up slightly. San was still there, his eyes filled with concern and relief as he saw you stir. 

"Hey," he said softly, a gentle smile playing on his lips as he looked at you with concern. "How are you feeling?" 

You took a deep breath, assessing your condition and trying to gather your thoughts. "A bit better," you admitted, your voice still weak but more stable than before. The remnants of fatigue lingered, but you felt a small spark of improvement. 

"I'm glad to hear that," San replied, his smile growing a bit wider with relief. "Do you think you can eat something light? Maybe some broth or a bit of toast?" 

You nodded slowly, appreciating his care and the gentle way he always seemed to know what you needed. "I think I could try," you said, feeling a bit more hopeful at the thought of eating something. 

"Alright, let me order something, hm?" San said, giving you a reassuring smile as he gently helped you sit up against the pillows, adjusting them to make sure you were comfortable. 

"Thank you, Sannie," you whispered, feeling a surge of gratitude for his unending support and the way he always put your well-being first. 

San smiled warmly, his eyes filled with love and tenderness. "Anything for you, my love," he said, placing a soft kiss on your lips, his touch gentle and comforting. As he reached for his phone to place the order, you couldn't help but feel a deep sense of gratitude and love for having someone like San by your side, through thick and thin. 

♡│if you enjoy my writing please consider supporting me by tagging and reblogging│

♡│requests are open │

[0anonnymouslyours0]

hi I have literally never done this before but I saw your post just now and thought what the heck

could you write a small thing about spencer reid where reader and him are neighbours and they both have a little crush on each other but never get to interact because spencer is literally never there

until either reader or spencer's apartment floods and it's 3am so they just go to their neighbour and there's maybe a cute confession?

(feel free to add your own pizzazz I love your writing!!!) <3333

hihihi girl! request anytime! this also ended up being a lotttt longer then intended <3

warnings: none, its fluffy its cute, like rlly cute and a bit cliche.

spencer reid. that was your neighbours name. considering he was home very little, you'd only seen him a few times and you've never even spoken a word; it seemed silly how much time you spent thinking about him.

you'll admit, your a sucker for a tall brunette with glasses, who wore ties and vests, and perhaps looked just a little nerdy. it was sweet, spencer looked very sweet.

he also happens to be your next door neighbour. like literally, you open the door of your house every day, and are confronted with the site of his own house. he's right there. you've debated sliding a note under his door, or just knocking and suggesting coffee, but you've always backed out.

the opportunity however, presents itself in a slightly annoying way. in the afternoon, you arrive home and walk into your living room to discover the entire floor flooded. one quick check of the house, and you've determined the entire place is flooded.

"jesus christ." you mutter, dialing a plumber and the flood services in your city.

when they arrive, its determined your house will be unliveable for 2 days. 2 whole days.

the plumber, matt, stares at you. "apologies, lady, but your pipes are pretty busted. its gonna cost you too."

you groan, annoyed.

"oh, uh your neighbour, you should check with them. see if they've got any issues." he adds.

you stop, spencer. your neighbour. you have a reason to go talk to him. you leave the plumber, and his little team to get to work, and cross the street to spencers house.

knock. knock.

maybe he isnt home. you look at his driveway. his car is there. the door creaks, and opens, revealing spencer reid. the man himself. in all his messy hair, rumpled shirt, afternoon glory. he pushes his glasses up, staring at you, suprised.

"hi. sorry i'm-"

"y/n." he says, quickly, and then flushes.

"right." your suprised he knows your name, though you do know his. "look uhm, sorry to bother you.. but my house kind of flooded. like everywhere. so, uhh- i was just checking if your house is all good."

his eyes widen. "your entire house? is flooded?"

you nod, grimacing. "yeah.. i mean my stuffs fine, i just have to find somewhere to stay and its a pain." you say, folding your arms and sighing.

he looks at you for a moment, thoughtful.

"uh.. besides from the fact im a total stranger.. you could um, stay with me? i mean. i have a guest room, im usually out all day. i'll cook." he says, quickly. he looks at you, expecting a no.

your suprised at his offer, intrigued even. he seems safe, your not uncomfortable.. and it would save you from having to stay in some cheap hotel.

"really? i mean- are you sure?" you confirm, raising your eyebrows at him.

he nods energetically, smiling. "i mean, it would be easier for you."

you nod, smiling back.

"well.. uh come in?" he says, shuffling to the side awkwardly.

his house is delightful, with heavy linen curtains, and tall bookshelves. the house is mostly wood, with touches of green and navy. it fits him perfectly.

"nice place you have here." you say, smiling.

"thank you." he says, staring at you for a moment. you catch him, and he looks away quickly.

"do you, uhm want a coffee? we can sit for a bit if you'd like." he says, gesturing at the couches in his living room.

you nod. "black with sugar, please."

"oh- i have mine just the same." he grins, hurrying off the the kitchen, before returning with a cup for you. he sits opposite you, studying you for a moment.

"so.. spencer, how long have you lived here?" you ask.

"5 years. which.. i think is a year longer then you?" he smiles.

"correct. uh, where do you work?"

he pauses, thinking thoughtfully. "truthfully, i work in the fbi. behavioral analysis unit." he says, staring right at you.

you shuffle in your seat, suddenly aware that this possibly means he can read your every emotion, or thought.

"thats very.. impressive, but then again you do have an intelligent look to you."

he chuckles, "well, i have been told i dress the part."

you laugh, smiling at him.

"you know.. i noticed you a while ago." he says, looking down at his coffee and swirling it.

you raise an eyebrow, curious.

"how so?"

"well, if i may be bold, your very- uhm very pretty."

your eyes widen, taken aback. you flush, letting out a soft giggle.

"you think so?" you whisper, staring at him. he finally looks up at you, nodding.

"do you say that to all the women you invite into your home?" you tease.

"i don't often invite women into my home.. in fact, you might be a first. quite special." he smiles. your cheeks feel hotter.

"well, spencer, i noticed you a while ago too. your very cute. you might be just my type." you say, staring at him.

its his turn to blush, and he looks nervous, as he turns away from you, lips parting into a smile.

"perhaps a blessing in disguise your apartment being flooded.." he whispers, the smile evident in his voice.

"i mean," you chuckle. "there has been one good outcome.."

"mmm.. silver linings and all." he says, turning to look you right in the eye. its sweet, hes very sweet. you think your very much going to enjoy your next two days here... perhaps even extend your stay.

[kayleighwinchester]

Five Things You Know About Dean Winchester - and One You Don't: II

(( Here we go, all! The second installment of Five Things You Know About Dean Winchester - and One You Don't! Sickeningly fluffy, for this one! As with most of these so far, much love to @artyandink for suggesting and running the Jensen-a-thon, and thank you so much for all of the love on part 1!)) Dean Winchester was a mystery. 

It was one you were slowly unraveling bit by bit, visit by visit; he would climb in your window every month or so, stay a few days, and disappear again by the end of the week – but slowly, you were learning about him, about who he was, beyond the charismatic smile and easy, confident attitude.

.*

You learned quickly how much touch meant to Dean.

It was like he couldn’t get enough of even the simplest contact. You saw it in even the simplest things – how he seemed to melt into every hug, how he leaned into each kiss, treating all contact like he was a man starved. 

He’d arrived far earlier than usual this time, coming through your window in the early morning; you didn’t want to know what, exactly, your neighbors had to be thinking when he scaled the tree beside the house to your bedroom window in broad daylight. 

You had only woken up about a half an hour before, and had yet to move out of your bed - you were still stretched out like a starfish under the covers, groggy and content, eyes half-following some trashy reality TV show that you, truly, couldn’t care less about. He’d given you that brilliant, million dollar smile of his as he toed his way out of his boots, folded his jacket and placed it in its usual spot on your dresser, and plopped down on the edge of your bed, as if he belonged there. 

“Mornin’, Sweetheart.” 

You didn’t reply – not at first. No, the first thing you had the energy to do was roll over, arms snaking slowly around his middle, your words muffled by his tee-shirt as you offered a mumbled, “Too early.” into his side. You could feel him shake slightly with silent laughter, his hand running down your back briefly. 

“What can I say? Wanted to see my favorite girl. Didn’t even get a motel this time.” 

You let out a small noise of acknowledgement, arms tightening around him. It wasn’t a particularly comfortable position to lay in, even you had to admit that, and, a bit reluctantly, you released your grip, sitting up and scrubbing a hand over your face. “Where were you this time?” You asked. Sitting up fully didn’t last long – only long enough for you to stretch, before you were slouching forward again, your forehead pressing against his shoulder.

His voice still held that barely-contained laughter as he spoke once more. “Chicago. ‘Least it wasn’t a bad drive.” 

You hummed out another soft little sound, letting your eyes drop closed for a moment longer, before you spoke up. “Did you get breakfast on the way?” The last time you’d looked at your alarm clock, it had been just barely seven – it was a good enough excuse, you supposed, to try to stick to the healthy habits you’d been struggling to keep; breakfast was the most important meal of the day, or something like that.

“Nah. Bit burnt out on McDonald’s, ‘n I didn’t wanna stop for real.” He turned slightly, resting his cheek on the top of your head. 

“I can make something.” You offered, finally forcing yourself to sit up once more, quickly turning your face upwards to steal a brief, light kiss. You never got tired of it, the way his eyes sparkled, the way his lips curled up into a smile every time.

“You sure?” He asked, watching you fumble your way out of bed, his eyes lingering on the tiny pajama shorts you wore, before they darted back up to yours. “You don’t have to get up, y’know – I can wait,” 

You shook your head. “I’m trying to actually start eating breakfast,” You informed him, “so I was gonna have to get up sooner or later.” You weren’t sure that helped your case much – he still looked a bit guilty, but pushed himself up off of the bed anyway. 

He followed you like a shadow, only breaking away once you entered the kitchen; you made a bee-line for the fridge, and he stopped in front of the crappy little coffee maker you’d picked up at a resale shop. It wasn’t the first morning you’d spent together, and there was at least a loose routine to it, though you were typically practically falling asleep at the table as he got the coffee going.

For a time, you worked in companionable silence – once the coffee was started, he leaned his weight against the counter, just following you with his eyes. You’d just started on the pancakes, a pan of bacon on the other burner, eggs on the third, when he moved forward, his arms winding around your waist, his chin coming to rest on your shoulder.

“Thank you.” He barely more than mumbled it, his voice giving you the distinct impression that he was far more tired than he’d let on. You opened your mouth to speak, but he continued. “‘N not just for the food.”

He was taller than you – you couldn’t imagine the way he was standing was particularly comfortable for his neck or back – but he nonetheless nuzzled his face into the curve of your neck, his breath warm against your skin. You weren’t sure you’d ever felt him so relaxed – there was no tension in the way he was standing, his hold around you loose and lazy, his breathing even and his heartbeat steady and calm against your back. 

“You better not fall asleep on me,” You warned halfheartedly, though you instinctively leaned your head against his, even if your newfound positions made flipping the pancakes and keeping the bacon from burning a bit more difficult than was strictly necessary. 

“Not going to.” He said simply, pressing a lazy kiss beneath your ear, before he straightened up slightly, though his arms didn’t leave your waist, as if he couldn’t bring himself to lose that contact, his thumbs moving in lazy circles on your sides over your sleep shirt. 

He finally reluctantly pried himself away when the coffee maker let out a chime – one that was beginning to sound a little old, a little like you’d be needing to invest in a new one soon. As you plated the pancakes, bacon, and eggs, moving them over to the table, he busied himself with the coffee – yours with a generous amount of sugar and flavored creamer, and his black – before he settled into his usual seat beside you at the table, his leg just barely brushing yours. 

You’d barely gotten the first pancake onto your plate before he spoke up, the bottle of creamer held in his hand like he fully expected it to bite him. “‘S this any good?” He asked, studying the label intently.

“I mean, I like it.” You offered, continuing to plate up your own breakfast.

A beat, and then, as if he fully expected something – laughter, maybe – he asked, “Mind if I try it?” You glanced up again, startled to find that he genuinely did look a bit like he expected you to say no, or maybe tease him for it. 

“Go ahead,” You encouraged. 

He studied you for a moment longer, before adding a splash of creamer to his coffee, taking a drink. His expression lightened a bit, but there was a certain forced gruffness to his voice as he offered, “‘S alright, I guess.” You pretended not to notice as he added a bit more. You couldn’t, however, not notice the way his free hand settled on your leg, just above your knee, as he ate, his fingers occasionally gently squeezing – and it was only a few moments before he offered, “Really, Y/N, thanks.” He paused for a moment, before he added, “This’s… Nice.” His expression screamed that there were probably a million other words he could have used, but even that one spoke volumes.

Breakfast was a quiet affair, generally, with neither of you being particularly fond of mornings, and this time was no different; the longer he sat there, the more you could see the exhaustion creeping onto his face, the way his eyes began to gloss over just a little, the way his shoulders slumped. If he really had driven all the way from Chicago, presumably through the night, one cup of coffee wasn’t going to be a miracle cure. 

He tailed you like a lost puppy as you cleared the table, and as you gave the dishes a quick rinse off, intending to leave them for later, his arms snaked around your waist once more, his chin resting against the crown of your head. You didn’t have to look up to know his eyes were probably rapidly closing. Still, you’d known him long enough to know his stubborn nature, so you gently offered, “It’s still a little early for me,” A glance at the clock on the stove read just past eight, which certainly was a few hours earlier than you typically tended to get up. “I could use a couple more hours of sleep.”

You could practically feel him sag against you in relief. “I could pro’lly snag a couple hours.” He said – his tone, which attempted to imply that it was a ‘maybe’ and not a ‘definitely’, certainly screamed that he could do with more than just a couple.

This time, his hands never left you fully as he followed you back up the stairs – first his hand resting on your back, then, as you made your way back into your room, his fingers found yours, the contact only breaking for a moment as he fumbled his way out of his jeans, finding a pair of sweats he’d left behind the last time, tucked carefully into the top drawer of your dresser alongside other bits and pieces of clothing he’d forgotten – or maybe left on purpose. 

You lifted the covers as he padded back over to the bed, flopping down beside you with a quiet groan that he couldn’t quite muffle – he always treated your bed like it was the most comfortable thing he’d ever had the pleasure of sleeping on. He rolled over, his arms snaking around you and pulling you close, his lips pressing to your forehead. His breathing had already evened out, soft and slow against your skin.

It was practically instinct, the way your hand moved up to comb through his hair, and you could feel his lips twitch into the faintest sleepy smile, and the words he mumbled against your forehead practically made your heart stop. "Love you, Sweetheart."

(( Tag List? Maybe?: @keanuispunk ))

[lollipopliccer]

𝔄 𝔥𝔢𝔞𝔯𝔱𝔣𝔢𝔩𝔱 𝔰𝔪𝔦𝔩𝔢 ❦

❦ warning lollipop chaos ahead! proceed with caution… ❦ light angst , happy ending , ex getō suguru , tattoo artist suguru , set in a tattoo parlour , soft dom geto , praise , cunnilingus , masochism , light sadism & impact play , ig semi public and i guessss office sex

the descriptions of this tattoo experience is not accurate, i dunno shit abt tattoos (even tho i rlly wanna get one). so don't bite my fucking dick off with the technicalities! lets just b happy that i acc posted this hehehe

word count ; 5k ish

black fem reader (still all can read)

lollipopliccer’s love letter ❦ … hiiiii lollipops 🪷 i just wanted to say thank u sm for the love on my debut fic i rlly appreciated it. i’m rlly excited for y’all to read this new one EEEEE. this one was also long as helllll (¬_¬), shit has just been ridiculous in my life rn so sorry abt the delay, i don’t even know y it took me this long just to write 5k ugh anywayyy. i’m excited, cus i always eat up geto tattoo artist head-cannons, mmmm they’re just so mm mm mm tasty. anyway this is my first time writing some angst, i usually stay clear away from any typa angst, i’ve already got enough of that in my life plss haahaa, i don’t even know what possessed me to dip my toe in it, but don’t worry it’s very light. okayy enough of the babble, pls enjoy my fic, and i’d appreciate all ur interaction, reposts, comments, feedback blah blah… mwah mwah mwah ( ੭ ˘ ³˘)੭‎°｡⋆♡‧₊˚

'i'm so excitteedddd' you squeal, as your best friend nobara parks her car, beside the tattoo parlor. you both had been planning your tattoos together for a few weeks now settling on the most beautiful matching heart design on both your bikini lines, whilst individually having unique patterns going through the (tatted) hearts.

"you better not fucking scream when you're actually under the gun" nobara chastises laughing.

"fuck you bitch, you already know i'm bad like that, not even gonna flinch" you taunt, as you both get out of her car.

you decided on wearing a fitted, short black dress, that accentuated your curves and hips but would also be easily manoeuvrable for your tattoo placement. shoko Ieiri your tattoo artist made sure you were comfortable with your design and placement.

underneath your dress, you wore bikini bottoms with side ties, for the same reasons as the dress - paired with some white trainers with pink embellishments. you complete your outfit with jewellery. including your pandora bracelet with silver and pink charms, a necklace, and stud earrings.

you both walk into the parlour, it's decorated all over its dark blue walls with a myriad of paintings, sketches, and different artworks. nobara leads you to the front desk as she had booked the appointment. you're greeted by a raven-haired girl with a short pixie cut.

"hey, are you guys here for your appointment?" she asks, as you notice her name tag- 'maki', and her tattoos and scars peeking through her top.

"yeah, um we had an appointment for 6:30 pm" nobara states, you can see her start to blush at maki.

"cool, yeah i'll check that out for you, umm..." maki responds

nobara so obviously interested in maki, decides to flirt, while you absent-mindedly look at the artwork placed across the shop. it's truly captivating, the deep dark hues and colours, so beautifully drawn, depicting what you could only describe as demons. they were more abstract than the stereotypical depiction, but these works somehow gave more meaning and conveyed more torment.

"so how long have you been working here, maki right?" nobara asks

"yeah, i started some months ago."

"that's cool, i love your tats”

“thank you, i um did some of em myself, nobara right?” maki responds getting nobara’s name from the booked appointment slot

“yeah…” nobara smiles shyly

“…are those your sketches up there? nobara asks, pointing to one of the sketches you've been staring at, there's a familiarity to the work displayed. but you can't put your finger on it.

"no um that's actually from another tattoo artist's, geto." maki answers.

you almost freeze, just from the mention of his name "who?!"

"uhh geto suguru, he owns the place, his artwork is all over these walls" maki responds to you.

a shiver runs up your spine "oh..."

"on that note, i'm sorry for the inconvenience girls, but shoko, your tattooist she had to take our other colleague gojo to the hospital- broke his arm doing some dumb shit. so she won't be able to actually give you your tattoo’s today, however we're able to swap her in for geto suguru, he just got back into town and is just as talented"

"shit" nobara turns to you, already knowing the issue from just his name alone, "yn i had no idea omg, i should've checked better, we can leave"

"nah there'll be no need for that, right yn?" you hear his voice. his silky deep voice, it always had that raspy quality that made your knees go weak. another shiver runs down your spine. you whip around.

"why tf are you here?" you sneer.

"uhh i work here…" he answers deadpan.

you turn back around, after giving him a lethal sneer, "hey um maki is there any other artist today?"

"no, i'm sorry, everyone else is booked." she apologises

"and anyway, it'll be a hassle for you guys if you were to reschedule," geto states

you simply stare at nobara refusing to even glance at him.

"come on yn" geto insists gently, leaning closer to you. your back to him. your name on his lips has you reeling, how softly he calls to you, like no other.

nobara waits for what you want to do, and if you're comfortable being tattooed by your ex in such an intimate area?

"let's get this done", you tell nobara, you turn around to face geto who has that enticing smirk.

as you follow him to his workspace, nobara hangs back reassured that you're comfortable being with your ex. you get the chance to truly take him in since last you saw him. his tattoo’s have grown, as he's painted a whole-sleeved dragon across his left arm, slithering out of his tight-fitted black t. your eyes roam all over his body, soaking in his confident stride, his height, taller than you remember. the way he ties part of his black, luscious hair in the bun is similar but different from the way you remember, leaving the rest of his hair to hang past his shoulders. but his right-hand tattoo is as you remember. a rose’s stem covered in thorns, wrapped around his hand, you can't help but still have your heart swell from that.

as he opens the door for you, you strut past him in silence, he of course responds with an eye roll to your petulance. his workspace is decorated with more of his works, some unfinished, yet so mesmerising you can't look away from them, they seem to depict a greater depth, too intimate for the outer world. the deep hues of dark royal blues, blacks, and green meld together, casting an otherworldly aura. the demons here have this eerie elegance, their features subtly tormenting, evoking such sorrows.

"if you're not comfortable with me tattooing you, we don't have to, i will let you reschedule free of charge-" "i know." you state, without hesitation. and with that, the silence returns as geto smiles slightly, he then grabs his equipment, lining them up, his needle gun, ink, etc.

"why did you insist on me not rescheduling then?" you taunt

"i wouldn't say i instisted" geto defends.

"mmm really? cus i'd even say you implored" you smirk. seeing you smile… he wonders how he could’ve forgotten how magnetic it is.

"i just wanted to see you…”

a pause.

"you broke up with me." you interrupt coldly, both of you are reminded of your separation...

… you begged him to stay. the pain you felt completely consumed you, leaving you empty…

geto holds your gaze. your eyes filled with anger, but also longing. you try to conceal your feelings by turning around.

"yn..." he calls out to you, but you ignore him, seemingly too entranced by a random splotch on the wall, while trying to hold it all in "...yn look at me", geto approached.

you turned around slowly. almost stubbornly, you made sure to look him in his eyes, those deep dark orbs that never failed to suck you into a world of intensity and sensitivity. you both hold each other's gaze, so much said between each other, longing, and regret.

"i am sorry yn, i-" in his attempt to express his apology, you immediately stride past to sit on the tattoo bed, too overwhelmed.

"-right so like from a scale of 1-10, 10 being i'm gonna need to b fucking sedated, how painful is this tat going to be" you ramble, trying to divert the conversation.

you ignore his sigh, as he walks to his chair. he then chooses to focus on preparing his equipment, sterilising them, all that shit. "the tattoo shouldn't be that painful, especially as you requested numbing cream."

"cool" you respond curtly, you follow his actions on focusing on the task at hand, and lift up the side of your dress, to expose the side you were getting tatted on.

when geto looks back he sees your pink bikini bottoms with string ties, he looks away trying to keep his composure "just want you to give me an idea where you want your heart and thorns”.

you clear your throat a little, to try and calm your nerves, “um just around here, i trust your um artistic inclinations. have some freedom with it, i know its kinda simple but i um- the thorns i want them to wrap around, please.”

“of course, yn”

geto trying his best to make this experience as comfortable as possible begins applying the numbing cream. he looks you in your eyes, to see if there were any remaining apprehensions, finding none, the gun comes to life.

“you tell me how you’re feeling throughout this process, if anything feels off with what i am doing, you tell me, do you understand?” geto instructs, his firmness, and apprehension to cause you any unnecessary harm stirs things in you. things you’ve tried repressing, tried to move on from, evidently unsuccessfully.

you nod in response adding a “yes”. and so begins the process, as geto brings needle to skin, his art begins to mark you. the initial twitch of pain you feel is subdued by the numbing cream generously applied. although you can’t help the slight yelp that falls from your lips, which geto catches onto and immediately soothes “shhh it’s okay, the cream will kick in soon won’t feel a thing hun”. his words soothe you, as they always used to, leading you to simply whimper in slight pain. you can’t help but look at him, at how he’s completely focused on your brown skin, that he marks by his hands.

…

as the hours go on, you slowly see geto’s work, his art come together, the red hues of the heart mixing together with slight pinks but also contrasted shades of black, to provide it with such depth, teasing the later depictions of darkness the thorns will add. you are in complete awe of this man, of his work, as you watch him work completely zoned in, despite any dull pain mumbling under the numbing cream.

as your focus lays on him- memories, old feelings of pain, sadness, and confusion begin to bubble again, and you blurt…

“why did you leave?”

a pause…

followed by silence… your demand for answers hanging over you both, while he still remains focused on your tattoo, you remain waiting. you know he heard you.

“i found myself in darkness again, yn, but that time it was even more challenging.. my hallucinations, my night terrors all came back, i was in it deep…” he pauses trying to find his words, and you give him that space “… i knew you were there for me, holding me when i woke up screaming. you stood by me…” he paused

“…however i couldn’t let you do that, i couldn’t bring you there with me. not when i couldn’t wear a heartfelt smile in this world. i needed to find myself again, my purpose. and i know the way i left you, was cold, and confusing, and i am truly sorry, but i had to do it for myself.” as you listen attentively, watching him intently, he slowly gazes at you, pausing his work. your eyes meet with such intensity, such ache, and you start welling up, finally understanding everything, no longer being left with nothing but a cold departure.

“i’m sorry- m’so- ‘m so so sorry geto” tears cascade down your face, geto is quick to wipe them away, softly holding your precious face.

“sshh, ssh baby, don’t be silly mmm, you did nothing wrong, and i’ve been doing better. so much better. finding new channels to express how i feel, what i see.” referring to the intricate art that decorated his walls.

you sniffle, you feel so guilty and ashamed, for the resentment you harboured against him when he was out there trying to fight his way out of such a dark mental space. “they’re beautiful.” you sniffle

“not a day goes by that i don’t think about you, that i don’t regret the way i left. i would’ve come back but i thought you would move on...”

“i didn’t.” you respond

“neither did i.”

with your admissions to one another, a comforting silence fell, filling the room with sweet serenity, and you both found yourselves tethered together once again, holding each other’s gaze, filled with yearning.

you were the first to break, averting your gaze, feeling like it was the first time meeting, how your butterflies bloomed and fluttered, riddled with carnal hunger for him. the paradox of your feelings for him always consumed you, almost driving you mad, only geto could set you so ablaze.

the needle resumed its course, mechanically piercing your skin. both your attentions returned to their original positions.

the only difference being the shift in the atmosphere, the reignition of your feelings for one another, but this time at a tenfold from the time spent apart, wanting no other.

“ahh it’s getting a little sore geto” you whine in slight pain

“sorry yn, we’re moving onto the thorns now, we’ll soon be done, why don’t you take a look at it for me, tell if you don’t like anything?”

as he wipes over the completed heart, filled with colours and dimensions, so deep and beautiful, truly depicting more than you could imagine, it’s medium-sized maintaining a slight cuteness to the art, but still depicts chaos within, which geto clearly understood about you, and so was best to depict it.

“i love it.” you squeal, looking into his eyes, as he looks for reassurance from you. his vibrant smile brightens his face, you hadn’t seen it in so long, and it warmed you.

“good, we’re going to move to the thorns, wrapped down your thigh, why don’t you tell me about your choice of thrones?” geto asked so he could understand your thought process behind the tattoo.

you were apprehensive to reveal your thorns, largely from a place of embarrassment. you didn’t want to show how much he had affected you, and still did, but you did not want to lie to him especially after, he revealed himself so intimately to you.

the thorns, um, i got them from you…” geto halts at this, looking at you in slight confusion “they stemmed from me just wanting to have a piece of you still with me, something that i remembered, that reminded me of you… the thorns, the ones you have on your rose.” in explaining, you feel bold enough to touch the inked rose on his right hand, grazing your fingers over the thorns

suguru can hardly conceal his feelings. “i missed you.” geto states. his dark, sleek eyes told you how he burned for you.

“i missed you too suguru.” you whisper. your feelings flood your body, making you tingly- his intensity holds you in place. you’re both focussed on one another, suguru begins to smile feeling the warmth of your fingers touching him so delicately.

"lets continue your tattoo, i don't wanna fuck it up" suguru states, slowly bringing his hand away from your touch, even though he wanted nothing more than to let you touch him all over. to feel how those pretty acrylics, decorated in bows and charms along his skin, but he didn't want to mess this up, he wanted to tattoo you perfectly.

"okay" you respond, almost dissapointedly. wanting to feel him under your fingertips. you'd settle for now to feel his hands on your thighs, holding them to get his angles right, you were beginning to realise that you wanted more than just to stroke his hand. you want him to mark you all over, with more than just his needle gun.

"you've gotta try and stay still for me yn, i know it hurts, but it'll be over soon" suguru soothed, as his eyes narrowed around the curves of your thighs, the way they flexed and trembled slightly as you whimpered due to the numbed pain.

"okay... can i hold onto you?" you ask. he responds with a nod. you grip his arm, wanting to feel tethered- you don't remember him being so well-built, his biceps feel thick and powerful, almost hard to the touch as he flexes per his movements.

...

you're now a few hours into the tattoo, suguru’s taking his time, to add such beautiful details. the tension between the two of you is palpable, but the air is no longer filled with animosity, but rather intimacy. knowing you though, and how impatient you are suguru already sees it coming when you-

"sug i'm fucking borreeddd" the numbing cream obviously doing its job to reduce the pain to something dismissible, suguru chuckles finding your impatience so familial and adorable.

"it's barely been two hours" suguru forever sassy, remarks, rolling his eyes at ur moodiness. "now stay still, you're messin up my work." suguru states, you huff and bite your tongue, as you don’t want to fuck up his flow, you already know he works best when he’s zoned-in on a task.

you decide to catch up with him, your curiosity building, you've both missed so much from each other's lives. "i like your parlour. i would've bet money you'd turn your art into tattoos, you were too talented to let your art hide in your sketches"

suguru smiles again, "yeah? it was either this or burning down the town", he jokes and makes you both laugh, due to the absurdity. however, you both knew, there was some truth to it, which honestly added to your laughs

"right, of course committing arson, and potential mass murder is an obvious alternative." you sarcastically quip

"what you don't agree, i know you're not much better at keeping your chaos in check," he teases, his eyes locking onto yours.

you feel yourself flush, feeling seen- so you try staying on track to your original plan to catch up with him, "when did you open this place?"

"well actually gojo was the one who invested in my passion"

"that's so sweet"

"yeah, he's a fucking asshole, always all up in my business," he remarks, with a small smile, feigning annoyance. you can feel the fondness behind his words.

you notice how suguru smiles, how he teases, just like he used to, & still has that assertive and confident allure to him, that natural dominance and assuredness in himself, that he almost lost. your conversation with one another continued, bantering off one another. you make each other laugh and snicker and your heart can’t help but swell.

...

your feelings for him set aflame once again. this time with a ferocity you could barely contain. only heightened by the dull pain that he controlled with his needle, marking you so prettily. the assured control suguru had over your body was so seductive, it made places other than your tatted thigh, start to ache, start to ache so badly.

finally, geto lays the finishing touches on your tattoo, clearing up the intricate lines, adding shadings and highlights, and then wiping over the tattoo.

"okay, it's done. you can go check it in the mirror, let me know if you hate it." geto keeping his gaze low somewhat anxious to see your reaction.

as you approach the full-body mirror attached to the opposite wall, you couldn't possibly understand his apprehension because when you lay eyes on your tattoo, you are completely awestruck. you fall completely in love with his markings, the way the thorns pierce through the heart and sliver down your left hip, and thigh, wrapping them gorgeously.

you are lost for words, your lips part with a gasp, and when you bring your eyes up onto suguru through the mirror, you see how he watches you. following from your thighs decorated in his work, marking your body so seductively. then he focuses on how your dress is bunched up on those hips, those hips he’s held, and soothed over for hours today, but his mind wanders... reminiscing about all those times he used to handle and caress all over your plump thighs. how he would mould your body any way he pleased.

he watched as you held the undone ties of your pretty bikini bottoms, it made him salivate. his eyes cast over your dress- the way it hugged your body so exquisitely, propping up your boobs so prettily. the way your butt peaks out of the bunched-up dress, and how your breathing picked up, flustered from his heated gaze.

"i love it sug." you whisper softly.

"yeah?" he smirks. growing bolder, he walks up to you, and you don’t dare avert your eyes from his, through the mirror. you love the way his top hugs his thick muscular shoulders. his broad upper back being so beautifully emphasised, and how his sculpted chest has his nipple piercings teasing through his top. you salivate at his slim waist. ugh he's such a slut. you love the way his body is perfectly decorated in his art, marking his skin; and adorning his arms, and his neck, which is wrapped with a chain, you remember gifting him.

when he reaches you, he has to crouch down, flexing his strong thighs and calves hidden under his baggy bottoms, but you still have to look up at him to maintain eye contact, which he demands with his own. suguru holds the bottom of your thigh just under where the tattoo ends.

"how does it feel?" he whispers into your ear, his sharp gaze still honed on you

you whimper faintly because of the dull sting and ache from the tat

"a little sore sug, but it feels good, i really like it." you say softly while you lean into him, wanting to be wrapped in his body, his warmth.

he smiles at your admission "that's good yn, i'm going to wrap it up now, don't want it getting infected." you love the way he says your name, the way he purrs, your name rolls off his tongue so tenderly.

as he wraps the tattoo you wince, he immediately soothes you, "i've got you baby, it's okay." your body relaxes in response. your eyes never leave each other. as the tension shifts you feel enthralled, wanting him to touch you all over.

"yn, do you want me to play with you?" suguru asks, having that condescending tone that never failed to make you falter. you almost shy away, but he holds your face, bringing his hand up under your chin, his fingers grip your cheeks slightly, making you look directly at him “i want to play with you, i want to help you forgive me baby...” he whispers into your ear. your breath becoming more uneven and flustered from his proximity, that you can practically taste his aroma, how he mixes his scents of minty, smoky notes and cinnamon, woody undertones - it intoxicates you.

“…do you want me to?”

geto waits for your response, not daring to touch you the way he wants, without knowing you’re aching for it. and you want nothing more than that, for him to take care of you how he once did, oh how you wanted to see if he still remembered how to make you cum so blissfully. you nod giving out a soft “please”.

suguru kisses the side of your head, sprinkling kisses down your face making you giggle and fawn, till he reaches your neck and you lose your breath. geto finds the sensitive parts on your neck, making you feel so tingly, it's almost ticklish. you almost forgot how much you loved when suguru kissed and licked across your neck, how he would bite and suckle, leaving you all marked up just how he liked. god he’d go fucking crazy for it too. to hear you whine and pant below him as he licked and sucked. it sent tingles all over your body, straight to your clit. you shuddered under him, leaning onto him- to give him better access to mark you. slowly he grips your hips grinding his bulge into you, he even bends you forward a little so that you can feel him, how hard he is for you- humping into you over your clothed body.

geto held you at an angle arched while both of you stood in front of the mirror so that he could have you grind right back onto his dick that was growing so achingly hard for you. the way he moved your bodies together was so disgustingly sensual, you had to look away moaning as you felt his clothed dick thrust into you, giving you that sensation you so craved. you were whining, you felt so depraved like you hadn’t been touched like this in so long- you just wanted him to rip you the fuck open.

“mmm nah baby look at yourself in the mirror…” he demanded, to which you stubbornly ignored, forcing suguru to grab your face so that you could look at how pathetically you had come undone for him, just from his dry humping. “… i said fucking look at yourself, mmm? you lost your manners baby?” he teases knowing exactly how to fix your attitude. he ends his command by giving your thigh (without the tattoo) a firm slap, making you cry out, you quickly try stifling it, remembering you’re still in his fucking workspace.

“you’re so mean” you whine and pout up at him, which makes him chuckle at you, his smirk unfurling so lewdly.

“i’m going to make it up to you mmm? you’ll let me make you feel good baby? gotta apologise for making my baby upset.” the way he talks to you feigning that concern, his fucking tone, makes you feel weak, and pliant for him. as you move your legs a little wider, and let go of your tied bikini bottoms so they hang down barely concealing a thing. geto watches how strings of your arousal are built up, clinging onto your pretty bottoms. showing him just how wet you are for him and you push your butt into him even more, nodding your head in invitation for him to remedy all the mess he’s made.

as suguru brings his rose-covered hand down to your aching pussy ready to soothe it. once he touches her, feeling your glistening folds, he hisses as his eyes glaze over, and lower so seductively. you see the way his hand flexes and his veins protrude. his long, adept fingers dip further, caressing and rubbing against your hard little clit. he can feel it pulse for him, making you whine as suguru increases the pressure of his fingers on your clit. circling around your throbbing bundle of nerves. his fingers collect the slick past your lips, down to your spasming, weeping hole, and brings them back to your needy nub.

his tight circles, pet your pretty clit so well, turning you into a mewling mess, you can’t help but move against and around his fingers, acting so bratty- but suguru couldn't give a shit, he'll mould you right where he needs you again holding you by your neck and continuing his strokes on that clit regardless of how you whine.

"sug- aaa-" such a petulant whine leaves your supple lips, begging for him to go further into your leaking hole, you needed him to be inside you, having your pussy drool on his pretty, tatted fingers.

"i know baby, you need it don't you? you need me to fuck you open mmm?" suguru whispers in your ear, kissing the outside of your earlobe so delicately, while saying such filthy things. you look at him through the mirror nodding your head so pathetically, and why would he deny you, his baby? nah never...

suguru brings his finger back down to your desperate hole. he eases around your pussy going around the edges of her, only dipping the tip of his finger. you can't take his teasing-

"sugu! stop teasin-" suguru immediately interrupts, plunging his fingers into you, making you gasp. he slipped into your soppy pussy giving off that mind-numbing squelching sound, having your pussy suck his fingers in so snuggly, has you moaning wantonly. the way suguru’s digits fill you, he’s able to add a finger, scissoring two fingers into your weeping cunt, the way he pushes in and curls his fingers to rub against your plush walls it has you mewling. as you feel him find and rub against that spot, that perfect spongey spot so easily, your eyes roll back. suguru was losing his mind, he rasped a soft moan right into your ear, he loved watching you buck on his fingers, the way you moaned and struggled to take him, it made him itch and drool to have you.

his fingers in your pussy stroking and pumping into your soft, wet pussy. his hand around your neck holding your face up to keep your eyes on everything he was doing. his deep, velvety voice right by your ear, whispering, and moaning sweet nothings. you were losing your fucking mind, you almost couldn't handle it.

"aaa- nngg, sug- sug!," you moaned shamelessly "f-ohfuck i can't-"

"sshh baby, tf you think you're doing mmm, whining like that in my office?" suguru whispers chastising you. your eyes look up at him, and the way you looked so doe-eyed, so pathetic- barely able to hold in your moans, gripped him.

"you struggling to take it for me baby, want me stop?" geto taunts, but you instantly shake your head needing him all over you.

“no please don’t stop sug”

"you can take what i give you princess?"

"i need you uhahh" you wanted him to have you however he pleased.

the way he moves has you humping and panting, you wine on him trying to get some friction against your slutty little cunt.

your moans grow louder and the pitch of your whines grow higher- you suck on your pretty fingers to try and get yourself quiet, your eyes glazing over as you watch suguru fuck you so good with his fingers and his hard bulge pushing up into you. the way he licks and bites all over your neck leaving a trail of his marks. suguru still never averts his dark eyes from yours. the purple glints in his eyes kind of sparkle in your head. all of it is bringing you right to the edge. your eyes roll back, your thighs shake, your knees buckle from the pleasure. so pliant and easy for him to manoeuvre you so he can hold you up and fuck you in just the right angles he needs, that he demands.

“fuckfuckfuc- aahh ohhhh sugie. daddy oh mmynghh” you whine and cry, your head lolling onto his shoulder.

right on the precipice of your orgasm, suguru watches how you get so close to cumming, he’s fucking salivating seeing how you become so undone, how you’ve gone fucking dumb on just his fingers, he can’t help but moan and groan right with you.

“mmm mmfuck, mine. mine.” he purrs, licking all up on you

but all too soon, it comes to a halt, and your orgasm gets snatched away from you. suguru wickedly decides to take his fingers out of you. you almost cry

“wha- no suguru fuck no don’t stop, mmmmnoo” you whine so pathetically gripping his arm, it’s fucking laughable trying to keep his fingers right where you needed them, gripping his sculpted arms so hard. your hands… the size difference makes him smile. no not smile, he’s fucking smirking. that little shit.

“fuck you, SUG HMPH!” you practically stomp your feet, pushing him away as you’re about to walk away, but of course suguru grips you against him, pulling you back so close, you are still as stubborn as ever refusing to look at him, while you’re face to face, which makes him snicker. he isn’t having any of that bullshit tho, he grabs your chin and cheeks squeezing as a warning. he pulls your face up to him again and kisses you on your forehead, the side of your head, and your cheek, and then he ghosts his plump, nude lips over your lips.

“if i decide you don’t get to cum on my fingers, you won’t. i don’t fucking care how close you are.” suguru states, locking his eyes with yours so intensely, while his lips and breath feel so close to your own, you almost feel faint. you want nothing more than for him to just kiss you, you want to feel his lips again, oh how you miss how soft they were, how you loved the taste of his mouth, the taste of the mint with his own unique feel.

suguru’s eyes flutter down to look at your lips so lushly plump and glossed he can’t help but lick his lips. he wants nothing more than to mess up your brown and pink lip combo. to bite, suck and lick all over you.

“tell me you understand.”

“i understand daddy, m’sorry i threw a tantrum, i just wanted to cum on your fingers so bad-”

suguru smiles feeling fucking delighted from your admission

“-can you please kiss me, i promise i’ll behave sugie” you whisper almost whining at the end, you rub your thighs together feeling how you made such a mess for him, as your slick trickles down your thighs.

suguru feeling so pleased with you, groans into your mouth, once your lips touch. he almost forgot how much he missed this. how much he missed you, your lips, those soft lips that melted against his. he loved the way you gasped and whined from your slow kiss, so sensual and intimate. but he knew you were such an impatient brat, his impatient princess.

demanding more, you lace your hands into his hair. you adored his long, luscious hair so much, (that you remember countless times joking about shaving it off at night and turning it into a wig. those playful moments would always have you both bickering and laughing together. it makes your heart swell remembering this).

you begged for more by stroking and tugging at the nape of his hair, making his body tingle, as suguru moaned into your kiss. he licked on your lips to get you to open up for him. he loves the way you whine and moan from frustration and neediness while running your fingers through his hair, it made him lose his fucking mind, so, of course, he had to express that by nipping at your bottom lip. his bite made you whimper and grind up against him but it wasn’t enough. you needed more. you wanted more. but suguru leads the kiss to hold that slow, deep and sensual pace, having your tongues dance together, lick against each other unhurried. which was mind-blowing but also so frustrating you wanted to just devour him, you couldn't get enough.

you moaned into his mouth as suguru sucked on your bottom lip, and then went back to your tongue, licking against each other. he spat in your mouth briefly separating your mouths from one another, and immediately resuming the kiss. at this, you snapped. whining wantonly, you gripped onto him and stubbornly clambered onto him so your legs wrapped around his waist. suguru was easily able to carry you. you were determined to make him fuck you.

“daddy” you whisper, opening your eyes to pout up at him.

“yes baby?” suguru answers, giving little kisses along your chin down to your neck. sucking onto your sensitive neck areas, he knew just the right spots to make you lose your fucking mind.

“i want you to fuck me…” you say grinding down onto the bulge you could feel through his sweats. you were sure you could feel a wet spot on them, but you weren’t quite sure of the culprit, as your wet pussy dragged and humped on his dick print leaking with pre-cum. you could feel his throbbing dick just aching to be inside you, pumping you full of his cum. suguru hissed from the feeling of your mess teasing his aching cock.

“… please baby, please fuck me again, i said i’d be good” you whined, moving closer to his ears so only he could hear how desperate you were for him. suguru moans, his voice breaks and rasps a little from you grinding on him and circling over his dick.

suguru fucking snaps, he closes his eyes while his mouth slightly hangs open, just taking in how your hips wined on him while he carried you.

he then cupped your face to him, “you’re such a fucking brat.” he moans, holding your face and caressing your throat, he watches how your breathing picks up, as you get so flustered. he brings you close, kissing you on your forearm, bringing his hand around your neck. then he carries you to his tattoo bed.

“i am not going to fuck you yn-.”

“-but su!” you begin to whine interrupting him

“be quiet.” suguru reprimands, gripping your neck just a little tighter after placing you to sit on the edge of the seat “i’m not gonna fuck you on my dick. when i have you like that, it’s gonna be on my bed, where i can have you screaming on it without any fucking interruptions. do whatever the fuck i wanna do without you getting all shy on me tryna muffle those pretty moans from me mmm, you understand baby?”

“yeah daddy” you answer feeling so giddy and light with him

“there’s my princess,” he smirks, “you’re really that fucking needy, want my dick here, right where my colleagues are downstairs mmm?” he says before kissing you again. “good girl” he praises while lifting off your dress and quickly bringing his lips back onto yours. slowly he brings you to lay back. he gets in between your thighs lifting one up over his shoulder while letting your tatted thigh rest over the edge of the bed. from this angle he could see your pretty glistening pussy, clenching around nothing.

“lay back baby.” he instructs, he sees how you wait in anticipation for him laying back on the bed.

he crouches down, kneeling in front of your exposed pussy, your slick brown lips he’s completely hypnotised by, they glisten from your wetness. you grow a little shy, you weren’t prepared to be eaten out today (૮꒰⸝⸝> <⸝⸝꒱ა). you bring down your hands to try and cover her up, feeling a little embarrassed.

suguru immediately dismissing your nonsense, and swats your hand away bringing them to instead hold your plush thighs “don’t piss me off today yn, it’s fucking mine.” you almost squeal in response to suguru, he gets so intense sometimes.

suguru is completely enchanted by your scent, the way your hole quivers and weeps for him he has to have a taste. keeping his eyes on you suguru takes the time to separate your folds with his fingers, he licks your swollen nub revelling in the way you gasp and twitch from the sensation, you feel so sensitive from the way his fingers had you shacking.

he then delves in, lapping and sucking on your bud making you writhe and moan from pleasure. the movement of his tongue has such an effect on your pussy, it's marvelling. he takes his time, really getting you sensitive, flattening his tongue on your clit and then straightening it to add pressure, circling perfectly around your bundle of nerves, it makes you gasp and arch your back so prettily

“fuck! sug-daddy aaaahhh” you release a raspy cry, gripping his hair and pulling him into you to, so you can grind on his face, which makes him moan into you, muffling a-

“fuck baby” into your wet pussy, he has to hold your hips down as you begin moving around too much for him to control, so he holds your thigh and places his other arm on your hip, pushing you down, so you stay fucking still for him to play with you properly. suguru brings his tongue down to your leaking hole, thrusting his pointed tongue into your pussy making you mewl and cover your mouth to stop yourself from squealing.

the way you’re panting and moaning, suguru can tell you're going dumb for him, aching to cum all over him. he takes his mouth off of you as your moans get higher. you whine from the absence of his tongue on your needy pussy but he makes up for it by spitting on her, letting his spit slide onto your sensitive cunt. the way his spit glistens and slides down your pussy, he pushes it back into your hole, thrusting his fingers and spit back into you. you react by clutching your thighs together from the sensitivity which makes suguru look at you sharply.

“open.”

you whine, separating your thighs, so he can dip his head back down onto your clit which makes you shudder, bucking your hips into his face. he continues thrusting his fingers into you while his tongue plays and toys with your sore little clit. you can feel everything, it's all so much, your eyes roll back as your mouth hangs open letting out a broken moan while you tug at suguru’s hair.

the way his fingers scissor your folds open, cunt drooling and sucking him in greedily, while he laps and lightly nips on your clit letting his spit drool on you, just for him to suck on your juices. he eats so sloppily it has your eyes watering.

“s’good sug—so fuckin’ good,” hips grinding into the movement of his lengthy fingers, chasing that ecstasy knotting in the pits of your stomach, you’re so close you start seeing white, suguru knows you’re about to cum from the way your fingers tangle and tug at his hair, struggling to either push him closer or away from you. his dark piercing gaze never leaves your face.

“daddy m’gonna cum! shit hah aa sug please lemme cum oh please” you sob, which makes suguru groan into your pussy. feeling the way your hole clenches around his fingers, leaking out so much wetness. the way your hard clit throbs for him, your juices covering, adorning his beautiful face, he looks so pussy drunk. the only thing on his mind is making you cum all over him.

“mmm baby, you gonna cum for me.. that’s my good fucking girl” he says pumping his fingers into you while moving his other hand to circle your clit in tight circles, so he can talk you through your orgasm.

“oh fuck daddy! oh my godnngh” your hands immediately grip suguru’s hands as you squeal and moan wantonly. your body arches and bucks as you dig your nails into him leaving little crescents on his skin. your vision dots, as your body tenses, lips parting into a silent scream as your release flies through you, wetting the tattoo bed. suguru watches your cream flow beneath you, all over his mouth. he pushes your juices back into your leaking hole, drooling at the way your hole squelches.

“there’s my good girl, oh you did so good baby mmmm” he praises lapping at your excess juices spilling down, you’re so fucking sensitive it hurts

“sug-ahh it hurts, fuckk” you whine, purring up at him as you watch suguru’s desire envelop you, you can tell he’s not done with you, but you doubt you could even take anymore.

suguru slithers up to you, kissing and licking up your boobs, making you squirm. when he reaches you he holds your face so gently, mere inches away from you.

“you forgive me baby?” suguru whispers gently stroking his nose against yours, almost purring against you like a cat “mmmm?” he purrs stroking the side of your face and caressing your limp exhausted body. you feel so warm against him, so lewd and yet so protected.

“i forgive you, you’re such an asshole” you giggle feeling a little shy again, only suguru was able to make you shy, and flush so easily. suguru whispers back a thank you and captures your lips into a searing kiss, melting you both together so passionately. you clutch onto the nape of his neck and run your fingers through his hair, earning you a moan, as suguru’s tongue dances with yours sensually. he grips your hips, pulling you against him. you can feel his bulge pulsing for you-

“suguru, aye we’re back! and u’ve got another appointment waiting!” you both hear from downstairs at the reception, shoko calling out to suguru followed by gojo following suit making a ruckus, throwing a tantrum about his arm

“dudeee, where tf r u? i coulda died!” gojo shouts out. you can hear him coming up the stairs to suguru’s office

“mmm fuck suguru, they’re coming up” you gasp up to suguru who still refuses to take notice of them. he smirks, choosing to still feel all up on you

“mmmm don’t care c’mere” suguru states, you roll your eyes

“suguruuu c’mon” you smirk, pushing against him

“ugghh for fucksake” suguru huffs moving off of you, taking your hand and pulling you up to him making you yelp with excitement. you both come to your senses though when you hear gojo’s footsteps up the stairs getting close, both of you scrambling to put your dress back on and get you both presentable.

suguru then holds your chin, so you both look at each other

“what?” you nervously laugh at his intense look

“let me take you out yn? i’ve missed you so much baby” suguru pleads while stroking the side of your cheek with his thumb

“mmmm i dunno sug, dependdss on where you’re gonna take me” you smirk up at him

“let me worry about that baby, i wanna treat you, try and make it up to you” suguru implores and then kisses your forehead just as gojo barges in-

“sUgUruUuu!!”

♡ ༺｡° .ᘛ𓆩♡𓆪ᘚ. ° ｡༻

[tw1l1te]

The Final Promise₊˚✩⊹

Chapter 4

Linked Universe x reader

Warnings: Mentions of mental health and depression, angst, fluff

₊˚✩⊹

Two days have passed since you left Castle Town, you and the chain just crossing the threshold of Hyrule Field, but not quite in Gerudo Valley.

The terrain was still slightly grassy, though the grass itself was yellowing, the land being very dry. The sun has long set, so you anticipated settling down soon, as you could feel the energy shift that has happened in the past couple days. Everyone was tired.

“Let’s setup camp under that large tree. Wild, why don’t you and the traveler start setting up dinner. The Captain and I can do a quick scout to see any possible encampments near us or any danger we need to be aware of. We should be back before dinner.” Time announced, motioning Wars to follow him.

You asked around the group seeing if there was anything you could assist with, but no one seemed to need anything for the moment. With a sigh, you propped yourself up against the tree and opened up the book Shad gave you. You might as well be productive.

Flipping through the book, there wasn’t much that related to your quest. Sure, some interesting tidbits about Hylian history and wars, but nothing of note. You halted your flipping at the page labeled: Other Worldly History: Ancient Runes and Magic. 

Bingo.

Hyrule has been known to be a connection between various cultures, nations, and worlds. From the beginning, Hyrule contained loopholes and magic that could alter worlds, change the flow of time, and access completely disconnected dimensions. Nobody has successfully accessed said dimensions, but there are plenty of theories and magical concepts that support the possibility of accessing them.

A particular religious group, according to rumors and first-person accounts, have been seen performing rituals and dark magic that provides a window to a dimension. Though the group itself has no name or distinguishable faces or names, a few colleagues have been able to record the rituals and notes on how their procedures work.

You continued skimming the page, the author noting the black garb that the members wore and possible translations of the language. Everything was up in the air though. Flipping the page, you notice that there are diagrams on how the rituals are performed and how you could access “Hylia’s Mirror” through a very complex and specific execution of moments and chants. 

The ritual began with placing your palms on the ground, or as the book liked to call it: “Connecting to Hylia’s body”. Weird.

You closed your eyes and lifted your palms, pointing out two fingers and drawing a large triangle around you, all sides and angles congruent.

You opened your eyes and tried to follow along with the specified hand signals, but you messed up halfway through. This was gonna be harder than you thought.

The smell of dinner was tantalizing, so you shut the book and placed it in your pack, deciding to play wizard again later once you've eaten. You don’t think you’ve eaten since you left Castle Town, as you all didn’t really stop walking unless taking a few hours to sleep.

You plopped down beside Four, leaning against him. He was sharpening one of his shorter blades, no doubt it being overused the past few weeks in close combat.

“Saw you playing wizard over there. Anything helpful?” he asked, eyes not leaving the blade.

You hummed. “Some dark magic stuff, lotta weird shit. I was too hungry to actually understand anything,” you said, looking at how Four’s fingers held the blade and handled it. 

“I would help you, but I'm considered useless in the reading aspect. Can barely read signs if I'm honest. Only know the basics.” he said, stopping his sharpening and placing the blade back into its holster. 

You were about to mention something about his comment when Wild called out to dinner, just in time for Wars and Time to return. 

“Y/n over ‘ere was being magical and doing magic spells,” Twilight chuckled, gesturing at you “Chantin’ some gibberish, I tell ya.” he laughed, you rolling your eyes in response. 

“Yeah, yeah. Mock all you want, but at least I’m getting somewhere. I think?” you paused. 

“We can leave the demonology till later, let’s eat. I know you guys are starving, and I made heaps of food for tonight.” Wild smiled, handing out bowls to everyone. Does he carry a whole fucking kitchen on him?

~

“Who’s game did you play first, Y/n?” Wind asked, mouthful of food.

You pondered for a second, having to recollect your memories.

“Ummmm…. I think it was Skyward Sword, so Sky’s yeah. I think I was like 8 or 9.” you said, taking in another spoonful of rice. 

“I miss being a kid, at times. I remember not having to worry about anything, just when I was going to play with my friends or what flavor of cake I was going to get for my birthday. Getting older changes you, for the better or worse, I honestly don’t know.” You said, looking over at everyone.

“I feel like i’ve gotten older faster since I first joined you guys, in a sense. I can’t really explain it. I guess adventuring, or rather being a hero forces you to grow up faster…” You trail off, looking at the fire.

Time pipes up “I agree with that, as I first left the forest when I was seven. The hero’s duty seemed inevitable, regardless if I postponed it or not.”

Wind nods, “I had to leave Grandma when I was 12, to save my sister Aryll. Even when I defeated Ganondorf and returned home, it didn’t feel the same… I wasn’t a kid anymore.”

You scootch up to him, letting him lean against your side. “I know I can’t change your past, Wind, but I just want you to know that I was there with you for every step of the way. Every nick or scratch you got, I made sure you were not alone. I’ll never leave you alone, any of you, whether or not I’m physically here with you or not. You’ll always feel me with you, in here,” You point at his chest. 

Wind sighs sadly, “I love you Y/n.”

You sigh in contentment, “I love you too, squirt. You’ve always been like a little brother to me.”

“Call me squirt again and I’ll shank you in your sleep~” Wind said in a sing-song voice, but you knew he held no malice. You just chuckled at his “threat”.

“It’s so strange to me how we all felt you there with us, Y/n. Even if we didn’t hear you most of the time, you always gave us warmth.” Wild said.

“You guys gave me warmth too, and were there for me in my darkest days. Even just accompanying you for a few hours a day made me feel less alone,” you looked Wild “Even when I felt abandoned, I know you guys wouldn’t leave me.”

“13-year-old me would be so happy if she knew she was talking to her favorite heroes. She needed that. I needed that.” you said, combing through Wind’s sandy hair.

Legend frowned at your comment. 

By the implication of your tone and words, it seems like your early teens weren’t joyful or memorable. You needed them. You needed him. He wished he could’ve heard you back then. It seemed like some of the others could hear you better during their journey, but he only heard you a few times. And from what he remembers, most of them weren’t happy. 

He was also one of the last members of the group to recognize you. He only remembered you about 4 or so months ago. His past had clouded him and his mind, leaving him as leftovers.

Leftovers of Hylia’s game. He hated that damned goddess. A fraud. A parasite across each and every era. He had nothing to thank her for. Nothing besides… you. Simple, yet irreplaceable you. Millions of people had seen his quest and lead him through it, but you were an outlier. A special one. His guide. 

Marin was a memory at this point. Not even a dream, like he thought she was. She was a distraction… a replacement. A replacement for you. Kind, smart, perfect you.

₊˚✩⊹

[blackcherryvelvet0909]

Shadowed Ripples (Deuce x GN!Reader)

Content Warning: Mild violence (brief fistfight), mild hurt/comfort

“That’s a big ass fish!” Ace declared as he stared up into the large tank. 

There was, indeed, a very big fish that swam by. You glanced over at the small info cards that decorated the sides of the display tank. “I think that’s a sturgeon.” 

“What other fish could be that big?” Epel asked. 

“Various creatures trump the size of a sturgeon.” You glanced over your shoulder to see Sebek approach your little group from behind. “Whales, sharks, crocodiles, squids.” Sebek crossed his arms as a brash smirk twitched at his lips. “You humans would know such things if you cared to read.”

“Would’cha quit with that better than thou shit?” Epel cut back at Sebek. “Take that ‘humans er better than fae’ crap and shove it up yur-!” 

“Epel!” Epel winced at the sound of Vil’s harsh tone, his head snapping in that direction. There Vil stood at the tank three paces away, the one that held a series of colorful jellyfish. His eyes were so sharp they could cut glass - even you gave a shiver. You and Epel both meekly turned your heads away, though Epel’s was followed by a grumble of words you couldn’t discern. 

“What do you want to see next?” Deuce stepped over to your side, hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket. It was the one he often wore while he was out riding his magical wheel - the leather was resilient to water, which was why he wore it today. No rain would dampen this aquarium trip. He smiled down at you as he patiently waited for your answer, his cyan eyes catching the light from the tanks. They looked pretty…

“I saw a sign outside advertising manta rays,” you said. “They have tanks shallow enough for you to pet them; I want to try that!” 

“That baby stuff?” Ace laughed. “What’re you, four?” 

“Ace, shut up.” Deuce huffed before he turned back to you. “Let’s go find out where they are, [Y/n].”

“You babies have fun,” Ace chuckled as he waved you off. “Me and Epel are gonna go look at some actual cool shit.” 

“Like the anaconda that scared the piss outta ya when it came down from its branch?” Epel snickered. 

“Shut up, dude!” 

You let out your own chuckle as Ace was reprimanded for his raise of voice by Trein. That was the last you saw of Ace as you and Deuce separated from the group and turned into the hall that led to the other part of the aquarium. 

***

“There they are!” Deuce pointed towards the little shallow tank of water in the center of a room in the distance. Sure enough, there were the manta rays you’d been searching for. Your smile widened as you and Deuce walked over to the open pool of water, so clear it almost sparkled in the lighting. You were about to reach out and touch one, but you were compelled to glance over at Deuce. He gave a nod as he said, “Go ahead! I’m just going to take off my jacket real quick.” 

You gave a nod in return before you went about your fun. You dipped your hand into the cool water and reached out to one of the little manta rays swimming about. When your fingertips grazed its back, you gasped: It was slippery! A little slimy, too, but not in a gross way. It felt a bit like lip gloss, maybe nail polish. You didn’t linger on the thought too long - you were too preoccupied with petting the little creatures. 

Deuce came to stand beside you a minute later. After a glance at the tank attendant, his hand slipped into the water close to yours. The smallest of giggles left his lips as his fingers touched a manta ray’s back; you couldn’t help but think how cute the sound was. As the two of you continued petting the rays, you asked Deuce, “Have you ever been to an aquarium before?” 

“A few times,” he replied. “My mom worked at one for a while when I was little. She would get discounts on tickets, so she’d bring me there on the weekends when she was able.” He glanced at you as he recalled the memories. “We didn’t have a lot of money back then, so I only went twice, maybe three times. Still, I’m happy I got to experience that with her - and now with you.” 

Your heart fluttered at that last part. Deuce seemed genuinely joyful at the fact he got to come here with you and your friends. Sure, this was part of the school trip, but…it felt special when he put it like that. You smiled back at him as you nodded, “I’m glad, too.” 

Just then, your hands accidentally brushed. Deuce let out a small gasp and yanked his away and out of the water, sending a few droplets splattering to the ground. “Sorry!” he blurted out. 

“Sir, please keep your voice down,” said the tank attendant. 

“S-Sorry, ma’am,” Deuce uttered, clearly embarrassed. 

You couldn’t help but chuckle at his reaction; Deuce could really be adorable at times. You took your hand out of the water and shook it a little to dry it. “It’s okay, Deuce. It’s not like it hurt or anything.” 

Deuce simply nodded his head meekly. It was just a touch, no big deal. Why was he so flustered? Before you could ask, Deuce grabbed a few paper towels from the dispenser at the corner of the tank. He walked back over and handed you a few. You took them with a ‘thank you’ as you began to dry your hands. As you looked around the room, then back to Deuce, your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. 

“Deuce, where did you put your jacket?” 

“Hm?” Deuce perked up at your question. “Oh, over there.” He pointed at the bench behind him - but there was no jacket. A look of panic crossed his face as he glanced around the room. As you’d noticed before, his leather jacket was nowhere in sight. Deuce jogged over to the tank attendant, and in the most polite, yet rushed way asked, “Excuse me, ma’am? Have you seen a leather jacket anywhere? I put mine on that bench over there.” 

“Leather jacket?” The woman thought for a moment, then she seemed to remember something. “Oh, yes, I saw it there a moment ago. I…I believe someone grabbed it.” 

“Who did?” Deuce glanced around the room to try and find the person in question. 

“A boy around your age,” she replied. “They just left.” 

Deuce quickly thanked the woman before he sprinted out of the room, muttering apologies to the people he passed by in a hurry. You haphazardly tossed your paper towels in the trash can before you took off after him. 

***

You finally caught up to Deuce outside the aquarium, where a few picnic tables were scattered about. It looked like a small garden set aside for people to eat in. Three guys sat on one of the tables, the middle wearing a very familiar jacket. Deuce was already in front of them, voice calm and level, yet by his body language you saw he was irritated. “Excuse me,” he said, “that’s mine.” 

“Huh?” The young man turned his head to look down at Deuce. He was around the same height, but he had the high ground from where he stood on the table. “This one?” He opened the leather jacket and did a little spin, then gave Deuce a grin - one an asshole would give. “Sorry, man, finder’s keepers~ If you wanted to keep it so bad, you shouldn’t have left it.” 

“I took it off so I wouldn’t get it in the water.” You could tell Deuce was trying to keep it together. “It was right behind me on the bench, where I left it. You didn’t think to ask if it belonged to anyone?” 

“Why?” The boy smirked as his words were lined with a faint chuckle. “As I said, if you wanted to keep it so bad, you should have left it on - maybe tied it around your waist. You just abandoned it there - sounds to me like someone who doesn’t care for it.” 

“My mom gave me that jacket.” You’d forgotten about that. You watched as Deuce’s hands slowly balled into fists. “I do care about it.” 

“Aww, your mommy gave it to you?~” The man and his buddies let out a small bit of laughter as the leader mocked him. “Well, then mommy’s little boy should take better care of his things.”

“Look, man,” Deuce’s voice grew more angry by the minute, “just give it back.” He held out his hand. “We’ll forget all about it if you do. I don’t want things to get ugly.” 

“Ugly?” The guy laughed. “What’re you gonna do, huh? I could snap you like a twig!” 

“Would you just give it back?!” you piped up, equally as angry as you marched up to the picnic table. As you approached, you noticed something about the boy: on his shirt was pinned an RSA pendant. He was a Royal Sword student? And he acted like this?! Guess the school wasn’t full of ‘goody two shoes’, as Ace once told you. They had their own share of assholes. 

You decided to try and use that newfound knowledge to your advantage. “Do you really need us to get your headmaster involved? I’ll go get him myself!” 

“Oh really?” The guy jumped down the table and stepped in front of you. “Who do you think he’s gonna believe, huh? Us, three of his most beloved students, or,” he grabbed your collar and yanked you forward, “some snot nosed NRC-” 

He let go of your collar as he was suddenly yanked back and thrown to the ground. Deuce stood before him, face twisted in rage as he glared down at him. “Don’t touch them. Never touch them!” Deuce cracked his knuckles. “You wanna fight someone, you fight me.” 

“Hey!” One of the guy's friends stood up and grabbed Deuce’s shoulder. “Who do you think you-?!” 

That guy was shoved back onto the picnic bench. The third came up from behind and tried to punch Deuce, but Deuce ducked out of the way and delivered his own square to the guy’s nose. The student yelled out in pain as he, too, stumbled to the ground. The leader got back on his feet and charged at Deuce; unfortunately, he managed to hit him in the stomach. Though Deuce wobbled a few steps back and groaned in pain, he quickly regained himself. Swiftly, he grabbed the guy by the shirt, surely about to start beating him to a pulp - and then the double doors behind you swung open. 

***

You watched as the two headmages, Ambrosius and Crowley, shook hands, ending their conversation. You stood close by, nervous at what they’d agreed upon. When Crowley had stepped through the doors and broke up the fight, an argument ensued. The RSA students tried to accuse Deuce of attacking them because of their school, while you and Deuce explained that the boys had stolen Deuce’s jacket and refused to give it back. You also mentioned that the leader of the friend group had grabbed you by the collar, and that was the reason why Deuce attacked. Not long after, Ambrosius had arrived; apparently, another RSA student had heard the commotion and went to fetch him. Ever since then, the two had been in a discussion as to what to do with the boys. 

Your eyes landed on Deuce, who sat on a bench a small distance away. The three RSA students still sat at the picnic tables within the little garden, one of which now had a bruise forming on his face. The leather jacket was no longer on the lead’s person; as Crowley approached you, you saw it was now draped over his arm. “Would you please hold this?” he asked as he offered you the jacket. You nodded and took it without a word. Crowley then walked over to where Deuce sat, head hung low in shame. He’d been like that since he realized what he’d done - that he’d tapped into his delinquency again. 

Your heart sank as you watched Deuce look up at the headmage as he addressed him. You wished you could hear what they were saying. Deuce looked so disappointed in himself…so sad. He nodded along to whatever Crowley was saying; when the short conversation ended, you were able to read Deuce’s lips as he said, “Yes, sir. Thank you, Headmage.” The man laid a comforting hand on Deuce’s shoulder and patted it lightly before he walked off to dispel the small crowd of students that had gathered several feet away. You saw Ace, Epel, and Jack among them - you gave them a wave and a small, forced smile to try and ease their worried faces. 

In moments, you were at Deuce’s side, sat next to him on the bench. You glanced down at the leather jacket in your arms; thankfully, there was not a scratch on it. You offered the garment to Deuce with a little smile. “It’s not damaged. I’m happy you got it back.” 

Deuce’s cyan eyes flicked down to glimpse the jacket. He gently took it from your hands and put it on his lap. “Thanks…” he mumbled. 

A silence filled the space between you two for a few minutes. You watched as the students dispersed, most going back to their regularly scheduled activities. Your small group of friends, however, lingered at the entrance to the aquarium, likely waiting for you two to join them. Your gaze then landed on the garden space several feet away. You could barely make out the face of Ambrosius as he spoke to the boys - scolded them, most likely. To you, he looked like a disappointed father. For the way the boys’ postures drooped as he led them away, you were sure they got the lecture of a lifetime. You just hoped they wouldn’t try and come back for vengeance at some point. 

“Crowley said that he and Headmage Ambrosius believed us,” Deuce finally spoke. You turned your full attention to him as he continued. “He said this would be my only warning though…he told me to tell a staff member if something like that happened again.” 

“That’s good.” You gave your friend a comforting smile as you placed your hand over his. “I’m happy you didn’t get in trouble.”

“Yeah.” Deuce looked like a kicked puppy, a deep frown set upon his face as he stared down at his jacket. “But I still messed up. He’s right - I should have just gone to one of the professors for help. They would have helped me…I need to stop being a delinquent.” 

“You did nothing wrong, Deuce.” The pain in your heart mixed with anger as you thought back to the fight. “They picked a fight with you - you protected me. I would have done the same for you!” 

Deuce let out a small chuckle at your words. The tiny smile that tugged at his lips quelled your anger for the time being. He glanced in your direction as he spoke. “Thank you, [Y/n]. You…weren’t scared, were you?” 

“A little.” You gently squeezed his hand. “I was afraid of you getting hurt.” 

There was a glimmer of something in Deuce’s cyan orbs as he looked at you. His posture straightened as he scooted closer to you. His hand squeezed yours in return, a determination apparent in his voice as he began with, “[Y/n], I-” 

“Hey, Deuce!” Both your heads looked in the direction of Jack, who now stood halfway between your bench and the entrance of the aquarium. “Are you okay?” 

“Yeah, I’m fine, Jack.” Deuce suddenly appeared a little startled, but kept himself together. “Thanks for waiting on us.” 

“No problem.” Jack smiled as his tail wagged a little behind him. He gestured back at the others with a nod of his head as he said, “We’re ready when you are.”

“We’ll be there in a second.” Deuce waited for Jack to turn and begin walking away before he faced you again. “C’mon, we should go. We only have an hour left here.” 

“Yeah, we should.” You stood up from your seat on the bench, with Deuce quick to follow. Your smile grew as you saw Deuce slip back on his jacket. You glanced up at the sky - gray clouds still hung overhead. “I think the rain might start back up soon, too. It’s probably good to head back in.” 

“Mhm,” Deuce mumbled, rolling his shoulders as the jacket slipped over them. He spared a glimpse over towards the entrance of the building; Ace, Epel, and Jack were gone, likely somewhere in the lobby. That determination rose in his heart - if he was going to make a move, he better do it now. 

“By the way,” you lowered your gaze from the clouds back to Deuce, “what were you saying before-?” 

A pair of lips met the skin of your cheek. You sucked in a breath as you gasped, eyes blown wide at the sudden contact. Deuce leaned back to his full height as he pulled away, his handsome face meeting your vision. An equally attractive smile was stretched across it, pretty cyan eyes looking right into yours as Deuce asked you the thing that’d been on his mind since last night. “Do you want to have lunch with me after this?” 

Your heart pounded in your chest, blood rushed to your cheeks, your mind went nearly blank. Deuce, Deuce Spade, was he…asking you on a date? You slowly nodded your head as you let out a whispered, “Y-Yes.” 

Deuce seemed to sigh in relief, shoulders now lax, loose of tension. He gave a small nod of his own, but it seemed to be more of an assurance to himself - that he just asked you that and succeeded. If only you could hear how giddy his thoughts were then. He offered his hand to you, “Let’s go, then. We’ll go eat after we leave here.” 

Words were not possible to produce for you at the moment - you simply took his hand with a shaky smile and let him lead you onward. You barely registered the questions your friends asked you two, whether about the fight, what Crowley had said, or why you were smiling like an idiot. For several minutes, you had trouble registering the many aquatic animals swimming around the various dimly lit tanks. All you could focus on was Deuce Spade: his handsome smile, his warm hand, how the jacket hugged his attractive figure just right, how softly he spoke to you - and how pretty his eyes looked as they shined with the shadowed ripples along the aquarium walls. 

[lolasimms]

a lots gonna change pt.11

Summary: Married life isn’t great, infidelity ensues, and things change.

Feel free to send asks regarding the series!

next part

"Thanks baby." You reach out to Abby, as she hands you a sandwich container from the office’ cafe.

"No problem, I've missed you so much." She sits beside you on the couch and drops her head down to your stomach. Caught off guard you laugh and stroke her head causing her to groan in delight.

"Abs we literally saw each other yesterday." She lifts her head and smiles at you, peppering kisses all over your face.

"A few hours without seeing my girl and I'm driven crazy, I need to be with you at all times." She smiles at you, as you open your container and look at her lovingly.

"If it makes you feel better, I missed you too." You lift your sandwich to you mouth and take a generous bite and hear Abby groan again.

"I'm getting really horny baby"

"I'm literally eating a sandwich, how could that possibly turn you on?" You drop your food and glance at her in disbelief.

"I don't know, everything you do turns me on"

"You're such a lover girl" you say, bringing her hand to your mouth and placing a kiss on her knuckles.

"So, can I come over tonight, finally make that dinner for you and Lila that I promised." You sigh placing your container onto the coffee table and leaning towards her.

"Not tonight baby, Ellie's coming over. We have a thing going on." You immediately feel her tense up and shift uncomfortably.

"What kind of thing?"

"Lila's class is putting on a play, so we're taking her out for dinner and then going to watch it."

"You didn't tell me Lila was doing a play, I would've loved to come see it."

"Its not a big deal, plus each kid is limited to only two tickets." She turns to you smiling and brings you into her arms.

"It's fine honey, just tell Lila I'm wishing her good-luck okay?"

-

Ellie wanted to look as good as she could for you. She wanted to impress you tonight and prayed that all went well. She wore a pair of black slacks and a navy blue dress shirt. Her hair in its usual half up, half down style. She'd even ironed her clothes and spritzed on the cologne she knew you loved so much. She grabbed her keys, locked up and headed to the florist.

She was aware that your favourites were carnations so she grabbed a bouquet of those, and for the Star of tonights show, she picked up a mini bouquet of white roses. She had some time to kill and figured she'd much rather prefer to eat in at the dining table of your place like a real family, rather than go out for dinner. With the food in her hands and the flowers tucked underneath her arms, she was knocking on your door an hour early.

"Hi Ellie" you smile as you open the door. You wore a pair of blue jeans and a milkmaid top. Ellie had to curse herself for staring at your boobs too long.

"Oh hey, you look nice." She let's out and you smile and walk her inside.

"Thanks Els" she flinches at the nickname you used to call her, but she doubts you'd even registered that you had said it.

"I got you these, and I brought some food, figured we could just eat here." You're taken aback when she hands you a bouquet of carnations, your favourite.

"Thank you, this was very thoughtful of you." You take the flowers and place them in an empty vase, as Ellie sets the food on the kitchen island. As you're filling the vase with water, you hear the familiar pitter patter of feet hitting the floor.

"Momma" Lila runs into the kitchen, hugging Ellie's legs and squeezing her.

"Hey baby, are you ready for tonight?" Ellie lifts Lila into her arms, kissing the child.

"Mhm, I've been practicing in my room." She smiles and you can't help but smile too. She'd been practicing all week long, making you hold the script while she tried to master her lines. You were so proud of how seriously she was taking this.

"Good job baby, can't wait to watch you tonight, I got you a present but you can get it after the show" Ellie glances towards the bouquet of white roses and Lila squeals. Immediately she runs and grabs the flowers sniffing them.

"Lila, momma said you can have them after the show, not now." You speak and she simply rolls her eyes.

"Im not taking them, just smelling"

"Okay well let's set them down and wash our hands before we eat, we should be leaving here in 40 minutes" Like clockwork the two of them follow your orders, washing their hands at the sink and then walking over to start eating.

-

"Lila I thought you said it started at 5?"

"No we're meant to get here at 5, but parents come in at 7." She grabs her bag as you walk her towards her schools theatre building.

"So I just drop you here and wait two hours?" You question as she lets go of your hand, about to make her way into the doors.

"Mommy it's just two hours you can wait in the car." You curse yourself and prepare for what you were expecting to be the most awkward two hours ever.

-

"So we have to be here for two hours while they prepare" Ellie asks in disbelief and you nod.

"According to Lila yes" you you glance outside the parking lot and their seems to be other parents parked and sat in their cars.

"Well shit, just builds the anticipation for the show I guess." Before you can reply you let out a harsh sneeze, and then another, and another.

"Shit, do you have any tissues?” You ask Ellie, covering your nose in embarrassment.

"Glove box" she mumbles and you're shocked at what you see. Immediately she's reaching over trying to stop you but it's too late.

"Oh my god Ellie" you smirk as you hold up a ziplock of blunts, immediately she turns beet red.

"Give me that y/n” She smiles but you pull it away before she can grab it"

"Can we smoke this?" You don't know what had gotten into you, but you knew this was the only thing that would make the next two hours alone with Ellie bearable.

"You sure?" She smiles and you nod.

"Fuck I guess we're getting high at our kids school"

-

Getting high before watching a play filled with 5 year olds wearing beards and dressed like grown adults was a mistake. Big mistake. The two of you couldn't stop laughing and the parents sat next to you were starting to catch on. Each time a word came out of the children's mouths you and Ellie couldn't stop laughing. It was so bad that one parents sat in-front of you had to turn around and shush you. When Lila came on however it was worse, the two of you were cheering, clapping and whistling, pissing off everyone in your vicinity.

"I think they're on to us" you giggle and she nods.

"I'm hungry"

"Me too"

Seeing as Lila wouldn't be on for another few minutes, the two of you made your way out of your seats and headed outside of the auditorium to find a vending machine. You were sat in-front of the machine while Ellie tried to get it to work and surprisingly enough it had. She had splurged on packs of m&ms, skittles, a bar of snickers and a kitkat. As soon as she had thrown some into your lap you were gorging your mouth with the sweets.

"Mmmm" she groans as she takes a humorously large bite out of her snickers bar.

"Give me" you lean over and bite the rest of it and she snorts loudly. Causing the both of you to erupt in a fit of obnoxious giggles.

"I think we're great parents, like we deserve a parent of the year award" She says as she reaches into your bag of m&ms and takes a handful.

"I agree" you smile.

"We should probably head back inside, or Lila will kill us"

-

Mommy, Momma!" Lila comes running up to the two of you in her costume. The two of you crouch down to envelop her in a joint hug, so proud of her.

"You did so good baby, these are yours" Ellie says as she lets go of Lila and hands her the promised bouquet. Lila squeals taking it in her hands and jumping with excitement.

"You were so good baby, we're proud of you" you take one of her hands in yours and begin leading her out of the building. Ellie trailing beside the two of you. As soon as you'd made it out of the schools parking lot, Lila was fast asleep. The poor thing was probably exhausted and honestly so were you. Despite dreading today your night with Ellie was funnier than you'd expected it would be.

As you got into the drive way, Ellie had offered to carry Lila to her room and you were more than happy to accept. You grabbed her bag and bouquet and rounded the car to unlock the door. You took a seat on the couch as Ellie ascended the stairs with Lila in her arms. For a second you wondered if this was what it would've been like if the two of you had never separated, if the domestic bliss would be this light and happy. You were brought back to life when Ellie came up behind the couch, tapping your shoulders gently.

"She's asleep, completely knocked out" She rounds the coach and takes a seat next to you.

"Good, you gonna pick her up tomorrow or want me to drop her off?" You question, it was Friday tomorrow meaning she had Lila for the weekend.

"I can pick her up, whatever's most convenient for you" She smiles and her leg leans closer to yours.

"I had fun tonight, didn't expect I'd ever get high at Lila's school but it was fucking hilarious." You turn looking at her with a smile and she does the same.

"Me too, probably the most eventful day I've had in the last 6 months" In all but two seconds she's leaning forward capturing your lips in a kiss. You accept it for a brief moment but then pull back.

"Ellie I'm sorry, we can't"

"Why not?" She leans forward, staring deep into your eyes.

"You know why." You lift off the couch and she takes this as her cue to leave.

"I'll see you tomorrow." She says as you let her out the door and close it shut.

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[cup1dt3a]

what if y/n or reader was the villain in the show welcome home puppet show and had a crush on one of the character

There was only one person who did this so far and i loved it

would the reader go easy on them or harder so no one would know

would they show concern when there crush is crying

would they stop there plans all together if they were asked by that person (only for a day maybe)

Tysm for the request and love the idea! And I’m doing this with 2 of the members in cast if that is ok because no on was specified on here and I just really want to write about Julie! Also this is fan content of welcome home that has nothing to do with the lore!

Oh to be the antagonist of this story is very “interesting”. You’re always the cause of the moral of the story on why doing whatever it was is bad. Or you just sabotage them throughout the show.

But mostly sabotaging the main character Wally Darling. Always messing up his paintings by adding yourself to the picture. Literally you just crudely draw yourself right beside him. Even going as far as to cross a few of his friends out or replace their heads with yours. While always leaving a signature evil as yours right next to his with a little heart. All over yours and his neat signature. Sometimes putting a heart around both your signatures as a way to circle them. You thought it was cute and a sweet sorry. While Wally was sometimes annoyed by this you would always cut him off before he could say anything.

Most of the time apologizing with “ I’m so so very very sor-sore- sarh- sarh-I think I’m gonna puke! SORY! I said it now you can’t be mad at me…oh geepers my tummy is all topsy turvery now I hope your happy!”

Yes for comedic purposes you could never say sorry without almost puking it was a curse and a gift.

You would always go the hardest on him. No matter where or who he was with Wally would always be your main target. He was just so much fun to mess with. Such as putting the blame on him in Howdy Pillar’s shop by stealing an apple from its once neat stand. Leaving a mess for the yellow man to have to clean up himself. As they all fall you disappear with a clever disguise. Glasses and a mustache. The perfect disguise no one can recognize you! Well kinda? Howdy and Frank always know it’s you and you have no idea how. You fooled Julie and Barnaby with it. Even Wally you think? So how are they exposing you like that!?

For anyone else maybe a few pranks here and there but Wally oh dear sweet Wally will always be victim to your harshest pranks.

But Wally was also the only person you ever listened to that made you stop your devious plans all together. One little “ No, not today Neighbor.” And you’re done for. Fully defeated, and devastated that your plans were cancelled. Not really to be honest you could always do them next time.

Crying. Is something you’d never really try to make anyone do. Really it’s all harmless fun until someone gets hurt. And if Wally do happened to get hurt or start crying your the one who is literally comforting him. Pulling out tons of tissues from your pocket. Panicking over the fact that you made him cry. So you’ll disappear for a few days and go very and almost too easy in everyone especially Wally for once.

You were once again in your unnoticeable disguise. The same one you always wore as you walked around the colorful road of the neighborhood to find Wally. You the came upon the man asking what to paint. Excitedly rushing over onto his shoulder.

“ I think you should paint me~!” you announced dramatically catching the blue haired man off guard.

“ Sure neighbor.” He said gaining his composure now catching you off guard.

Now this was a surprise as you blushed. You quirked your eyebrow at his calmness and to the fact that he willingly without hesitation said he would paint you.

“ Fine then…stranger! Paint me as if I’m the most amazing person in the world! Because I am!” You proclaimed in a dramatic pose.

“ Whatever you say ___.” He said with a sigh as he started to paint catching you fully off guard.

You panicked declaring an answer on how he knew it was you.

“ You use the same disguise and put a different mustache on every time you’re doing something no good.” He said as you huffed.

You thought no one would notice especially with the purple mustache. Come on it was purple and very long and pointy too. And you even got different shoes. This is so unbelievable the nerve of that pretty man!

To be the antagonist of the story and have Julie as your main “victim” is the hardest thing ever. She always laughs and says “ Oh neighbor you’re so silly!” or “ Can you teach me how to do that!?” and even “ Hear let me help you I know an easier way to do that.”

She is too nice to you. She even laughs when you’re doing your evil laugh too! It throws your whole vibe off! You’re supposed to be the evil villain that strikes fear and misery. Not the joke of a villian with some stupidly adorable blonde who always helps and complements you! No she’s supposed to fear you not hug you right after you just tripped over falling face first from your epic exit!

With Julie you go harder on her than anyone else! Not because you like her no it’s because you hate that she is supper nice and supportive; She’s always trying to help you become a better person and…she needs to be stopped. Julie is always thought rushed away from you when Frank is near. The man pulls her away as she tells you “ Bye ___! Hope you have a good day!”

“ Guys I think they just need a chance!” She’ll say while being told “ THEY JUST TRIED TO TRICK HOWDY INTO GIVING THEM OWNER SHIP OF HIS OWN SHOP!”

Making Julie cry is the worst thing you could ever do. Literally if you’re the reason she cried or because you ran into the always happy blonde crying you better give her a hug. It’s technically illegal not to. She is just a ball of pure sunshine that is too nice. If you don’t hug or try to comfort her you’re a heartless monster at that point. But if you are the reason she cried because of you. Do not show your face for a few days. Never show your face again you monster!

“ Hey Julie….Um so I’m sorry about what happened yesterday… I brought you flowers.” You sighed as you handed her the huge bouquet of all her favorite flowers.

“Listen I swear I didn’t mean to ruin that feild of flowers…my Poison-inator3000 somehow malfunction and-“ “ Oh Neighbor! You’re the best!” She gasped hugging you around the neck with a loving squeeze.

She happily smiled at you as you just stood in show with the bouquet still in your hands. You slowly hugged her unsure how to huge her in your akward position and mental state. The sweet blonde is hugging you. Repeat the sweet adorable blonde is hugging you.

Sorry for the wait I’ve been busy recently. So expect me to post more often! Hope you’re all doing well or things are getting better!

Sincerely-Cup1dT3a💕

[of-dragonss]

Ive had a really bad day 😭 dew fluff?

here you go lovely! i’ll be combining this request with this one if you don’t mind !

☽ ༚  ༵ ۰ ✧ ۰  ༵ ༚ ༵ ۰ ✧ ۰  ༵ 

— dewdrop x reader (gender unspecified)

summary: dewdrop surprises you during a ritual

Loving you.

☽ ༚  ༵ ۰ ✧ ۰  ༵ ༚ ༵ ۰ ✧ ۰  ༵ 

Being a stage technician for the band had its perks. For one you got to travel the world, albeit be brief moments in beautiful cities. Spending time outside the Abbey was good for you. No longer in that stuffy uniform you wore around, instead in an all black casual outfit just like the rest of the technician crew. It was nice walking around in jeans and a nice button up for a change.

But the biggest perk was getting to spend time with your boyfriend, Dewdrop, before and after rituals. You loved watching him perform from the sidelines. Always in awe of his talent with his guitar. Having the fans craving his attention as he got close to the edge of the stage to throw one of the picks he carried during performances. Maybe a little too close for your liking. You’ve seen the members take a few tumbles during your time as a stage tech, and you know one of these days he’ll take a fall right in front of the pit.

“All I’m saying Dew is one of these days you’re gonna fall face first in front of the fans. Remember when Swiss fell off his platform earlier this tour? Watch your footing, please.” You teased lovingly, swinging your legs as you sat on the stage, watching Dewdrop adjust his guitar next to you, resting his forearm on the floor of the stage. You can practically see him rolling his eyes behind the goggles of his mask.

“I’m always careful.” He shot back at you, sticking his tongue out at you childishly. “Besides you’re always watching out for me. If I fall, I know I’ll be in good hands.” He set his guitar down gently where he was leaning from the stage to stand in between your legs. Snaking his arms around your waist to pull you closer, careful not to let you slip. “You’re always looking out for me.”

“Because its my job, doofus.” Your arms wrapped around his neck, smiling up at him. “Well, no, I take that back. It isn’t my job to babysit you and the rest, any injuries you get is not my fault. I’m only in charge of making sure sound and lighting are okay. So if you fall it’s every man for themselves.” Dew scoffed as he pushed you away gently, taking a few steps back.

Before he could say anything else, Copia called everyone to their places for their last practice round before fans started lining up outside the venue doors. Dewdop quickly kissed your cheek before the two of you ran off to make sure everything was working smoothly for the north american tours last ritual.

And everything has run smoothly so far. The ghouls and Copia didn’t fall on stage, the fans were screaming lyrics at the top of their lungs, the lights were working properly, sounds weren’t deafening or cutting off, pyrotechnics worked great, and everyone in the building was content and happy. You and the other stage techs were quietly jamming along to the songs in the sidelines, content with another successful ritual. Sister Imperator will be pleased to hear about.

The familiar tune of Cirice traveled through the air, and the crowd screamed in excitement. The pit was bustling with the anticipation of who Papa would choose to sing to today, fans hoping to get a chance to get Circied. An occasion people could only dream of. Instead of walking to the front of the stage, Papa walked over to the sidelines, where you were standing. Dew walked over to the front, eyes shifting focus to him.

Papa stuck out his hand to you, confusion written on your face as you hesitantly took it. Following him to where Dew stood, who was now looking at you. Copia directed you gently to keep walking to him as he sang, eyebrows furrowed and heart beating wildly in your chest as you stood next to Dewdrop, hands held close to your chest to keep them from shaking. While you did run around after the opening acts finish their sets to prepare for Ghost, this was entirely different experience on stage in front of thousands of people.

This was definitely not part of the show. Dewdrop stepped closer, resting his mask gently against your forehead. Then it suddenly clicked in your head. You were being Ciriced. Not by Copia, who was standing a few feet behind close by, gesturing over to the two of you as he sang. You were being Ciriced by Dewdrop. Who you knew was looking directly into your eyes as you stood there confused. But nonetheless you smiled lovingly at him. Closing your eyes and leaning into him a little, careful not to get to close to his guitar.

The crowd seemed to not mind as some turned on their flash from their phones to gently sway in the crowd as the song continued, Aether and Rain standing at the far ends of the stage. Copia singing passionately into the microphone in his hands, unable to hide the smile on his lips as he watched his two friends in front of him.

It felt like it was just the two of you. No one else mattered at the moment. They didn’t exist to you as you focused on the pressure of the mask on your forehead and the body heat Dewdrop radiated off of him. Opening you eyes as the song came to a close by the sudden cold when Dew pulled away you tilted you head at him as the last cords played in the speakers.

Dew drop kneeled in front of you, hands reaching to pull out a box. Your eyes widened as the crowd cheered loudly watching Dewdrop open the little black velvet box. Your hand flew to cover your mouth at the sight of an engagement ring neatly placed in the center.

“Will you marry me?” It was hard to catch as the crowd was cheering at the two of you, but you heard Dewdrop loud and clear. Words didn’t come to you. Choked up with so much love for the ghoul in front of you, you could only nod your head rapidly. As the fans screamed once more, Dewdrop gently slipped the ring on your finger, standing up to engulf you in a hug.

“Give it up to the happy couple!” Copia instructed, clapping his hands together. The rest of the ghouls cheered as well, Aether and Swiss clapping wildly and cheering. The ghoulettes squealed in excitement for the two of you.

Soon everything died down and you were escorted back off the stage, right before Dewdrop kissed your cheek one last time to play the last few songs for the night.

When the last of the fans left the building, Dewdrop ran to over to you backstage where you were patiently waiting, engulfing you in a tight hug, spinning you around.

“I convinced Papa to let me propose to you tonight. I wanted to surprise you, Y/n. I love you so much. You mean the world to me.” He ripped his helmet off his head and started peppering your face with kisses, his hands gently holding the sides of your face.

Giggling at the onslaught of kisses from your now fiancé, you pulled away to stop his attack so you could kiss him properly. “I love you too, Dewdrop. I’m so happy.” Another long kiss before you two almost went crashing down by the sudden impact of Aether throwing himself to bring you both into a hug, which was followed by the rest of the ghouls circling you in, talking 100 miles per minute. Closing your eyes and resting your head on Dews chest, with a sigh you smiled wide. Happy to be with the people you loved most. And happy for what’s to come in the future.

[weretheones]

All You Got | Part 7

Part 7: Burning Out

Plot: Daryl Dixon hadn’t known much beyond anger and loneliness his whole life, until he found family at the end of the world. Everything he grew to care about was ripped away the day the prison fell; so when he recognized you, an enforcer of his loss, hiding in that cabin, he almost pulled the trigger. But after you end up saving his life, he couldn’t find the indifference to leave you for dead, even if you’d been on the Governor’s side. (Mid-Late Season 4) 

Series Masterlist | AO3 Version

Paring: Eventual Daryl Dixon x Reader Word Count: 5k Warnings: description of injury, infection, and other typical twd content. mentions of death. A/N: oh hi <3 im happy to be back with a new part for you guys. definitely needed that break. I had my last class of university this week and I've just been a bundle of feelings lately. thank you for being so patient and for all the lovely comments lately :) mwah! enjoy

These last few years, the fight had been constant— to find shelter, to defend a friend, to get your next meal. Each day was like a knife at your throat, leaving you to wonder when the blade would finally pierce and bleed you dry. 

It was an oddly empty feeling when there was nothing left to do. A gnawing in your gut, like you'd been doing to the raw skin of your thumb the last half hour, as if there was an answer you were forgetting. 

You ran through the list for the ninth time. The last of that antibiotic cream. Dressings coated in a layer of honey— Daryl taught you that one. A damp cloth over his forehead. As much ibuprofen as you could give him. You’d done it all. Now there was nothing left to do but wait for the fever to break. 

It was miserable. 

The room was dark, lit by a single candle. Sometimes it flickered with your occasional sigh. Otherwise, it cast a gentle glow across the small bedroom. You sat in a cushioned chair by the door, five feet from Daryl’s bedside. It had been in the living room until you dragged it in here yesterday, falling into the same routine as you did now. Chin resting in your palm and a lazy stare at the sick man ahead. 

It’d gotten bad since that first day. Infection came— of course, it did— and without much more than that antibiotic cream and the rest of the drugs you'd used for your leg, Daryl was forced to fight through it. That meant long, feverish nights like this one. 

Waiting. 

“Ya jus’ gonna stare at me all night?” 

You sat up. His eyes were narrowed into a slit, but open. With only the low flicker of the candle beside you, they almost looked black. 

“You’re awake.” 

“Guess so,” Daryl mumbled. “Hot as hell in ‘ere.” 

He was already stripped of his vest, that flannel he wore on cold nights, and his boots. Yesterday, in one of his steadier moments, you’d dug a simple black t-shirt from the dresser and made him change. It took him a couple of minutes, his shoulder still stiff and swollen with infection. It gave you time to wash his usual sleeveless button-down as best as you could, though a litter of blood stains still dried across the fabric. 

As you stepped closer, flickering candle in hand, you could see the damp mark of sweat around his collar, but if anything, the room was cool. 

“Your fever’s getting worse.” 

You grabbed the cloth from his forehead. It was tepid on the edges, warm where it rested against his skin. Puffy eyes met yours, scanning your serious expression. He’d been asleep for hours. You’d only managed to get a few with that anxious pit in your stomach waking you up, over and over. 

“Feel like shit.” He adjusted his spot, sitting up against the pile of pillows behind him with a low groan. You passed him his bottle of water and placed it back after he’d had a few sips. 

“How long I been sleepin’?” 

“Most of the night.” You sat by his legs. The bed was bare of its thick blanket; you’d torn it off him when his skin started to burn. The top sheet was thin enough that you let him keep it when the chills hit. He kicked it down when the first hot flash came. “You woke up a couple of times.” 

“Don’t remember tha’.” 

“I figured. You’ve been pretty out of it.”

Daryl nodded, eyes as tired as they’d looked at sunset. Yours must’ve been similarly drained. 

“Ya got any sleep yet?” 

“A bit,” you said. “I’m fine.” 

“Ya don’t look fine.” 

You gave him a playful, lopsided grin. “You sure know how to make a girl feel special.” 

Daryl huffed, eyes falling to his lap. But your tease had done what it meant: to distract away from the bloom of purple that was, no doubt, forming under your eyes. Those sickening worries about Daryl’s health were already suffocating. You didn’t need the weight of your well-being piled on top. 

“You hungry?” 

He hummed yes. That was a good sign, you thought, before drifting out of the room. 

Dawn was still a few hours away. You walked the dark halls of the house you’d come to know, and a few minutes later, that same candlelight welcomed you back into the bedroom Daryl stayed in. You had a bowl of steaming chicken soup and a half-eaten package of crackers in hand. It was a good thing you’d gone for the bag, after all. If you hadn’t, it would’ve been just another thing to worry about.

His appetite was low, but better than it’d been the last couple of days. There were still three crackers he hadn’t touched and a quarter of soup left, but he seemed adamant about having the rest later. Food was often in such short supply that he wouldn’t dare waste a bite. 

“Thanks,” he muttered. 

You placed his bowl of leftover soup and the half-eaten package of crackers on the dresser you’d raided for cloth, towel, anything that could be boiled sterile and made into a bandage when that roll of gauze finally ran out after his second dressing change. 

Back at his side, you gave him a small smile. “Still feel like shit?” 

He chewed his lip. “Shoulder’s throbbin’ somethin’ awful. Head too.” 

There was a small bump in his hairline left from that day. He hadn’t caught a concussion, but the fever had been giving him a wicked headache. 

“There’s another hour until you can take the next round of painkillers.” You dipped the cloth back into a small bowl of water. Rubbing your thumb along the inches that had become warm, you waited for the fabric to cool. Droplets trickled down as you rang it out, causing ripples to catch in the faint light. It was the only noise in the air, save Daryl’s slow, heavy breaths. 

Until you turned and he caught that dispirited expression across your face. It must’ve been particularly obvious; the candlelight barely reached your face at this angle. As you stepped closer, the glow curtained you in delicate gold. An easy warmth that looked quite special painted across your gentle features, even if they were hinted with regret. 

The closer you got, the harder his head pounded. No, his heart. Which seemed to echo in his head. 

His eyes shifted away when you found that spot next to him again. 

“Should save ‘em anyway.” 

“No. This is what they’re meant for.” 

He huffed as you placed the cloth on his head. As your fingers inched closer to his skin, he blinked rapidly. It wasn’t quite a flinch, but you felt the resistance all the same.

“Still. Might need ‘em later.” 

“You need them now,” you challenged. “We’ll have time to find more when you’re better.” 

When. 

“Guess you’re the boss.” 

You scoffed. If anything was in charge, it was that fever. 

“Is there anything you can think of that could help? Another pillow or…” You shook your head, not even sure what else you could offer. 

He rolled his good shoulder back, biting back a groan as he found a comfortable spot against the bed. “‘M alright.” He nodded, even sparing you the smallest curl of his mouth. 

You gave him a bittersweet smile back, fighting the urge to brush his bangs behind his pinkened ear. His cheeks were flushed too, even if he seemed to be retreating back into the warm bed. Perhaps the hot flash was nearing its end. 

“You should drink some more. It’ll help.” You handed him the water again. 

He took small sips. 

It wasn’t until a few minutes later when a distant thump came from the other side of the house, and Daryl didn’t jump up, that you realized just how out of it he was. Thick in the fog of fever and pain, his senses were dull. On the contrary, the twitching in your muscles had started hours ago, a cruel mix of exhaustion and restlessness. It made you more jumpy than sharp, but demanded your attention for every small creak in the house the same. 

Your shoulders tensed, and your head snapped to the side. 

Daryl noticed that. 

“Wha’?” He grumbled. 

A gun sat on the small table next to your chair, next to the book you couldn't read well enough under only candlelight. You stood up and grabbed it, weighing the heavy handle in your palm. You made a mental note to keep your twitching finger off the trigger. 

“Stay put. I’m serious,” you told Daryl with a quick stern glance and closed the bedroom door behind you. 

The wooden floors whined even under the slowest, steadiest steps you could manage. The hallway was thin, drywall stained with cigarette smoke. There were two doors ahead, one on the right leading to a small linen closet and one on the left that passed into the kitchen. Quietly, you made your way to the general area where the noise had come from, near the kitchen, while raising the gun Ross gave you. The exit to the back porch was there and, fuck, what if someone had snuck in? What if they had a gun and cruel intentions and what if you had to— 

Deep breath. 

You hovered in the same spot for a second longer, waiting for the drum of your heart to slow. It wasn’t much, but at least you were able to open your eyes without that dizzy fog suffocating you again. 

It was only a few more steps to the kitchen’s doorway. With your back to the wall, you reached the hallway’s end and peeked around the corner. 

Good thing you only peeked. 

A figure caught under the moonlight. It shuffled past the small window, looking out to the side of the house. Shadows cascaded onto the cheap tile floors. Two— three— four walkers stumbled past the wrap-around porch. It reminded you of that first night after the prison fell. How Daryl stood watch all night with nothing but his bow as a herd of the dead moved through the street, surrounding the house he'd dragged you into. All night, you sat on that couch, nursing your hurt leg, watching the dance of their shadows along the walls, and avoiding Daryl’s abrasive stare. Waiting for the moment they finally knocked down the door and took you into their cold fingers first. 

This herd didn’t seem as big. Maybe a few dozen. You could only guess from the noise of bodies thumping carelessly into the house’s siding. 

Carelessly— that was good. It meant they hadn’t realized you were here yet. Best keep it that way. 

Delicately, you snuck back to the small bedroom. The thick curtains were already drawn, and that single candle was soft enough that you weren’t inclined to race back and blow it out. 

You opened the door again, and, well, should’ve guessed Daryl would’ve been out of bed, knife in hand and about to open the door himself. The gun slipped into the holster at your belt, and your eyes sought out his. They were uneasy, red-rimmed with dilated pupils.  

“It’s just a group of walkers passing by,” you said in a hushed whisper. “Get back in bed.” 

“How many?” 

“Maybe a couple dozen.” You gently pushed him back toward the bed, twisting the knife out of his grip as you did so. “They didn’t see me, so we can just wait it out.” 

“Ya can’t take ‘em all on.” 

“That’s why we're gonna stay here and be quiet.” 

“You should go.” 

You blinked. 

“What?” 

“If those assholes get in ‘ere, you run,” he said. His voice was hoarse and his accent thicker. “Don’t worry ‘bout me.”

Your brows furrowed. Your whisper was soft, even if pitched with confusion, “Daryl, they don’t know we’re here. They’re not coming in.” 

There was a fog in that usual bright blue. It wasn’t from the dim lighting, either. He was dazed. 

The back of your palm landed against his forehead. Hot. Then dropped to his chest, just below his collarbones. Your hand laid flat against that black cotton, stretched over the broad expanse of his chest, and felt that same burning underneath. Daryl hadn’t flinched, he seemed to give up that impulse when the fever took control, but his eyes did flicker down to your touch. 

You shook your head. “You’re burning up. You don’t know what you’re saying.” Your hand hadn’t fallen off him yet, a lingering touch as the rhythm of his heart became a soft pulse underneath your palm. Gently pressing him back toward the bed, you hushed, “Lie back down. Relax. We’ll be fine.” 

He listened. Whatever that outburst had been about seemed to slip away with the cushion of an old mattress underneath him. It felt like a new weight lifted off your shoulders; you weren’t sure if you could sit through a lecture about how you should leave him for dead. After all he’d done, all you’d done, that just wasn’t an option. 

You sat beside him again. “Here.” You held a pill in the same palm that’d landed on his chest. 

“Thought it was too early?” 

“One more isn’t gonna kill you.” 

The fever could.

He glanced down at the small blue capsule. “How many left?” 

You almost laughed. Feverish, incoherent, and still stubborn. 

“Enough. You need them.” 

If you told him there were only three more pills in that bottle, he’d refuse. You held your tongue and he tossed them into his mouth. Swallowed, leaned back, and groaned. 

“Water?” 

“Elderberries,” he muttered. Your brow furrowed, and he gave you a weak shrug. “Hershel used ‘em for the fever, ‘fore we got back.” 

Hershel. 

You remembered that name. Of course, you did. The Governor had called it out right before he used him as a bargaining chip. Hershel, the man with the long white hair. He’d kneeled in front of that fence, tan shirt damp with sweat and hands tied behind his back. Even tried to reason with the Governor. It was his neck that poured blood, him that inched his way around the cars you were hiding behind when the bullets started flying. 

Until the Governor cornered him. Chopped into his neck three times before his head finally rolled across the bloody grass. 

The memory made your skin pale, your breathing pause. 

A second later, when your vision focused again, Daryl’s eyes were closed. His chest raised and fell with deep breaths, his heavy exhales tickling your clammy skin. 

After you’d had a moment to regain your composure, you asked, “‘Got back’?” 

You weren’t following his train of thought. It seemed to go beyond the weeks the two of you had shared, reaching into his time spent at the prison. That part of his life had been mostly out of bounds for you. Blocked from the casual conversation you sometimes fell into. 

The fever seemed to tear those boundaries down.

“The vet college. We had to— to get the meds for the sick ones,” he muttered under his breath. 

The cloth sitting on his forehead had fallen onto the bed, presumably when he’d gotten up to follow you. Your boundaries seemed to slip away, too; you finally brushed away the damp mess of bangs on his forehead, tucking a few strands behind his ear. 

There was a part of Daryl that never seemed to let up. It went deeper than stubbornness. He was strong, innately, even when his body was failing him. You knew it took a lot out of him to try and follow you out, and had probably brought on some kind of dizzy spell that was making him spill his guts now. 

“Elderberries,” you repeated. “I think I remember. If you make tea, they can help bring down a fever.” 

“Mhm.” 

“Smart man,” you said under your breath. 

He still caught it. Fever and all. 

“He was.” Daryl nodded slowly. His eyes seemed to glaze over again. “He was a good man.” 

A lump caught in your throat, stealing your voice. That old feeling of guilt sunk into you again. 

“I’m sorry,” you whispered. “He didn’t deserve it. None of you did.” 

“Should’a kept lookin’.” 

It was overdue, you thought. Daryl didn’t seem the patient type, not when it came to his own body, at least. Give him a long hunt, he’d be fine. A wound that kept him bedbound? He was itching for something— anything— to do. The worrisome fact that his family was still out there couldn’t have helped. 

You sighed, “We will—” 

“For the Governor.” 

Oh.

“Maybe if I wouldn’a gave up…” 

He sunk deeper into the pillow, mouth moving as incoherent whispers slipped past. 

It dawned on you that Daryl was perhaps his most vulnerable right now. Maybe even more so than when you first cleaned his back. In this moment, that surly, reserved man slipped away to leave someone who… who seemed lost. Guilty, like you. His words left you confused, filling in the gaps in his story, his regrets. 

He’d been looking for the Governor. If you had to guess, which you did, you’d assume after he killed Merle. Daryl had issues with his brother, no doubt, but he’d proved time and time again to be fiercely loyal. To his brother, his people, even you. Why he’d give that up, you couldn’t say. But Daryl didn’t seem irrational, or disinterested. There had to have been a reason— something— to pull him back. 

There was an undeniable part of you that ached to hear more, to let him bare himself to you in ways he hadn’t dared before. Curiosity could prove to be a dangerous thing. The trust between the two of you was fresh. Delicate. Leading him on with questions or letting him ramble in the midst of a daze, could rip it to shreds. 

You refolded, then placed the cloth back on his forehead. 

“Elderberries,” you whispered again. “I’ll look in the morning.” 

The walkers outside were still too close. 

It was quiet for a while. Daryl drifted off to sleep quickly and the dead passed thirty minutes after. You curled in the chair again, chin perched in your palm, leaning over the armrest. There was still that gnawing feeling in your gut. Still that worry that you could be doing more— should be. 

But exhaustion had dulled caution when the dead passed that half hour ago. Your blinks slowed, moments of darkness stretching into seconds, then minutes, and it became nearly impossible to keep your eyes open. 

The last thing you saw was a thin ray of early morning light, slipping between a gap in the curtains. Barely noticeable, until it had landed across Daryl’s face.

It seemed as good a sign as any, you thought, before drifting to sleep.

— 

The fever broke the night of the herd. Cups of elderberry tea helped subdue the few symptoms that lingered, and the stream of puss from his wound seemed to reach an end, after all. Four more days passed by and with them, the constant stress and anxiety that plagued you those late nights. 

A few more hours of sleep under your belt and life had become calm. Idle, even. 

The wind was lazy, its soft huff could barely rustle the fallen leaves. Hues of red, yellow, and anything in between scattered the woods, stretching into the backyard. A sharp crunch under your boot. There was a bite to the air, but the new berries you found had lasted through the weather’s turn. 

All those chilly mornings and early sunsets were not in vain; autumn was here, and winter was nearing, too. Though the cottage had been good enough while Daryl healed, it wasn’t suited to become a permanent stay. Certainly not a home. The surrounding trees were too dense, the walls too thin, and it didn’t matter how many strings of cans you set as alarms since the herd passed that night, you couldn’t sleep without one eye open. 

Even if it hadn’t been for his people still being out there, you’d have to leave. 

With the small bag in one hand, you pulled the first alarm string above your head. It chimed in the wind until it steadied again. It was an effective system; Daryl was opening the back door before you even had a chance to break through the tree line. 

You passed into the backyard with a smile. 

“Hey,” you said.

“Hey. Find anythin’?” 

“Just some berries.” 

The morning’s sun had drifted away within the last ten or so minutes. It wasn’t much of a shock to find the sky had darkened with heavy-looking clouds. 

“We should go in, looks like it's gonna rain,” you said, sliding between his frame and the door. 

It didn’t take long to place those buckets around the porch, just past its cover. A couple of empty, uncapped water bottles sat next to them. It didn’t take long for the rain to start, either. 

Inside, the small table in the kitchen was homemade. Shoddy work, but it could balance the few candles you’d found in the basement when night came. You picked the berries clean of their stems while Daryl confirmed the findings of your foraging were, in fact, edible.

Maybe at the start, when your brother had found that survivalist book, you would’ve been able to tell. But that got lost a mere month after he found it. Since then, you’d only stuck with the basics. What you knew was safe, without a doubt. That meant you spent a lot of time scavenging abandoned buildings instead of the woods. 

Daryl, on the other hand, seemed to know the forest better than anyone. You could assume from that deep accent and the fact that he never cringed at mud on his skin that he wasn’t a city kid. No, he probably grew up in the sticks. The middle of nowhere. In this world, that kind of experience was invaluable. You’d spent many hungry nights, staring at a bush of unrecognizable berries, wondering what could’ve been if you’d had it, too. 

By the time the two of you were done, a damp cold settled along the walls. The rain had been pouring down for some time. It wasn’t as harsh as it had started, but the cool, moist air was sinking in. The temperature of the usually feverish sun dropped, hidden behind grey clouds. 

Daryl started a fire with that wood you’d found a couple of days ago. The pile was dwindling faster than expected; the nights had been cold. The short flames reached up to the bottom of a pot you’d positioned. You poured some rainwater inside, then tossed in a couple rags to sterilize, and waited for it to reach a boil. 

By the time Daryl heard those bubbles begin to break the surface, you had wandered back to that back door, standing with the heat of the fire to your back and the cool breeze brushing across your face. 

You heard his steps approach behind you. 

“I like the rain.” 

Daryl stood at your side, quiet. 

“I always loved that smell, too.” You inhaled a deep breath, staring beyond the porch. “Do you remember what that’s called?” 

“Nah.” Daryl shook his head. “Jus’ called it rain.” 

You grinned. “Well, regardless. I always liked it.”

He watched the rain come down. It soaked the fallen leaves and dampened the soil. The breeze was slow, weaving its way through dripping trees. The roof was a weak material, something cheap and old, and echoed a low patter of rain. It made everything feel softer. Muted. 

“Me too.” 

You glanced over your shoulder, that grin slipping into a tender smile, kind and sweet. Daryl met your look, felt that bloom of familiarity in his chest, and gestured you to come back in. The cold would become bitter again and inside was warm, so you followed. 

He sat by the fire, arms wrapped around bent knees. He’d peeled off his vest, then his flannel, and finally pulled down the left sleeve of his shirt. Just like the first day you checked his wound. You sat behind him, a small pillow under your knees and the freshly boiled rags sitting in a clean bowl to your left. 

That little routine the two of you had fallen into— you’d come back to Daryl, who’d help deal with whatever you scavenged that morning, before you cleaned his wound, then ate— came easy. He’d gotten less tense every time you had to face his bare shoulder again. Which was frequent, unfortunately, since the exit wound had proved more troublesome than the smaller entrance. 

That heavy pit in your gut at the thought of those scars and their cruelty hadn’t alleviated much though. 

“How’s it feeling today?” 

“Better.” 

You nodded and unwrapped the bandage. The fever had been the height of that infection that hit him a few days ago. During the worst of it, his wound had swelled and reddened, leaking a trail of puss that reminded you why you could have never been a nurse like your brother. Today, the swelling was gone and the redness cleared. It was improving.

“It looks better, too.” 

“About time,” Daryl huffed. 

On the other hand, his attitude hadn’t improved. 

You sighed, “It’s only been a couple of days.” 

“’S been a week.” 

“You were shot.” You passed the rag along the few dried bits of puss, careful to leave the growing scab undisturbed. “It takes a while to heal from that.” 

“We don’t got a while.”

“I know.” Your jaw tightened.

Daryl was becoming more agitated with his rest as the days dragged on. Cabin fever, maybe. It must’ve been especially bothersome for a man like him, someone who seemed to feel more comfortable in the woods than four walls and a roof, to be trapped here. Especially when neither of you had forgotten the whole point of running house to house in the first place— finding his friends. 

“But we agreed. You need to let this heal as long as it can before we leave.” 

“Trail could’a gone cold by now.” 

Even with your eyes on the back of his neck, drifting down the outgrown strands of dark brown hair reaching to the cuff of his shirt, you could almost see him chewing his lip. It turned out that Daryl’s unease had become mixed up with yours some time ago. By now you could feel that stiffness in his muscles, as if it was in you, too. 

“It could’ve.” You dropped the last strip of clean cloth back into the bowl. “It could be fine, too.”

Daryl glanced back at you over his shoulder. It made you freeze— he hadn’t offered any attention other than the small talk you shared while you patched him up. Not until now, when those narrow blue eyes burned into you, demanding your attention. 

It was almost instinctual, that warm smile you offered. Still, you were sure he could notice that somber look in your eye. The one that remembered the fear and urgency you felt while in pursuit of your brother— before it ended the way it did. 

He seemed to notice every hint of emotion that slipped past your grip. 

“Dwelling on it won’t help us find them any faster,” you said. 

You glanced over his expression, almost leisurely in your inspection. His lips were parted slightly, jaw slack. Though he wasn’t angry, there was a heaviness in the pretty blue of his eyes. Lately, you were realizing that might be permanent. 

While it was sweet, your smile didn’t do much to soothe his urgency or frustration. He turned back. 

“I can’t keep doin’ nothin’.” 

You swallowed, bandaging a clean strip of cloth around his shoulder as the tone shifted. 

“Four days ago you could barely get out of bed.” you firmly stated. “And two days ago, you could barely lift your bow.” 

“‘M fine now,” he snapped. 

“You’re still healing.” 

“Yeah, well, I don’t care.” 

The cloth reached its end and you paused. Going in circles with him was exhausting. It made your stomach flutter with anxiety, too. This routine the two of you had fallen into, something idle and restful, was comfortable. He was comfortable. 

Maybe even a friend. 

“Well, I do,” you replied. “I guess I like you too much to risk you getting hurt worse.” 

Daryl glanced at you from the corner of his eye. Subtle enough that you almost hadn’t noticed. 

“Thought we didn’t have to like each other,” he retorted in a lighter tone from his previous. 

“It makes things a lot easier, don’t you think?” You smirked. “And if you can’t aim that bow, you’re kinda stuck with me anyway.” 

You, like anyone else nowadays, knew what it was like to lose a friend. You certainly didn’t want to lose Daryl— whatever it was you had with him— from perhaps a curse of your own overprotectiveness. It was hard to let someone go back into that dangerous world after you learned how bright their blood ran, but this thing you two shared was fragile. Trusting. If Daryl said he was ready, you had to be willing to give him a chance. 

So, with a cautionary glance at his new bandage, you gave in an inch. 

“One more day.”

His mouth opened, but you snapped before he could, “It's bad enough we’re leaving while you’re still hurt. I’m not doing it in the middle of a storm, either.” 

The rest of the day Daryl was still tense. Emotionally, at least. He practiced picking up his crossbow, balancing the weight in his hands. You packed both bags, boiled and bottled all the water you could carry, and hoped this was the right thing to do. The rain didn’t let up until long past sunset. 

When morning finally came and the sun broke through grey clouds, you followed through on your word. Backpacks stuffed full, your boots landed across that empty road and the two of you finally left that little house for good.

-> part 8

A/N: slower part, but I think they need that right now. it can't all be fighting and running and shooting and blah blah. I love these little interactions between them as they grow closer <3 I hope u do too!

if you’re reading this, thank you! I hope you enjoyed this chapter. please feel free to leave feedback, it helps so much and I love to read it. have a lovely day <3

[lumosinlove]

Vaincre

Details and full fic on Ao3 

~

April Part Two

~

Oh, this is gonna be a big one, isn’t it, Lee?

Sure is. We’ve got—well, I’ll say a complete top line. Black and O’Hara tearing it up as usual, but we’ll be missing sorely someone who’ll be across the ice this time, eh?

That’s right, Logan Tremblay—oh, there he is now. Skating out in blue.

“Your New York Rangers…” came the drawn out roar around Madison Square Garden.

Remus shifted back and forth on his skates. He could already feel the coolness of the ice from down the tunnel. He could feel Sirius behind him, doing the same thing.

“All right, boys, big game,” Thomas’ voice came from somewhere closer to the front of the line. “Big game, big game!”

Coach Weasley confessed in his pre-game interview that Winter was supposed to start tonight in net, but it’ll be Knut instead. He didn’t go into details, but it’s not a secret that Winter’s been battling injuries for quite a few seasons now.

It’s true, Dean. But Knut has been proving himself over and over again. We’ve heard from his teammates how important he is in the room, also how hard he is on himself after a loss. Tell me, Dean, we see this a lot from net minders. We see the way they place weight on themselves—Kasey Winter, too. Do you think that’s something Knut will have to manage down the line?

You know, Lee, I think he’s a kid. He’s so young—so much of the Lions team is so young—hell, their Captain is so young. I think its in their nature to be hard on themselves, they’ve all been working for this life for a long time. That isn’t to say I don’t think you can be too hard on yourself. And that’s tricky territory, especially given the fact that—now, I don’t want to say this, I really don’t—but given the fact that Knut could be looking at the starting spot soon.

Oh, yeah.

Madison Square Garden booed when they skated out, and the rattle of Sergei knocking the pile of pucks down off the boards for warm-ups was drowned out. Remus gathered one for himself, pushing hard around the back of the goal before tucking it neatly into the upper crossed corner of the still empty net. The music boomed, some lyric-less bass-heavy beat that Remus could tune right out. He didn’t look across the ice, to the blur of blue jerseys just at the corner of his vision. Sirius stayed at his heels, pulling to a hard stop just beside him.

“Seventy-one,” he said. “I didn’t think about the number.”

“What?” Remus asked, looking up at him. Sirius only nodded across the ice, and Remus took a breath, and then looked. He found Logan almost immediately, TREMBLAY in white across his shoulders rather than black, and, below—

Remus frowned, before realizing. Artemi Panarin already wore ten. Now, Logan wore 71 on his back.

“Leo’s 1, Harz’s backwards,” Sirius said, and then turned to smile at Remus, tapped a glove over where his necklace rested. “Guess you’re not the only one who likes to play with numbers.”

“Weird, huh?” Leo said as he skated up beside them, mask propped on top of his head. He jerked his chin across the ice. “He’s always been ten. In school and everything. Ask Finn.”

“Really weird,” Remus said, and Sirius gave him a loving nudge before skating off for his routine, Leo towards the goal. Remus headed for his usual spot in one of the corners, where he bounced a puck off the boards a few times, but at the last second, he changed directions. If he couldn’t change his routine, he didn’t like that. He took a long, slow breath and thought of earlier that morning, Sirius’ warm arms locked around him. He thought of how well Sirius knew him. How thoroughly. He tried to keep that thought playing through his mind, willed it to be louder than the music, than the chorus of winwinwin in his head.

Remus skated to the bench instead, lightly checking into Finn, who resolutely had his back to the ice.

“How’s he look?” Finn asked, squirting water into his mouth.

Remus glanced over Finn’s shoulder, only to see Alex skating up to them, coming to hard stop that sprayed Finn’s lower body with ice.

“Ugh,” Finn said and squeezed the water bottle at his brother’s chest, squirting the front of his jersey. Remus just laughed, knowing that the cameras were catching this for sure.

“Hi, baby brother,” Alex said, throwing an arm around his neck. “So glad you’re here. Ready to get your ass kicked, bud?”

“You wouldn’t kick my ass,” Finn said, and pointed to the top of the stands where the Rangers’ team box was. “Not while Mom and Dad are watching. We both know only I could ever get away with that.”

Alex just grinned and sent a wink to Remus. “He wishes. Hey.” He knocked his and Finn’s visors together. “Gotta tell you something.”

“No,” Finn pretended to put his gloves over his ears. “La-la-la, I don’t know what you’re gonna do but I’m not falling for it.”

“No, really.”

“La-la-la—”

Alex slapped at the side of his head. “It’s about Tremz.”

Finn lowered his hands, still looking suspicious. “What?”

“Don’t mind if Sir Lupin hears?”

“Oh, believe me,” Finn said, sending an identical grin to Remus. “Loops has heard it all. What, you weirdo, spit it out.”

Alex raised his glove near his mouth for privacy in case any cameras were on them, but he was still smiling—Remus actually thought his eyes looked a little bright. “In the locker room yesterday, Saint was talking about some book series and Lo just basically goes—” Alex gave Finn’s shoulders a little happy shake. “Oh, yeah, my boyfriend loves those.”

Remus’ heart squeezed as he saw Finn’s eyes go a little unfocused on the ice. He set the water bottle down on the boards, swallowed, and closed his eyes, like some final part of him surrendered to the belief that it was real. That this was real. Remus remembered that feeling well.

“Yeah?” Finn breathed.

“Yeah,” Alex said, softer this time. “Yeah.” He smiled, pushed Finn’s helmet down over his eyes, and skated a few strides backwards towards his own side of the ice. Finn pushed his helmet back up and watched him go.

“You fucking crying, Al?” Finn laughed, but he sounded choked up himself.

“Yes!” Alex called. “Love ya!”

Looks like the O’Hara brothers already have their competitive streak up and ready. As usual. Hey, what a treat it’d be to see those two play together on an Olympic team or something, eh, Dean?

Finn cleared his throat. Remus saw him finally look for Logan, saw him find him on the ice—saw Logan find him back and raise his stick with a soft look. “I love you, too.”

Before he crossed the blue line, Alex picked up a water bottle and squirted it at Kasey, who barely flinched. He was dressed in gear, but playing back-up tonight, baseball cap shading his eyes. “What’s cookin’, good lookin’?”

Kasey just shook his head, smile small, brown eyes challenging. “Rangers stew.”

Alex scoffed, but skated closer to knock their helmets together gently, before darting off towards Montague in the Rangers goal just as the whistle blew, signaling the end of warm-ups.

The first few face-offs were a blur of adrenaline. Remus watched Sirius line up against Zibanejad. He kept waiting for Finn and Logan to end up shoulder to shoulder, but it never happened. Each time Logan was on the ice, Coach called Finn off of it. Thomas and Olli hardly let Logan near Leo’s net, either, double-manning him, predicting his every move. Remus saw Sirius and Pascal share slightly wolfish grins when Logan hit his stick against the boards in frustration.

Looks like Tremblay’s having himself quite the time out there against his former teammates. Haven’t seen him share the ice with his old college line mate yet. Had a bit of a tussle with Dumais, though, ha! Do you think that’s on purpose?

Tremblay and O’Hara go so far back, man, so much history. Played together at Harvard. Best friends, too. I don’t know why you’d keep two opponents who know each other’s game so well off of the same ice. I’d say you’d want that advantage, but, then again, that could backfire real quick, huh, Lee? I suppose I just want the show! Ha!

Oh, I’d say so.

“Jesus, Montague’s on tonight,” Sirius panted between drinks of water as the whistle blew for a deflection over the glass by the Rangers.

Remus nodded as he dragged a towel over his visor, clearing any sweat and steam away. “So’s Nut.”

“Ouais.” Sirius held his hand out for the towel and Remus handed it over. “We’re both locking each other down.”

“Better than the alternative.”

Sirius shrugged noncommittally and knocked on Remus’ helmet, making him laugh.

“That was an observation, not a jinx.”

Sirius didn’t look convinced, only glanced up at the clock. Six minutes to go in the first and no score. “If you say so.”

The Garden was still chanting Saint’s name after that last save. Saint, Saint, Saint, like they had stumbled in on some holy ritual. Remus took a moment to gaze up and around at the seats. Never in his wildest dreams had he ever thought he would get to play here after his injury. Never again, and now he had done it a few times. He didn’t think the effect was likely to ware off anytime soon. He watched Logan skate out, watched him check what line he was against—Pascal’s. Pascal said something as he took the face-off against Trocheck, and Logan smiled and rolled his eyes.

There we go, saying hello to an old friend, eh, Dean?

Tremblay lived with Dumais. The old joke is that they couldn’t get him to leave! My wife’s obsessed with Tremblay’s instagram, lots of pictures with Dumais’ kids. We know Tremz is the baby of three sisters—youngest child’s secret dream, to be the oldest?

Hey, I’m the baby of my family—no way I’d give up that leverage for anything.

Trocheck won it and Remus allowed himself a moment to settle into his old, familiar routine of watching Logan skate, the way he used to when he had spent all of his time on the bench. Sirius would always be his favorite—light, even strides that were soundless when he cut into the ice—but Logan skated like he was prepared to go miles and miles for what he wanted. His edges were clean, he could stop at the smallest touch, which meant it was hard to get around him and even harder to take the puck from him. Remus guessed that was why the Rangers coach had put him with Panarin. He shouldn’t be enjoying the way the two seemed to see lanes on the ice that looked closed, angles that looked impossible, but he was. Beautiful hockey was beautiful hockey, and Remus had always been able to appreciate that no matter what.

Logan narrowly avoided Evgeni, who definitely hadn’t gone in for the hit with his usual force, but it did make Logan pause for long enough that Evgeni was able to poke the puck away with his long reach, and right into Pascal’s waiting tape. Pascal turned and pushed hard up towards the other end—Logan on his heels.

“Très étrange…” Sirius breathed from beside him as the two whipped by.

“Yeah,” Remus said. “Strange.”

“Black!” Coach called when Evgeni came for a change. “O’Hara, go!”

Sirius was over the boards in a flash, well-rested from the whistle break. He caught Logan easy, Pascal blocking any shot he might make from behind. Logan liked to do that, no look passing. Finn had been on the receiving end of those for his entire career. Logan would keep his green eyes narrowed on the guy in front of him and then fake a shot, only to knock it back to Finn with his backhand for Finn and his speed to race half-way up the ice.

He couldn’t pass to Finn now, though, but Remus saw him hesitate, like the muscle-memory of it was fighting with him as he saw Finn in front of him on the ice. Finn shouted something to him that Remus couldn’t make out.

Oh, here we go, finally. This should be a show. Tremblay surrounded by familiar faces in the Rangers’ zone, knocks it to Panarin who can’t get it through, sends it around the boards to Fox, holding, holding, can’t get a lane—Black’s got it! Picked his pocket right up, looks like—is he gonna go coast to coast, Dean? Tremblay’s at his heels, can’t catch him—

Remus was on his feet as Sirius widened his stride the closer he got to Montague’s net. Saint was making himself big, blocker and glove out, knees ready to drop.

“Fake left,” Remus said under his breath. “High, high, c’mon…”

Sirius’ right leg raised, but Saint didn’t move the inch to follow where Sirius wanted him to go. Sirius’ shot was hit right out of the air by his blocker—God, the very edge of his blocker.

“Rebound!” Jackson shouted from beside him. “Cap, let’s fucking go!”

Sirius scrambled for it, but Logan got there first and knocked it all the way down the ice. The whistle blew for icing on the Rangers, and Logan’s line would have to stay on the ice for another shift, tired as they were.

Jesus, not often do you see a chance taken away from Sirius Black like that, do you, Lee?

Nope. No, you do not. Sebastian Montague, in these past few years…well, he’s been making a name for himself, yes he has.

Logan and Sirius were panting, sticks on their knees, not quite looking at each other. Logan bent to hand the puck to the ref, and Remus watched him send a glance to Sirius, watched him say something. Sirius turned and, after a moment, smiled, then reached his stick out to lightly wack Logan’s shins. Remus felt something release in his chest, looked to Finn who was watching them as he skated towards the boards for a change. He looked like he was feeling something similar—complicated and relieved, happy and sad.

“Mind staying out, Harzy?” Coach said when Finn reached the bench. Coach had an equally complicated look on his face as he raised his calling card to his mouth so the cameras couldn’t read him. “You distracted him good out there. Black got close, I think he can get close again before clock runs down.”

Finn looked surprised for a moment, then grinned. “Oh, Coach. I was born to distract Logan Tremblay.”

~

Remus was drenched in sweat by the time they were making their way down the tunnel for first intermission. They were still 0-0, but it was one of those games that just felt good. Difficult and evenly matched, low on hits, high on skill. It was always like that with the Rangers. Remus handed Lars his sweaty gloves to be dried with a nod of thanks. The locker room wasn’t loud, but it wasn’t quite. It wasn’t frustration exactly that hung in the air. More like will power. They wanted this. All of them.

Remus cut through the puck-marked tape on his stick once he was sitting in his stall again. Finn came into the room near the end of the line, just ahead of Leo, and let out a very loud, meandering sigh-like noise that made Leo laugh.

“Okay, Harzy?”

“This feels like a really weird dream. Like…” He paused to pull his jersey over his head, then stripping his pads off, leaving only Logan’s fleur-de-lis around his neck and his pants. “Like one of those dreams that you wake up and try to figure out what the fuck it means but you just sit there confused.”

Thomas laughed from beside Remus. “That was a whole thought.”

“I have a lot of them, occasionally.”

Remus just smiled and got up for the bathroom to rinse the sweat off of his face and neck. Within, Kasey was at the sink, stripped out of his pads. He was strong and tall, but always looked smaller, more fragile, in the moments just after he had removed all of the bulky goaltender gear. Kasey met his eyes in the mirror, twisting on the tap.

“Hey, Loops.”

“Hi, Bliz,” Remus said.

“Intense so far, eh?”

“Yeah,” Remus smiled. “Hey, gonna see Alex later?”

“Yeah, but we’re going out with a few of the guys first—not sure if the Cubs are coming, too, but I think they are. Old Harvard teammates and all that. And, from what I’ve heard from Leo, Tremz probably wants to do some sentimental shit like—I don’t know, serenade them?”

Remus laughed. “It’s sweet. I didn’t know he was like that, but it’s damn sweet.”

Kasey made a show of rolling his eyes but he was grinning, too, shutting the water off. “Yep. It is.”

“We’ll probably come, too,” Remus said. “But if we don’t win, I can’t promise you-know-who will be any fun.”

“Oh, you’ll wring some fun out of him, I know it.”

Remus leaned over and splashed water over his neck. “I always seem to, don’t I?”

Kasey was silent for a moment, but he wasn’t leaving like he normally would. Like any player, he had a strict intermission routine. Instead, he stood there, half-turned towards Remus.

“So, Cap asked you to marry him,” Kasey finally said.

“So he did.”

“I want to marry Natalie.”

Remus couldn’t help the way his head snapped towards him, couldn’t help the grin that crossed his face. “Oh my God, Kasey. That’s—” But then he noticed Kasey’s conflicted expression. “What’s up? That’s great, man.”

“It is.” Kasey nodded. “I’ve only been thinking. Our relationship with Alex is newer…well, Alex feels like my oldest friend in the world, but in this way, the way we three are now, it’s new. Very new. I don’t know how to tell him that I want to marry Natalie without him thinking that…without him worrying that I don’t think of him as permanently mine like that. Because I think I will want that. I think Nat will want that. I just…it feels different. We’re in a different place. I want to marry one person, but I want to keep the other.”

Remus nodded. He couldn’t picture wanting anyone but Sirius, couldn’t imagine having any room left over in his heart, but it filled him with warmth every time he thought of the Cubs, or when Kasey had told him about Natalie and Alex. Kasey was so quiet about it, but he was a bit like Finn, Remus sometimes thought. He had endless things to give.

“I think…I think you should tell him.”

“Yeah?”

“I think—I mean, maybe you’d be better of talking to Finn or Leo or Logan—but aren’t both of your relationships proof that things develop at different rates? That more than one thing can develop at once?”

Kasey nodded. “I…yeah.”

“I mean—okay, now that I’m thinking, even me.” Remus crossed his arms, leaning against the counter with a hip. “Maybe I don’t want two different people, but I wanted to kiss Sirius before I knew I was ever going to be friends with him. That shouldn’t really make sense, but that’s how I felt. And then he became my best friend while I was also falling in love with him. At the same time.”

Kasey smiled. “Yeah, I think we all knew about your little crush.”

Remus laughed. “I’m trying to say that I think…I think you should talk to Alex, ask Natalie, and…” Remus huffed out a laugh. “And wring out all the best that life has to offer. You’ve got a good hand you’ve been dealt.”

Kasey was quiet for so long that Remus started to worry that he’d said something wrong. That maybe he’d wanted or needed something else. He looked away from Kasey, trying to give him space, but kept an eye on his expression in the mirror—it was crumbling, slowly.

His voice came out so soft that even the bathroom’s echoes barely caught it. “I think I need to retire, Remus.”

And part of Remus felt like crumbling, too. Kasey was so quiet about it, about all of it, and Remus suddenly felt painfully grateful that someone like Kasey trusted him like this. He was thankful for his old job, and all that it had given him. If he’d started as a player, he wasn’t sure he would’ve gotten that.

“I know,” Remus said just as softly. How many hours had they spent together, trying to make the pain go away? Remus leaned his palms on the counter, freezing to the touch. “God. I know, Kase. You’ve been hurting a long time, huh?”

“They tell you to fight through it,” Kasey said, eyes down and unfocused. “That’s the thing about hockey. That’s probably what wrecked me and Alex for so long. What wrecked Sirius. They just tell you to fight through what hurts and it’ll go away. And if it doesn’t go away, ignore it. Pain means you’re an athlete, you asked for this.” Remus watched Kasey close his eyes. His face would have looked almost peaceful, if his voice hadn’t had a fine tremor to it, words barely audible by the end of his next sentence. “I’m so fucking tired of it. I’m so tired.”

Remus straightened and put a hand on Kasey’s back. “Kase…”

“I don’t know what’ll happen,” Kasey said.

“What’ll happen is you’re so fucking young. They make you feel old at twenty-eight in this game, and it’s bullshit. You can do anything you want. What’ll happen is you’ll choose something incredible, Kasey. I know you will. I know that because you know how to take your time. Believe me. I understand.”

“I—I want to finish the season. Give myself that.”

Remus nodded. “All right. Layla and Lars will help you.”

Kasey looked at him. “Will you help me?”

Remus had to take a minute. He squeezed Kasey’s shoulder and nodded fiercely. “Of course I will.”

Kasey sent him a quiet smile. He put his hand over Remus’. “Guess I’ll start with choosing Nat, then, huh?”

Remus smiled back. “Sounds like a good plan to me.”

~

Finn just wanted to get back out onto the ice. He had thought he would be sad. He thought he would have woken up with dread and a dry mouth at the thought of seeing Logan in blue. But he hadn’t taken into consideration that now Logan’s eyes would always be on him, storm-ridden sea green, trained on him, looking for the best way to beat him. Finn could see it now, even as he mindlessly taped fresh sticks for period two. It riled Finn in a way he hadn’t known it would.

“Hey,” Leo said, sitting down in his stall beside Finn. “I know we said we were all going to Lo’s but…lots of the boys are going out tonight.”

“You want to go, babe?”

Leo shrugged. “Kinda. Don’t know if Lo knows about it, though. He won’t be looking at his phone now, gotta see after the game.”

Finn tore the tape with his teeth and smoothed his finished work. “I think we should. Today won’t be complete till I’ve got my hands all over your hips while everyone’s looking. We don’t play tomorrow, we can fly back after the team does.”

Leo’s answering smile was bright and he leaned forward to press a kiss to Finn’s cheek. “That sounds good. So good. God, this game.”

“How’s it feel to you?” Finn said. “Because its getting me unexpectedly…toasty.”

Leo snorted. “I know, I can tell. I…” He paused. “I just—I really don’t want to let one of his past me, you know? It’s stupid, but oh my god, I don’t.”

“It’s not stupid,” Finn said. “Believe me, I feel the same.”

Leo leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “He looks good out there. Blue suits him.”

“You look good out there,” Finn said.

Leo offered him a small smile, eyes lingering over Finn’s, then Finn’s mouth. “Harzy?”

“Yeah?”

Another beat of silence, another flick of his eyes up, then down. “I—miss you.”

Finn started a little, blinked, sat up straighter. Leo smiled a little bashfully, looked down, and Finn reached out and put a hand on his thigh. “You miss me? Le, I’m…”

“I just mean…I feel better. And I can tell you feel better. We were all so different, for a moment there. And I’m—I guess I mean that I’m happy.” Leo put his hand over Finn’s. “That’s all. I’m happy. I don’t know.” Leo squeezed his fingers. “I—yeah, I don’t know.”

Finn nodded, slowly, understanding. He thought of the horribly still nights that they’d shared after Logan had first left. All of their trying, all of their tight grips. It did feel better now. Finn scooted closer, took Logan’s necklace from around his own neck and slipped it over Leo’s surprised, soft expression. He took Leo’s chin gently between his fingers and kissed him, because he could.

“I love you happy.” Finn said. and tapped the necklace and kissed him again. “For luck.”

“The necklace or the kiss?” Leo’s smile was bright.

“The necklace. The kiss is because I love you. Here’s another.” Finn kissed Leo’s forehead, then rested his own against it. “And I miss you, too. I don’t know exactly what I mean, either.”

Leo let out a breath. “Yeah…”

“But I do.”

Leo closed his eyes and nodded. “Yeah. Me too.”

The second period started off with a bang. Evgeni took on Reaves—and Finn honestly couldn’t be sure who won, only that they were both still talking a mile-a-minute on their way to their penalties.

“Does Reaves speak Russian?” Finn leaned in to say to Jackson, who just snorted.

“Kuns doesn’t care if you know what he’s saying during fights. It’s the feeling, Jackson, the feeling. They scare.”

Finn smiled. “Right. Reaves totally looks scared.” They looked like they were going to break down the glass.

“17, on Tremblay.” Coach tapped Finn’s shoulder. “Remember.”

“Oh, Coach, I remember.”

Finn next jumped the boards beside Sirius to swap out with Pascal’s fourth line. He narrowly avoided a hit by Blais with the puck on his stick, and managed a slick pass to Olli, only to have the puck snatched out of the air by Montague. Chants of Saint filled Madison Square Garden again. Saint, Saint, Saint. When he saw Panarin jump the boards, he fell in at Sirius’ shoulder.

“It’s not working up high.”

Trocheck followed Panarin, and then—

“Tremz’ll know if you go low.” Sirius was chewing on his mouthguard, eyes on where Logan was skating towards the face-off circle—towards Finn. “He’ll block. If he’s not shooting, he likes getting up in the crease to protect the goal.”

“We’ll have to try and get him unmatched from the Panarin line, surprise him. Their guys seem to like Lo and him together.”

Sirius nodded as they turned back to the face-off. “Try to trap him in the corners, maybe the others will go for a change.”

Sirius bent across from Trocheck, and Finn—well, he stopped for a minute. He had known what would happen just now, but he hadn’t realized exactly what this would mean, facing Logan’s line. He looked right into those familiar green eyes. They hadn’t been this close all night, and now Finn leaned forward, skate braced against Logan’s, snug shoulder-to-shoulder. Distract.

“Sorry, what’s your name again?” Finn said, and pretended to look back at Logan’s jersey. “Huh. Can’t pronounce that. I’ll just have to call you seventy-one.”

Logan suppressed a smile but said nothing. He kept his eyes forward, but there was a blush to the back of his neck.

And there are the old teammates. Chatting it up—well, O’Hara is, anyway.

“Seventy-one,” Finn said, mockingly thoughtful. “Got the last pick, eh? The dregs?”

“Harzy,” Logan said in a low voice.

“Hey, remember earlier today when we made out?”

That made Logan look at him, eyes pleased and fiery, just as the ref dropped the puck. Logan cursed and gave Finn a nice, hard shove, but not before Finn got the puck from Sirius and sent it up the boards. That was as good as a starting gun for Logan, and Finn gave chase. He saw his chance and took it. He pushed through one hard stride, then another, before pinning Logan not too softly against the boards, the puck trapped between both of their skates.

“Hi there, Tremblay,” Finn breathed, mouth perfectly positioned against Logan’s neck.

He knew Logan could feel his breath there, especially when he let out a frustrated noise low in his throat, and tried to shove back against Finn, free up the puck, but Finn fought right back.

“This? You want this?” Finn groaned as Logan shoved an elbow back against his ribs. “Oh, ouch, what was that for? Thought you loved me.”

“Finn,” Logan said through his teeth. The crowd was beginning to get restless and loud, but Finn just wanted to smile. He couldn’t help that they were matched for strength, that they could predict each other’s every move.

“Never felt you fight me like this before, huh?” Finn made a try for the puck but Logan’s broad shoulders edged in front of him again, making him have to switch to his other side. He could feel Logan’s sweat against him from the damp curls of his hair peaking out from his helmet, taste the salt of it. It was all him.

Logan let out a low groan of effort again and finally knocked the puck free. Both of them dived for it, only to find Remus there, snatching it up, tapping it to Thomas, back to Remus, back to Finn to tapped it in a quick east-west to Remus who pulled his stick back for a slap-shot—it rattled off the crossbar and into the Rangers’ net.

Finn put his arms up with a shout and Remus turned towards him, pointing his glove at him.

“Yeah, Harz!” Remus grinned as they crashed together, Thomas putting one hand on each of their helmets.

“Having fun in the corners there, Finnegan?” Thomas said.

“Very much so. Gonna get an earful for it later, though.” Finn laughed as he skated down the bench to tap gloves with his teammates, receiving a slap on the helmet from Coach as he used the gate to get into the bench. He glanced up and caught green eyes staring at him for just a second.

“My boyfriend loves those,” Finn said quietly to himself. “My boyfriend reads those.”

Wow, all smiles from O’Hara. Certainly pleased with himself over that goal.

Finn looked down the ice at Leo, and he couldn’t really see his eyes, but he could tell that Leo was looking back by the slow, exasperated and fond shake of his head.

“You say something?” Evgeni asked from beside him.

Finn pointed to Leo. “My boyfriend’s the goaltender for the Gryffindor Lions.”

Evgeni made a face, brown eyes confused. “Harzy, I’m know this?”

Finn just smiled, letting out a long breath. “I know. I just wanted to say it someone.”

~

Logan sat back in his stall with his eyes closed.

“How you doing, kid?” Alex’s voice said.

“I’m a little…fluttered.”

“You’re…fluttered?”

“I think I said it wrong.”

“Flustered?”

Logan rubbed at his eyes, then laughed. “I guess. Turned on feels closer.”

Alex must have been drinking water because there was a snorting sound and then he was choking through a laugh. “Oh-kay. Okay, Tremblay, wow. Zero to one-hundred.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Alex laughed again, taking another sip of water. “I mean, keep in mind I believe you’re referring to my brother’s little clean hit, but don’t be sorry.”

“Huh,” Percy said from where he was re-lacing his skates. “I believe Finn was hoping it would be perceived as a bit more dirty, actually.”

Logan laughed. “Shut up.”

Logan felt easier in this locker room. Part of him worried it was only due to the mere proximity of the Lions, of Leo and Finn, of Sirius and Pascal. He had been living without the promise of see you tonight and he still got sad going home to an empty apartment. But he liked this team. They were kind and tight-knit. They pushed each other and uplifted each other. Even the quiet, somber ones like Luke—though, Logan guessed he could be considered a quiet and, sometimes, somber one himself.

He stood up. “They’re starting on the power play, which is dangerous.”

Percy put up his hands. “I didn’t trip Nadeau. Fucking refs.”

“Cap—uh.” Logan shook his head, threw his jersey back over his head so he’d miss any second looks he got for that. “Black is probably really fired up so. Dangerous around the net. Whether you tripped him or not.”

“So?” Alex said. “You’ve got a slapper that can go the distance.”

“Non, they’ll expect that. They’ll put Walker right in front of it.”

“Hm.” Alex stood, too, throwing his shoulder pads on over his bare chest and beginning to smooth the velcro.

“Well,” Percy said. “You know Knut better than any of us. We’ve watched tape, but…”

That brought Logan up short. He looked over at Percy, his fair hair wild from drying sweat.

“What?” he asked, though he’d heard him.

“What’ll work?” Percy asked, like it was obvious.

Logan opened his mouth, but couldn’t think of a single thing to say. What’ll work against Leo? He knew, obviously, but…

“Five-hole.”

They all looked over at Saint, who had spoken—who rarely spoke between periods usually. He was sitting in his stall beside Luke, cold towel around his neck.

“He’s tall,” Saint continued. “Long legs, he can’t get down as quickly as he always should. But he’s good with his hands, he’ll snatch anything glove-side right out of the air.” He looked over at Logan, eyes knowing. You can’t do this, so I’m doing it for you. “He’s been doing it all night. But so have I.”

Logan couldn’t keep his eyes off Leo. The way he came back out for the third, marking up the freshly smoothed blue paint in front of his goal with precise, measured strides. He was all the way at the other end of the rink, but Logan had a feeling Leo was watching him, too. When Leo came to the bench for a full water bottle before the first puck drop, Logan saw that he was right.

Logan almost didn’t want to look over. Finn had caused enough of a stir in him. But he couldn’t help it. He found Leo’s blue eyes. He had his mask up.

Hi, Logan saw Leo mouth.

Logan bit his lip. “Hi.”

Then Leo reached into his jersey, brought out a necklace, and kissed it. With a start, Logan realized it was his fleur-de-lis. He felt himself flush hot. He felt himself smile. He touched the place on his own chest where the pendant had once rested. Leo smiled, pulled his mask down over his face, pointed two fingers at his own eyes, then at Logan.

Logan recognized the challenge.

Ha! A little message from Leo Knut there. We’ll see if Tremblay rises to the bait and evens out this game.

They had been right about the power play. Sirius was buckling down and fierce. Logan felt the same. Any hyper-awareness that he’d had about playing against his old team faded to the back of his mind. Muscle memory took over. He didn’t hit—he didn’t think he could bring himself to really let that go—but their faces blurred and the Gryffindor red could have been Detroit’s. After each shift, he barely wanted to sit on the bench.

He found himself shoulder to shoulder with Finn again, determined not to give into him this time. Determined to maybe feed him a bit of his own fire.

“Do you remember,” Logan began. “That first summer we spent in New York together, and you read me those books?”

Finn smiled. “Ha, you can’t get me. Alex already told me. Ha-ha.”

Logan kept his eyes ahead. “I think I was already in love with you.”

Logan had the puck on his stick before Finn could even close his mouth.

Oh man, this is what Tremblay’s famous for, Dean. As fast backwards as he is forward and—those feet. One of the best skaters in the league. He passes to Morgan, Morgan to Panarin—the magnetism! Wow, back to Tremblay, over to Marshall, narrowly avoiding O’Hara on his way down the ice, Tremblay, back to Marshall, back to—Oh! And he scores! Tremblaaay!

Oh, what a look on Tremblay’s face! That’s bliss, man. That’s bliss!

Logan slammed up into the glass with a shout, Percy just behind him.

“What a pass!” Logan managed to say from beneath Percy’s glove all but trying to smother his face.

“Like old times, eh?” Percy laughed, then turned to call to Finn. “Eh, O’Hara! Owe you one, you fucking beauty!”

Finn waved him off, but the gesture did draw Logan’s eyes to Leo. He was tracing the blue paint with his stick, like he always did after a puck got past him, head down, trying to re-focus. Logan knew that this was normal for him, but that didn’t make the twinge of guilt in his gut any better. He had, for the first time, been the one to cause that look on Leo’s face. Leo was hard on himself. Logan knew this from many sleepless nights spent with him. The fact that it was Logan who had scored…he knew that didn’t make it easier for Leo.

And even still. A certain triumph. Leo. He’d gotten one past Leo.

But the victory didn’t last. No more than four minutes later, Finn and Remus were like hounds on the ice. Logan had almost forgotten. They were playing for the playoffs. Remus squeezed one in beneath Saint’s left pad with three minutes to go, and then Finn, nearly swiping Alex’s feet out from under him in the process, pulled the Lions ahead of the tie for a clean win. A clinch. They were two play-off teams now.

Logan was happy for them. He wondered if they would get to meet each other in the first round, depending on who the wild card ended up being. But Logan couldn’t watch them all celebrate on the ice, piling against Finn by the glass, gloves on the ice. That, he couldn’t quite do.

~

Remus could feel the happiness coming off of Sirius. They had done it. They were going to the play-offs. Sirius had even been almost receptive when the reporters had surrounded him in his stall. He’d even forgone his baseball hat that usually kept his eyes shaded and unreadable. Remus had had a bit of a moment, watching him push his sweat-drenched hair out of his bright eyes, answering questions in English, then a few in French.

“Thank you, Sirius,” a few of the writers had said, and then Sirius had smiled with a merci.

Remus joined him by the fridge that held sports drinks and water. He nudged their shoulders together. “Merci.”

“Shh,” Sirius said. He sent Remus a smile, though, pressed a kiss to his temple.

Finn’s parents were at the game, of course to watch both of their sons play. Remus had only met them a handful of times, but the energy they brought with them into the room was classic. Remus could practically smell the early morning practices, alarm clocks and high school locker rooms and jerseys on clothing hangers in stalls.

“How you doing, kid?” Finn’s mom grinned, pressing a hard kiss to Finn’s cheek and rubbing his back. “What a game. Almost a hatty. How’d it feel?”

Finn’s dad, Ramsey—a tall man with the O’Hara’s soft brown eyes and a handsome face with tortoise-shell glasses—rubbed a hand through Finn’s hair. Remus could tell he’d been doing that since Finn had only come up to his knees. “So weird to see Logan in blue.”

“Yeah,” Finn said. He still had his arm tightly around his mom’s shoulders, and his knuckles looked like he was really holding onto her. If Remus didn’t know better, he’d say there was a bit of emotion in Finn’s voice. He thought of what Alex had told him. My boyfriend reads those. He thought of how long Finn had been waiting for a sentence like that from Logan. “Yeah. It was weird, but it was good. See Alex yet?”

“Not yet, came to you first,” Ramsey said. “Al said he was gonna come down here to you, anyway. Oh, Leo—” Ramsey smiled at Leo as he came to Finn’s shoulder, and held out his arms. “What a fucking game, man. Hot hands on you.”

Leo accepted the hug and the slap on the back, then pointedly ignored Finn’s exaggerated look at his hands. “Thank you.”

“Aw, Leo,” Haley put her hands on his cheeks. “You’re looking good. I’m so glad, you boys are looking so good, I was…I was worried there.” Then her eyes caught on someone behind Leo and Remus looked to see. “Kasey Winter, what the hell are you standing all the way over there for? I see those shy eyes of yours looking at me.”

Kasey came over in his usual, almost sheepish way. Remus felt a pang go through him, thinking back to seeing that expression just over an hour ago, trying to be strong.

“How you doing?” She had her hands on his face like she had with Leo. “You okay?”

“I’m okay.” Kasey nodded.

“Hm.” Her eyes went over his face. “You know Alexander never shuts up about you.”

“I don’t think I shut up about him, either.” Kasey’s eyes went to Remus’ for a moment. “At least not in my head.”

“Good.”

Remus smiled. He looked over at Sirius. He had been going to ask if they were joining the others at the bar, but the look on Sirius’ face stopped him in his tracks. He was staring at the O’Hara family, grey eyes without walls. It was such a rare sight that Remus reached out for him without thinking, put his hand on Sirius’. Sirius blinked, watched Haley O’Hara lean up for Finn to whisper something in her ear, watched the way she put her hand over her heart and looked up at her son with that heart written all over her face.

“I’m fine,” Sirius said. “I just—wonder sometimes. About—I mean, if I had had…”

“I know.” Remus rubbed his thumb over Sirius’ knuckles.

Sirius squeezed his hand before clearing his throat and standing, reaching for his shirt.

“Hello, mon fils.” And Pascal was there suddenly, arm going around Sirius’ shoulders, squeezing tightly. “Going out with the boys?”

Sirius swallowed, leaned into Pascal a little, then nodded. “Ouais, we’re going.”

Remus thought about what he’d said to Kasey. They were all so young. And he suddenly wanted his family there. He wanted to see Julian for more than a few weekends a year and a month and a half in the summers. He had an almost aching want for a family with Sirius. And everything, all the time that came with that. It knocked his gaze unsteady for a moment. He looked at James, who was on the phone with Lily, one AirPod in and laughing as he did up his game suit tie.

“Put him on,” James was saying. “Harry totally knows what icing means, Lils!”

Remus smiled and reached for his towel to dry his hair one more time, only the room erupted around him. Logan and Alex had walked in. Alex immediately ran at Finn, dodging around his parents to put his little brother into a headlock.

“Ugh, Alex—” Finn scrabbled at Alex’s grip. “No—Mom.”

“Alexander, release your brother, he won fair and square.”

Leo, who had his arms around Logan, laughed as Logan imitated Finn. “Mom.”

“Ooh, it’s Tremblay,” Evgeni said, knocking Logan’s hat down over his eyes as he passed by, already dressed. “Big bad Ranger boy. We smush you. Smush.”

Jackson, behind him, righted his hat with a pat. “See you at the bar? What’s it called—uh, something-something?”

“Sure,” Alex called, still with a fighting Finn under his arm. “I’ll have Logan put it in the group chat.”

“Finn reached up to wack blindly at Alex’s face. “C’mon, man.”

Finally, laughing, Alex released him and accepted a hug from his mother. With access to Finn now, Logan gave him a shove.

“You fucker.”

“Tremblay,” Alex said, arm around Haley. “Language around my mother.”

Haley scoffed. “Oh, please.”

Remus laughed with the room just as his phone started ringing. A photo of Julian’s nostrils popped up beneath his name and Remus shook his head.

“When did you do that…” he muttered to himself, and then answered. “Hey, bud.”

“Such a good game! And—so weird that Tremzy? But like so cool to see him and Finn, like, like—battle for it. And also good goal! With Harzy. Really pretty.”

“Hi, sweetheart,” his mother’s voice came. “Oh, yes, we just went wild!”

“Hey, thanks,” Remus smiled. “Yeah, it was pretty weird.” He glanced over to where Finn had his hands up in surrender still, half talking, half laughing as Logan spoke a mile-a-minute in French.

“I wanna talk to Sirius,” Julian said matter-of-factly.

“Ooh, yes, put Sirius on for a moment. I have a wedding idea.”

“That you can’t tell me?”

“It’s about you! Hand him over!”

Remus rolled his eyes, but smiled as he nudged the phone at Sirius. “Jules and my mother demand your attention.”

Sirius looked down from where he had finished up half the buttons of his shirt, eyes going happy. “Give it.” He wedged the phone between his shoulder and cheek as he finished the buttons. “Ça va, Jules? Avez-vous regardé le match?”

Remus felt all warm inside at how slowly he spoke. Julian had started learning French in school, and Remus could hear his OUI! from where he was.

Sirius smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling, as he listened to them.

See? Remus mouthed, and Sirius just reached out to stroke through the wet hair at the base of his neck. Remus leaned into it and listened for a few moments as Sirius replied to whatever Julian or his mother was saying. Soft hums and sounds of agreement until he finally said, with a wicked grin at Remus, “Don’t worry, I won’t say anything.”

Remus flicked him in the ribs.

“Non, not flying home,” Sirius said. “We’re going to hang out with Logan and some of the Rangers because we miss him.”

“I heard that!” Logan called over.

“Just a little!” Sirius called back, then held the phone in his hand, suit jacket over his arm. “Okay, Jules. Okay, I’ll tell him. Good night.” He laughed. “Yes, I know. Okay. Okay. Ouais, okay.” Remus put a palm to his forehead, shaking his head as Sirius tried to hid his laugh. “Okay, yes. Got it. Ouais, promise. Okay. Okay, night.”

Sirius handed the phone back to Remus. “I don’t want him to grow up any more.”

Remus sighed and accepted Sirius’ gentle kiss. “Me neither.”

~

The bar was loud and dim, with seemingly endless worn booths and many pool tables— also, everyone seemed to know Alex. The bartenders, two middle-aged women in black tank-tops and a sun and moon tattoo on their upper left arms that had to go together, each gave him long, hard hugs. Kasey, too, which Remus shouldn’t have been surprised about. The walls were plastered with photographs of the two women with different players—Rangers and otherwise. Above the bar was a great big sign: No Autographs, No Pictures. If We See A Flash—You’re OUT!

Remus smiled. He could see why Alex liked it here. Public, but no where they’d be mobbed should it come to that.

“I guess you’ve been coming here a long time,” Sirius said, coming to Kasey’s shoulder.

“Oh, yeah, Cap. Since the old days.”

“My Lord,” one of the women said—thick braided hair that was died pink at the ends and tied back in a long twist. She had soft eyes, russet-brown skin, and she stood tall like a dancer. “Kasey Winter, you have brought Sirius Black into my bar. Finally.”

Kasey just laughed and tapped Sirius’ chest. “Sirius, meet Holly, and that’s her wife Jude over there.” He nodded towards a woman with a blond pixie cut and green eyes that were almost as startling as Logan’s. She stood with one hand in her back pocket, pale skin covered in various tattoos. She was laughing at something Evgeni was saying before replying in Russian.

Remus thought Sirius looked a little overwhelmed by it all. He drew his gaze away from the surprisingly big space and towards Holly with one of his shyer smiles. “Nice to meet you.”

She laughed, a contagious thing. “You really are a formal one.”

Kasey rolled his eyes. “Not really.” He reached around Sirius to put a hand on Remus’ shoulder. “This is Remus.”

“Hi there,” Remus said. “This is an amazing place you’ve got here.”

“Oh, thank you, darling.” She reached over the bar and put her hand on Remus’. “You know, my wife grew up in your hometown. We followed your story all through college. We were so sorry when that nasty Grayback…He should have been banned from the League a long time ago. God, and then everything with that fucking Snake team. And I know we don’t know each other but we feel a lot of pride about you.” She gave a hard nod.

That nasty Grayback. Remus had never actually heard anyone blame him before. “I—oh. Wow.”

“I’m proud, too.” Sirius’ arm found his waist and Remus was so, so grateful.

“Sharmall.” Remus jumped a little at a very much higher-pitched version of Finn’s voice.

“A’Horo,” came the response from Percy Marshall, already standing with Alex and Will Morgan at a pool table.

Remus watched as Finn, coming in with Logan and Leo, all but launched himself at Percy, and he couldn’t have deciphered the noises that came out of their mouths if he wanted to.

“You fucking M&M! Fucking snack!” Percy held Finn’s face between his hands. “Treat you a two? A three? Crack the egg.”

Finn shook him by the shoulders. “Fuckin’ crack it.”

“Do you…understand this?” Remus asked Logan, who was greeted by Holly by a very loving and rather comforting hand on his cheek.

Logan was just shaking his head. “Yes. Only because I was there.”

“And?” Leo asked, looking just as bewildered as Remus.

“They’re going to have beers,” Logan said. “And they’re saying hello.”

Leo blinked. “I—okay.”

“I told you,” Logan said. “They’re crazy together.” He sighed, smile exasperated, and looked to Holly. “Hi, Hol. Sorry about them.”

“Oh, we’ve seen worse.” She held up her hands and poured Logan a drink—quick shot of rum, crack of a coke bottle. “Sorry about the loss, honeybee.” Her eyes moved to Leo. “And don’t I know who this is. Congrats on the win.”

Logan accepted the drink with a smile, and put his arm around Leo’s waist. “This is my boyfriend. Leo.”

Remus watched the way Leo’s expression caught, surprise and something so bright that Remus could barely look at it.

Holly pressed her lips together in a smile. “Hi, sweetheart. Can I pour you something? I can’t tell. All thought I couldn’t tell with Tremblay here, either. Jude googled him—ha!”

Leo nodded, hand going to his wallet. “I can—do you want…”

“I believe you.” She cracked the cold bottle from the fridge that Sirius has asked for. “Some of the older boys try to bring in the rookies sometimes. They know they can’t get passed us, though.”

Remus turned to look up at Sirius while the others moved onto the game from that night. Sirius shuffled him down the bar a little ways before tapping a stool for Remus to sit on so that they were eye-to-eye.

“Okay?” Sirius asked quietly.

“Yeah, totally.” Sirius looked at him and Remus smiled, put a hand on his chest. “I really am. I promise. It just—his name takes me off guard. I was surprised—most people just go sorry about the hit, not—you know. Not like he meant it. Not like—I know no one knows what really…happened. But it was nice to hear someone get close.”

Remus took a breath, realized he was rambling. He rolled his shoulder a little. It would never move quite in the way it used to, scar tissue and stress, but he was lucky.

Sirius nodded quietly. “Ouais. I see.”

Remus straightened, smiling when he saw Evgeni hurtling towards them, pushing right through Finn and Percy to do it.

“Hey, Kuns,” Remus said.

“Loops.” Evgeni put his hands up, one holding a beer. Who knew where his jacket was but his tie was barely hanging onto his neck and his shirt was unbuttoned almost all the way, showing some of his tattoos. “The party is me.”

Remus raised his eyebrow, but nodded. “Sure is.”

“Cap,” Finn said, tugging Evgeni’s tie up to catch over his face. “Percy insists I introduce you properly, whatever the hell that means.”

“Hello.” Percy looked star-struck as he shook Sirius’ hand. “Sir.”

Remus tried to bite back a smile but Finn snorted. “Perc, what the fuck.”

Percy was pink around his ears. “Hello, not sir.”

Sirius just smiled wryly. “Hi…”

“I love you,” Percy said plainly.

“Okay, that’s enough.” Finn put an arm around Percy’s shoulders to steer him away. “And you’re not even drunk, I forgot how fucking weird you are.” He pressed a sloppy kiss to Percy’s temple. “Fuckin’ M&M.”

“Kit-Kat.”

“Jolly Rancher.”

Remus hid his laugh in Sirius’ chest, where he felt the rumble of Sirius’ own. Sirius’ palm came up to cover the back of Remus’ neck, thumb stroking gently.

“Loup,” Sirius said softly beneath the music playing. “Something made you sad earlier, though.”

“What? Oh. Yeah,” Remus smiled a little, pleased at the way Sirius was pressing so close. “I can’t actually say. It’s not about me.” His eyes went to Kasey. “You’ll know soon.” Sirius’ eyes followed his. “You probably already do.”

Sirius looked for a long time. Alex and Kasey, sitting snug in a booth together, looking like they were having a soft, earnest conversation. Kasey might have been crying a little, but they were laughing, too, and Alex touched their foreheads together.

“Ouais…” Sirius said finally.

Remus smoothed his hands up Sirius’ chest, around to clasp behind his neck. “I like this. I like us all together again.”

He looked at Pascal, Thomas, and Leo, standing and watching Finn, Will, and Logan saying something that sounded like it was about Harvard. Percy was beside Leo, seemingly whispering extra details into his ear.

“Speaking of sad earlier,” Remus said, and tilted Sirius’ face back towards his own. “I saw you watching the O’Hara’s—or A’Horo’s now, I guess.” Sirius half smiled, thumb still tracing lines down Remus’ neck. “Our families are yours. Especially mine. Okay? All of us…even some fucking Rangers.”

Sirius barely had time to smile when, as if on cue, Holly announced the arrival of a few more.

“Saint Montague,” she said, voice somehow carrying over it all. “Get your ass over here, sweetheart.”

“Monty!” Percy called as Saint came in, followed close by Luke Deveaux, whose eyes went immediately to Sirius and Remus, tangled up.

Saint put a palm up to Percy. “Nope.”

Percy let out something close to a cackled ha! and turned back to Leo.

Saint was really something to behold, Remus had to admit—by Sirius’ face, he could tell Sirius had to admit it, too. He had tan skin and hair that had been streaked blond—it was a strange cross between angelic and something akin to punk. Remus caught Sirius’ eye, whose mouth quirked. They watched as Holly clasped his hand, saying his drink was on the house—sorry about the game, darling, I know how you hate to lose.

Saint gave off an air of arrogance that should have dulled the effect. His chin tilted like he knew just how good he was. But it didn’t dull anything. Especially not when his light, liquid sun eyes looked Remus up and down once. “Lupin.”

“Montague.”

His eyes flicked to Sirius with a challenging little smirk. “Black.”

Sirius only nodded. Saint’s eyes went back to Remus.

“Pretty little things you do on that ice.”

Remus arched a brow. “Thanks…Good game.”

“It was fine. I’ve had better.”

“Obviously,” Sirius muttered.

Remus glanced up at him and Sirius huffed, but only took a drink of his beer.

Saint just smiled, then looked back at Luke as he called Holly over again. “You want something, Tweedle?”

Luke simply nodded and came to his side, leaning against the bar and watching Saint’s profile as he ordered for the both of them. Sirius glanced at Remus again. Remus would do anything for Sirius to keep sending him those little silent communication looks.

Be nice, Remus mouthed.

“You know,” Saint said, turning to Sirius. “Your boy was pretty wrecked when he first got here.” He looked towards Logan.

Sirius blinked. “Logan’s trade was a surprise.”

“Yeah, even we can agree to that,” Saint nodded. “But all I’m saying to you is that…” Saint hesitated. He looked down at Luke, then back to Sirius. “He’s doing okay now.”

“I know.”

“We’re good people.”

“Never said you weren’t.”

Saint laughed and rolled his eyes before throwing an arm around Luke’s shoulders and steering him away. “So stop looking at us like we’re just a bunch of Rangers! Oh—” He looked over his shoulder. “But we are going to have to do something about him calling you Captain all the time in our room.”

“No deal,” Sirius said.

Saint laughed again, but turned away.

“Meanie, Captain.” Remus smiled, knocking his knuckles lightly into Sirius’ arm.

“I love Logan,” Sirius said in a low voice, taking a drink. “But we are still hanging out with a bunch of Rangers.”

“What do you want, Tremz?” Remus heard Finn call from across the bar. “Another round, I’m buying.”

“You know what I want!”

“Bleh, sugar-water,” Finn said, then grabbed Leo’s hand and pulled him between the tables. Leo barely had time to let Logan take his drink from his hand and send a laugh over his shoulder. Finn spun Leo around a few times before settling his hands on Leo’s hips and resting him against the bar, murmuring something gentle to him. Remus smiled at Leo’s smile.

“Do you think they’re going to be okay?”

Remus looked up at Sirius, who had something akin to his game face on—maybe a little more worried.

“We were okay.”

“Yes.”

“And we’re okay now.”

Sirius looked down at him. He was biting at the inside of his cheek. “Yes.”

“Yes.” Remus reached up and stroked a thumb over the taut cheek until Sirius relaxed. “They’re getting to choose.”

“That doesn’t mean everything’s going to be in their control.”

“They know that, I think.”

Sirius nodded. “Ouais…”

“Cap!”

They looked up at Logan’s voice—met Saint’s pointed look on the way—and watched Logan wave at him, standing with Pascal.

“Come here. I want you in this photo.”

“Oh, of the night we beat you?” Sirius called back, but he was smiling, slipping out of Remus’ arms. Remus just shook his head and watched him go. “I thought we weren’t allowed photos?”

Logan rolled his eyes. “Yeah, but we’re the ones taking them.” He gave Sirius’ suit jacket a tug, surprising Sirius into one of his real smiles, so that Percy could snap the picture.

Everyone seemed reluctant to leave—reluctant to have enough drinks to risk a hungover flight or practice tomorrow, but reluctant to leave all the same. Neither Holly or Jude seemed to mind that they all ended up just sitting around a pool table, rolling some of the balls back and forth across the felt mindlessly and laughing much too loudly, though the bar was emptying out.

It stirred a fond memory from college for Remus—something that didn’t happen often. It even included Grayback. Something that happened even less. There had been a blizzard, power out, locked down in their team houses, four peanut butter and jelly sandwiches each, and with a mission to drink the cold beer before it got warm.

Remus looked around from his place settled between Sirius and Thomas. Evgeni was trying to tell a story that was half in Russian and Jackson was giving what was sure to be a very wrong translation until Saint finally raised a finger and said he spoke Russian. This resulted in a very sloppy kiss on his cheek from Evgeni. Luke might have scooted Saint’s chair a little closer to himself.

Logan and Finn had Leo between them, touches casual and happy. Percy and Will had had the table in fits telling Harvard stories, and Kasey had actually put his full, large palm over Alex’s mouth to stop him from telling an old story from them being on the Rangers together.

It felt like a family. And Remus had had that feeling in college. A sickish wave of fear washed over him then. He didn’t want now to feel like then, promising that anything could go horribly wrong. He looked at Sirius, but he was turned away, talking to Alex. Remus shifted, wished he had some water. Remus felt a nudge from his right.

“Heyo,” Thomas said softly. “What’s up?”

Remus shook his head. “Nothing.” He smiled. Took a breath. “Nothing. I just…I love this.”

“Hurts sometimes, huh?”

Remus huffed out a relieved laugh. “Yeah. Exactly, T.”

Thomas put an arm around his shoulders, across the back of his chair. “I got you, Loops. We all got you.”

From his other side, Sirius kept talking to Alex, but he seemed to hear. He put his hand on Remus’ knee, warm and familiar.

“Ooh, I took his spot,” Thomas mock-whispered, and Remus laughed.

“No,” Remus said. He felt more grounded. He would enjoy this. He was enjoying this. “You stay right where you are.”

~

Logan had watched how close Finn held Leo, hands on his hips. Their heads ducked together, cheek to cheek. Right there in the middle of the crowd. Each time he had looked over, Logan had gotten different views. Finn saying something, Leo’s eyes closing as he laughed, Finn ducking to press a soft kiss to Leo’s neck. Leo sending him a wink over Finn’s shoulder, Finn grinning at him over Leo’s.

And then Leo had leaned into Logan’s side, ducked down to whisper in his ear. Take us home.

God, this place, his New York apartment, called home in Leo’s voice.

Now, Logan kept Finn close, his back against Finn’s chest as they leaned against his kitchen counter to watch Leo open his fridge, and let out a long sigh at the empty shelves.

“Oh, Tremblay. Tremblay, Tremblay, Tremblay.” He picked up an unopened bottle of ketchup and stared at it sadly. “As my mama would say, this is just asking for trouble.”

“I’m sorry?” Logan said.

“What are you eating?”

“At the rink.”

“We’ve FaceTimed, though! You bought stuff! I walked around the grocery store in your hand, they have the lettuce you like and everything.”

“Ouais…I do better when you give me really good instructions.”

Leo sent him a bland look around the door. “You need really good instructions to buy lettuce?”

“I make egg and ham sandwiches?”

Leo turned to the stove where there was still evidence of said sandwich on a spatula and pan. He made a face. “Remind me to get you a spoon rest.”

“Okay,” Logan laughed, and then tilted his head to the side to give Finn more room where he was beginning to kiss his neck.

“Kitchen looks good, though. From what I was expecting.” Leo opened a few barren cupboards and made a hmm noise.

“But I hang the towels up,” Logan said, and Finn’s answering snicker washed over his skin warmly. “And, regarde, the key bowl. By the door.”

“You don’t even have your tea,” Leo’s frowned was actually concerned now. “Lo.”

“I don’t know,” Logan sighed. He tucked himself back against Finn more. “It’s not…”

But what did he want to say? It’s not the same? That’s for at home. But this was supposed to be his home.

“It’s okay, baby,” Finn said softly, pressing gentle kisses to his jaw that bled into one another, into his words, too.

“No,” Leo said. “No, this is his home, Finn. I want him to have the things he likes here.” Leo looked over at them, and his expression softened. Finn held out his hand for him, and Leo took it, letting Finn pull him in, peppering his jaw in those same kisses. Leo smiled, hands going to thread in both Logan and Finn’s hair.

“I did have it. At one point. I guess I just…” Logan took a breath, and Finn when to speak but Leo put a hand over his mouth, making them all laugh. Logan sighed and knocked his forehead against Leo’s chest. “If I don’t have too many things, then it’s not…” 

“I get it,” Leo said, and then released Finn and bent to press a soft kiss to his mouth. “They should call you Talker.”

“Sorry, sorry.” Finn said. “But Leo’s right. This should feel homey. Otherwise why would we come and visit?”

Logan scoffed and elbowed him in the ribs.

“Ouch, Tremblay.”

“Oh, non. Don’t even get me started again on the ice today.” Logan rolled his eyes.

“Hey, don’t shoot the messenger. Blame Coach.”

Leo snorted. “Oh, Coach told you pin Lo up all hot and heavy?”

Finn just grinned. “I’d call it being willing to play the corners, but you can call it whatever you like, Nutter-Butter.”

Leo just shook his head, laughing. “C’mon. I want out of this fucking suit.”

“That can be arranged.” Finn looked down at Logan as Leo wandered towards Logan’s bedroom, peaking none too subtly into the bathroom on his way. Finn tugged on Logan’s tie. “Sorry. I should let you talk.”

“Don’t be,” Logan said. “You’re still not used to it.” He smiled. “Me neither.”

Finn laughed. “Guess so. Come on. Show me the Tremblay Chamber.”

“Stop with the last name,” Logan laughed, but took his hand and pulled him up from the counter. “Makes it feel like you’re still on the other team.”

“Logan,” Finn said in his ear, still close to his back as they walked. “Lolo.”

“Non.”

He dropped to a whisper. “Lo, baby.”

Logan just glanced at him, biting back a smile.

“Yeah, you like that.” Finn’s voice was cocky as they pushed the bedroom door open to find Leo seeming to be checking Logan’s lightbulbs on his bedside tables. “Okay, Leonardo. What is happening.”

“These pre-furnished places come with harsh lights sometimes! Like the cool toned ones, like a hotel—” Leo ducked down to see beneath the shade. “Logan likes the yellower warm ones.”

Logan’s heart squeezed. “Le, the light’s fine.”

“No, they’re cool and you will just live with it. Okay, tea and lightbulbs.” Leo straightened, shrugging out of his suit jacket. “That’s my list so far. Oh, no, spoon rest. I should write this down.”

“No, you should sit down,” Finn said. He nodded towards the bed. “There, right there. Go on. Sit, and I’ll give you a fun surprise.”

Leo look suspicious, but he sat on the edge of Logan’s bed. Finn turned Logan around by his shoulders and walked him backwards until he fell back into Leo’s lap. Logan laughed, but rested his head back against Leo’s shoulder.

“A good surprise,” Leo said softly, and kissed the underside of Logan’s chin.

Finn lowered himself to one knee in front of Logan. “All this Rangers blue…” Finn tisked his tongue. He smoothed his hands up Logan’s thighs, the material of his suit catching against his fingers. “Even made it into your socks and tie.” Finn looked up at him. “That has Alex written all over it.”

Logan took a steadying breath. “He, um—took me to his tailor.”

“I bet he did.” Finn kissed the inside of his knee. “And he had to trace this inseam…” Finn’s mouth trailed up his strong thigh, hand against his knee. “Lucky human.”

Logan couldn’t help spreading his legs a little, eyes on Finn’s mouth. Leo adjusted behind him, feet tucked back and knees against Logan’s hips.

“It is a nice suit.” Leo’s hands went to the navy blue tie in question and gave it a little tug. “But I think we should take it off of him now.”

Finn’s hands went to Logan’s belt and he did a little whistle to the tune of it’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas as slid the leather free from its buckle.

Logan let out a soft laugh, leaning back into Leo as he slid the tie out from around his throat. “Shh.”

The nights were lonely. Logan always felt himself as the lone weight in his bed acutely, like he was sinking into it. It had been even been worse in his dorm bed, at Harvard. Narrow space, no room for anyone but him. He’d curled into himself, back against the window with the rattling AC. Finn, oceans away on the other side of the room, breathing and shifting and talking until neither of them could keep their eyes open. Laughing too loud and Percy banging on his ceiling to get them to shut up.

And then Finn’s bed, in his parents’ New York brownstone. Bigger. Stepping over the air mattress on the floor in the morning. Him and Leo sharing a hotel room on the road, each with their own double bed. Wishing so hard to throw off his own covers and just—just climb in and close those inches of ugly hotel carpet between them, sleep turned into Leo’s chest instead of trying to block out the blaring red numbers of the clocks on their respective bedside tables.

And now there was this. Leo behind him, unbuttoning his shirt from his shoulders like it was some sacred rite. Finn coaxing him into lifting his hips off of the bed, the jingle of his belt hitting the floor. Hot mouth around him, Leo’s fingers against his ribs, mouth on his neck, the weight of Finn’s elbows pressing into the mattress around him.

“Got one past me tonight,” Leo said in his ear. “You know I don’t let things like that go.”

Finn’s mouth was replaced by his hot cheek on his thigh as he laughed, breathless. “I thought no hockey in bed.”

The pillows behind Logan’s neck felt cool and gentle when they lay him back against them. He didn’t have to ask to watch them shed their clothes, too. And when Finn eased him back when he tried to help with his buttons, his large hands pressing against his chest, Logan thought of the boards. Finn pressed up against him, Leo all the way on the other side of the ice, what if I closed the distance? That thought that had circled in his mind a million times, for both of them. What if I came to them?

Finally, he had.

“Hold me,” Logan said, breath shaky through the words.

Leo just smiled into their next kiss, unbuttoning his own shirt. “We are.”

“Non.” Logan took Finn’s hand that was cradling the side of his neck and moved it down a little, to the front of his chest so that the V between Finn’s thumb and forefinger was settled just over where his collarbones dipped apart in the center, where Finn could feel his pounding heart. Finn’s lips were wet and parted as he watched Logan put his own hand over Finn’s and press down on his chest, watched his eyes go hooded with it.

Finn’s expression did a complicated thing. He applied a little pressure of his own, barely even at all, but Logan felt it in his chest, let his eyes close with it. It was good. It meant they were there.

He put his fingers around Finn’s wrist and guided his hand down more firmly.

“Ah.” Finn grinned, eyes going to Leo who had made another hmm noise, not dissimilar to his one from the kitchen. “I see.”

“I miss it. Please.” He used his feet to press Finn’s hips harder against his own and looked to Leo. “Please, I miss you so bad at night. I miss you so bad at night.”

“Aw, Tremz,” Leo said softly.

And just like that it was back. Tonight had been so happy. But reality was still in the room.

They didn’t let him linger in it. Leo’s kiss was short and sweet, hard enough to draw Logan to him as he pressed up all along Logan’s side. Leo let Logan guide his fingers carefully to where Finn’s were. He lay each one in the spaces between Finn’s, right over his heart. “We’re right here.”

Logan let out a harsh breath, tilting his chin back, giving Leo room. Leo leaned down and brushed his lips against Logan’s cheek. “Good?”

“Ouais, ouais—” Logan could barely stand that look in Leo’s eyes. It was as good as seeing the intensity of their blue through the mask. Better. “So good.”

Logan’s necklace glinted around Leo’s throat, pooled by their joined hands on Logan’s chest as Leo leaned over to kiss him.

“God, Lo, look at you,” Leo breathed, drawing Logan closer like he needed it. “Okay, maybe I’ll let the goal go. Was gonna make you wait for it but…just for tonight.”

“First kiss day,” Finn added, and Logan grinned into the next kiss he received.

The held him together, on either side, even when their hands made him feel like he was unraveling. Finn’s hand slipped away from his chest, down, down. Slick and fiery and steady, pulling his hips up in time with their movements like he couldn’t help it. The tension of the game melted away, right out of his muscles. Leo’s hand stayed right where it was, making his heart feel like it was pounding against something more than just himself, like it was trying to knock down whatever skin and bone was left between them. Logan didn’t remember locking his hand around Leo’s wrist, but he did, he held on even as Leo’s mouth bled any strength out of him, throat bared as Leo kissed him gentle and calm against the pile of pillows behind them.

He didn’t feel alone. It was such a relief.

When Finn got as close as he could, Logan was warm. Heavy against the sheets. Finn bent over Logan in a rush, arms scooping under Logan’s back this time, one pressing just above his ass, holding them together like he wanted to knock it all down, too.

Logan could only wrap his arm around Finn’s back in return, the other still locked on Leo. It brought Finn close, his stomach rubbing up against Logan’s cock perfectly, the scent of his sweat heavy on Logan’s tongue where his mouth was pressed into the hair that curled against Finn’s neck.

“Yeah, you like that,” Finn whispered gently, pressing a kiss to Logan’s jaw. “You like this, always have.” When Finn began to grind into him, it was shaky and needy. He barely pulled away at all, but Logan didn’t want him to. He opened his mouth against Finn’s skin, breathing hard, pressing his teeth into Finn’s skin gently to muffle the low sounds he was making.

“Leo,” Finn managed, voice tight, then at Logan’s teeth, laugh shaky. “Ouch, Lo.”

Leo laughed, too, smoothing Logan’s hand into his own and kissing his knuckles before ducking to get at Finn’s neck and shoulders, too. Logan caught his mouth in a sloppy kiss, trailed his hand down Leo’s chest until he could take him in hand.

“Did I mention you scored on me?” Leo’s brows drew together at the feeling, forehead resting on Finn’s should. “And—ah…I don’t forgive easily.”

“Ouais,” Logan said, voice sounding shot to his own ears. “I’ll make it up to you.”

Logan eased Finn off of him with a lingering kiss, a sigh at the loss, but Leo was plains and stretches of pale, bare skin flushed pink.

Logan had missed them, but they had missed him, too.

Logan straddled Leo’s hips, feeling how badly Leo wanted him, feeling the arch of Leo’s back as they pressed together. They kissed and kissed, Logan’s palms against Leo’s chest this time, then his neck and jaw, smoothing his hair back. He pushed his hips down again, and again until Leo was muttering urgent sounds and gripping his hip, keeping him still as he spilled needy and white between them.

Logan kissed over the sweat at his temple, lips parted in something between a smile, triumphant, and a need of his own. Finn was there, then, soothing the tremors in their bodies.

“I missed you, too,” Logan heard Finn murmur into Leo’s mouth.

Logan knew he would live in this moment until the next one like it came. It would be where he fell back to, when he needed something to weight him down and ground him, whenever the changes became too much. He couldn’t have said where he stopped and they began. He didn’t know the hours, he didn’t know the degree of light in the sky. He knew their skin, and their laughs, and brown and blue, red and yellow. Getting up in the pitch black just to come back and find both of them there. A memory for later, though it’d make him sad more than anything. He’d paused by the window, where the moon fell on them. He got up again to see the same sight in the blue light of the early morning. He just wanted the feeling of settling back in between them, their mindless sleepy hands finding him without trying. A glimpse of blue, Leo pulling him closer, who’s sleepless now? Finn, hearing their voices. His warm palms going around Logan’s wrists, pinning them above his head, hips settling together again, again, again.

Logan was tired, but not of this.

Leo, scrambling eggs at his stove, singing softly along to the music playing on his phone. Finn, sleepy at the counter, tennis ball beneath his foot, rolling out sore arches. Daylight. Logan left the room just so he could come back in and see them there.

He’d leave again, later, kissing them goodbye right there on the sunny sidewalk. He’d come back in to no one in his kitchen, the bed a mess. Practice in two hours. It was funny, as he stared at himself in the mirror brushing his teeth, how he looked so rested after no sleep. It wasn’t as funny how part of him had managed to convince himself that he was going to see them every night, like his body had needed to put that on a loop in his mind in order for him to enjoy it so much. But no, tomorrow they were just playing the Stars.

Twelve hours had barely passed than did Logan come home from a practice to find an express package waiting at his door, addressed in Leo’s handwriting. Inside was a box of his mint tea with a great big smiley face drawn on it in sharpie, and a set of lightbulbs. Logan smiled and set his kettle on.

[morningday]

Cold Americano.

Part 2. Ice cubes in a cup.

Thomas motioned to come into the apartment. Empty, cold and lonely. The woman moved here a few months ago. The mortgage ties, the financial issues that needed to be addressed urgently. If she accumulates a lot of bills, the bank will take the apartment as payment. The man noticed it right away. If the trial starts, she won't be able to pay her debts. That's enough for the little snot-nosed girl to learn in her little brain where she shouldn't dig.

The Shelby brothers look at the interior of the room with interest. They think the woman who lives here is a creepy pedant obsessed with cleanliness and minimalism. There are no colors, no bright accents in the interior, not even pictures of the mistress. Clothes in the closet are hung by color, each jacket and sweater on its own hanger. The trash can is empty. There's only vegetables and sealed meat in the fridge.

Thomas didn't care what kind of underwear a woman wore. Its main purpose is to search for documents, checks and letters. Of course, he wants to wait for his mistress to come home and talk to her. But he also wants to walk away with physical evidence against his company. Moving from drawer to drawer, he finds nothing but shoe brushes, miscellaneous waste paper, and garbage. He frowns slightly when he comes across the trauma gun in the book. Arthur, Isaiah and John sat down on the gray sofa. Michael stared out the window for a long time, hiding in his thoughts. His lips are dry. And the eyes look lost. Thomas walks over and stands next to his nephew while he smokes a cigarette.

"Did you find anything?" the man asked. Cold blue eyes look at the young man. The boys face showed complete indifference and serenity.

"It seems that there were never any documents here and we are wasting our time", replies Michael, panting heavily. He's making eye contact with Thomas. Their silent dialogue is interrupted after a few seconds.

"Hey, Tommy, when's the mistress coming?" Arthur’s voice comes from the living room. Thomas silently pulls out his pocket watch: "There's half an hour left. I suggest you look harder. I feel the documents are in this house. Michael lights a cigarette and smiles slightly. He thinks the situation is absurd. The creepy gang from Small Heath, looking for papers in some girl's apartment. Tommy's got a plan that everyone's following, but Gray doesn't agree with it.

"Why look when you can settle everything in court?" the young man suddenly asked. Cigarette ash is falling on the gray parquet. Cigarette smoke is gonna be around for a long time. Shelby's smoking a cigarette and smoking it on a plate on the table.

"You can always make a deal, Michael." the last thing a man says before he leaves the kitchen.

The search for important documents was not successful. There were no clues as to where the papers might be. The mood of the conversation depended on the success of the mission and Thomas' mood. Around five, Michael got into his car without waiting for a negotiation.

Meanwhile, the woman was returning home. Her hands were occupied with a bag of groceries and a glass of unfinished Americano. The cool wind blew across her face, ruining her makeup. But even so, her mood was light. The guy held the door down when she walked into the apartment building. The woman politely smiled at him, ignoring the fact that she had seen him before. Michael puts his hand in the pocket of his coat, where the crushed evidence letters are.

She's climbing the stairs to the second floor. Besides her apartment, there were two other apartments next door. A married couple who fight all the time. But the one who lived in the third apartment had never seen a woman. It was strange that such a nice apartment in a quiet neighborhood disappears without a host. When the woman enters the apartment, she turns on the lights. The smell of tobacco immediately gets into your nose. She frowns as she walks into the kitchen. A cigarette was smoldering in the bowl, and her heart was beating faster. A bag and a cup of coffee fall from her hands as she collides with the male figure from behind. She a squeak before her mouth is covered with a rough palm.

"Hello, Y/N", he leans over to her ear. "I'll take my hand away, and we'll talk quietly, okay? No shouting."