#that place was my childhood so it’s very nostalgic

[quinnylouhughesx43]

Believe in Me — jh86

summary: in which the summer following Jack’s rookie year is coming to an end. Not only did his rookie year come with being shafted by the league as the biggest bust, but he managed to get painted as the biggest (and newest) playboy of the league. His personal management team, the team’s management, and PR step in to clear this all up, but it takes work from Jack.

warnings/points of importance: use of y/n, fem!reader x jack, use of nicknames for female character and for Jack, fake dating trope, oblivious pining trope(?), childhood friends, minor usage of foul language, creation of side original characters for plot, time jumps, memories inserted - tumblr’s intention and italics used to notate, inner thoughts marked with ‘..’ and italicized if they occur

word count: 4.32

notes: any names used for original characters that relate to someone’s name or closely relate to a person’s name is purely by happenstance. The names were rolled by random from a generator where I inserted random first and last names.

© property of quinnylouhughesx43 ; do not copy and re-upload as your own - anywhere. do not place my work inside AI codes, do not translate.

Y/n sat cross-legged on the worn wooden planks of the back porch swing, her eyes following the lazy dance of the sunset as it descended behind the distant tree line. Her childhood home had changed so little over the years, the same comforting embrace of familiarity wrapped around her like a warm blanket on a chilly evening. The porch swing squeaked in a soothing rhythm as both her and Jack slowly swung, a nostalgic tune that had serenaded countless summer nights spent sharing secrets and laughter with Jack. The only other kid who had been in her grade when she moved in, well really one of the only other neighborhood children. The other two children in the neighborhood were his brothers. All three of which had become as much a part of her life as the very foundation of the house she grew up in.

She had spent all day out with his family by the pool, her mother insisted he come to their house for dinner though. Nothing to offer course for their life, well a year ago it wouldn’t have been.

"Do you want to talk about your new headline?" Y/n tried to hold back the hint of amusement in her tone but failed miserably. Jack's rookie season had just come to an end before the beginning of summer. In just a few months he had gone from the talk of the league as the number one draft pick to talk of the league as a "bust."

He was nothing close to a bust. It was just how the year fell.

Jack leaned back in the swing, the sun's final strokes of light for the day painting his cheekbones. He sighed; a heavy exhale filled with the weight of the rumors that had been following him like a dark shadow. "It's just how it's going to be now. You know how it is with the media. They're desperate to find a new angle to keep me going." There were a few moments of silence shared between them before he found the words to continue. "First, it's all about my game, how I'm not scoring enough or I'm not this hotshot star that every analyst built me up to be. Season ends and it's about my supposed love life." His voice was a mix of annoyance and defeat. He was used to being the center of attention, truthfully he strived to be in the center of attention. He just wasn't used to it always being negative attention.

"To be it all, I have this video chat meeting with public relations, franchise management, and my management team about some idea they have come up with to help bring attention away from everything." Jack groaned. "We have three days left of the summer before we drive back to Jersey, I don't want to spend one of them in meetings."

Y/n nodded sympathetically, placing a comforting hand on his forearm and leaning herself over on him. "It's okay, bubs. Maybe it's nothing too serious." But she could tell from the furrow in his brow, the way his jaw clenched and the tension in his voice that he was already aware of what they had come up with. Or at least he had an idea. She didn't dare pry, they may be best friends, but Jack was clearly not ready to share his thoughts. "And... If it is serious I will be in Jersey this season to help you through it."

Jack gave her a grateful smile before standing up from the porch swing, stretching his arms out wide. "Yeah, you're right. I shouldn't worry about it tonight." He leaned down and kissed her on the forehead, a gesture that was as commonplace as breathing between the two of them. "Thanks for the pep talk, toots." He said, using the childhood nickname that never failed to make her smile despite the circumstances. "I should head back down the street to my parent's place. It's getting late."

As he turned to leave, the rising moon cast a cool glow over the yard, highlighting the tall blades of grass that danced with the intermittent breeze. Y/n watched him go, her mind racing with the implications of what might happen at that during his meeting tomorrow. Would they really suggest something so ridiculous? And if they did, how would Jack handle it?

Jack's footsteps grew fainter until they were swallowed by the night. The house, once alive with the echoes of their laughter, now felt eerily quiet. Y/n remained seated out on the swing, her thoughts spiraling into a whirlwind of doubt and concern. She knew Jack was strong, capable of taking on any challenge thrown his way, but the thought of him being manipulated into some scheme to save the face of the Devils franchise made her sick. Then she thought, what if they didn't call a meeting to manipulate him into anything? What if it's simply to offer suggestions on what he can do differently going forward?

Y/n eventually shut that portion of her brain off and headed inside herself. A long hot shower and her bed was calling her name.

The next day Jack sat in his father's home office, the room smelling faintly of cologne and leather, waiting for the others to join the video call. The space was a testament to his father's success, filled with trophies and framed newspaper articles from his own days as a star player and coach. It was both inspiring and daunting, a constant reminder of the legacy he and his brothers were trying to live up to. The computer screen flickered to life, displaying a Zoom call with a row of faces, some familiar, some not. His management team, PR reps, and a couple of team officials stared back at him, all expectant and poised.

Jack leaned back in the chair, his casual attire feeling woefully inadequate among the suits and professional backgrounds of his callers. He had taken his mother's advice and dressed comfortably, but now he wished he had at least put on a button-up shirt. He glanced down at his New Jersey Devils t-shirt, the logo stretched slightly across his chest. It was a fan favorite, one that had been thrown at him in excitement by a young fan at a game. It felt like a piece of armor, a symbol of his pride and commitment to the team, but today it just made him feel like he was the kid, and he was playing dress-up in his dad's old gear.

The meeting began with a round of forced smiles and awkward greetings. The tension was palpable, thick enough to cut with a knife. Y/n's words from the night before echoed in his mind, a comforting whisper amidst the storm of uncertainty. He took a deep breath, bracing himself for whoever their absurd suggestion be his girlfriend when they had conjured up the fake relationship idea to "fix" his image.

"Jack, before we start, do you remember the guidelines I told you for this relationship or should we go over them again with everyone here?" The voice was cold and calculated, belonging to one of the stern-faced PR reps. Her eyes bore into him through the screen, demanding his full attention.

Jack's stomach lurched. He had hoped they would just come right out with what was new, news. "I think everyone is aware of what we're trying to achieve here, but please go ahead," he said, trying to keep the sarcasm at bay.

The stern-faced public relations rep, Ms. Castellanos, nodded curtly. "Good. So, the first guideline is that you two must be seen together at least three times a week. This includes public appearances such as dates, her being seen attending your games, and even casual outings like grocery shopping or walking the dog. That is if you or her have one."

Jack's eyes widened slightly, glancing down at his half empty coffee mug. He didn't have a dog, but he still didn't know who this girl they paired him up with was. Plus, he didn't know if Y/n had picked up any new hobbies involving pets in her last year of college. It was never mentioned during their weekly calls or on visits. It would be important to know that since she’s going to be living with him.

"Jack, are you listening?" The voice brought him back to the present, the sternness of Ms. Castellanos' tone was unmistakable.

Jack swallowed down the anxiety that was bubbling up inside him and nodded in acknowledgement.

Ms. Castellanos continued, "Guideline two, and perhaps the most important one, is that the relationship must appear genuine. You must exhibit believable public affection and body language. This means holding hands, occasional kisses on the cheek, maybe a few on the lips if the situation calls for it. As for body language," the stone-cold lady stopped speaking, watching Jack carefully once more. "You're both young, attractive, and in the public eye. If you lean into each other, have your arms around each other's waist, or even occasionally rest your head on her shoulder, it'll look natural and convincing. The media will eat it up, and your image will be transformed from a lonely heartthrob to a lovestruck boyfriend in no time."

Jack felt his cheeks flush slightly, the thought of faking intimacy with someone he'd never met before was nerve-wracking, to say the least. He took another sip of his now lukewarm coffee, trying to imagine how awkward the first kiss would be. He had never been one for faking emotions, especially something as intimate as love.

Ms. Castellanos continued, her voice unforgiving. "Guideline four is critical. The relationship must end with your girlfriend, and I stress this, must be the one to initiate the breakup. It should be done publicly and dramatically enough to make headlines, but not so much that it causes a scandal." She paused, allowing the gravity of the situation to sink in. "You cannot under any circumstances leave her. If it looks like you're the one who ended things, it'll only add fuel to the fire of your reputation. You need to be seen as the heartbroken party, the victim of a fickle heart. It'll humanize you, make you more relatable to the fans."

Jack felt his jaw clench at the coldness of the plan. He had agreed to a fake relationship to get the media off his back, but this was starting to feel like a script for a reality TV show gone wrong. "And what happens if we... I mean, if she gets tired of the whole thing?" He stumbled over his words, trying to maintain some semblance of respect for the stranger he was about to be romantically linked with.

"Ah, that's where guideline five comes into play," said Ms. Castellanos, her eyes gleaming with the excitement of her own cleverness. "We've prepared a non-disclosure agreement that she will be signing before the relationship begins. It's quite comprehensive and includes clauses for breaking it off in a controlled manner. She'll understand her role in this, Jack."

Jack's grip tightened around his coffee mug, the cheap porcelain feeling fragile under his thumb. "But who is she?" he repeated, his voice a little louder, a hint of frustration creeping in.

Ms. Castellanos' smile didn't waver, but her eyes narrowed slightly. "Her name is Elena Petrov," she said smoothly. "A local influencer with a clean reputation. She's been briefed on the situation and has agreed to help. She's a fan of the team and understands the importance of this for your career."

"No." Jack huffed out. gaining the attention of everyone on the call. Just the same as Jack, everyone else barely stayed tuned into her annoying voice. "She is the reason I am in this shit hole. Her friend is the last girl I was with. Elena took all the pictures. Maggie? A little help here." Jack pleaded with the IT media girl that for some miraculous reason was sitting in on the call.

"Oh. Uhm, yes. It took me days to get the pictures she put up taken down. And Mr. Hughes, we were able to prove they were edited after looking closer at them," Maggie spoke up, her voice shaky, probably from fear of interrupting the woman that could potentially ruin their lives with a tweet.

Ms. Castellanos' eyes darted from Jack to Maggie and back again, her displeasure clear. "Jack, this is non-negotiable. This is what's best for your career right now. You need to be seen as more than just a party boy. The sooner you start this relationship with Elena, the sooner we can start repairing your image," she said, her voice like a whip cracking through the tension in the room.

Jack's manager, Mr. Taylor, cleared his throat before speaking up, his tone measured and calm. "Perhaps there's another option we haven't considered. What about Y/n?" he suggested, glancing at Jack, who looked up at him, hope flickering in his eyes.

Ms. Castellanos raised an eyebrow. "Your childhood friend?" She sounded skeptical, but the video stream grew quiet, all eyes on Jack.

Jack nodded, feeling the weight of the decision he was about to make. "Yeah, Y/n. We've been best friends since middle school. Everyone already thinks we're together. It'll be believable, and she's... she's not in the spotlight like Elena is. It'll keep things more low-key." He swallowed, hoping he wasn't about to ruin their friendship.

Ms. Castellanos leaned back in her chair, steepling her fingers. "Very well, Jack. We'll consider it. But you need to talk to her and make sure she's on board with this. The last thing we need is for her to spill the beans and ruin the whole charade."

Jack nodded, his heart racing. He knew Y/n would do anything for him but asking her to be his fake girlfriend was a big ask. He took a deep breath, steeling himself for the conversation he was about to have. After the call ended, he let out a guttural groan due to frustration. He needed to go shoot some basketball or pucks before he talked Y/n, but he didn't have that time to waste. Instead of blowing off some of his stress he slipped on some shoes, kissed his momma goodbye, and headed out to the house he has visited time and time again.

The warm afternoon air was a major contrast to the coldness of the conversation he had just had. The streetlights flickered to life as Jack approached Y/n's house, the familiar path to her door as comforting as ever. He stopped in front of the door, the color of her door had changed since last summer, but the memories that lie behind it remained the same.

Jack took a deep breath before raising his hand to knock, the sound echoing through his head. Only thing on his mind was the conversation they were about to have. Jack flinched as he realized how hard and urgent he had beat on her mother’s front door. His heart thudded against his chest, partially with the anticipation of her reaction to the proposal and because of how quickly he had walked down the block. Jack took a deep breath in an urgent need to calm himself and appear as normal as possible before he was face to face with her.

Before he could finish his internal mantra of calming himself, the front door swung open in a rush. He was slightly hoping it would somehow be one of her relatives, but there she was, looking up at him with her soft, hopeful eyes. Her hair messily tossed into a messy bun atop her head and a sprinkle of fresh freckles danced across her nose from spending the day in the sun with his family yesterday. She was wearing the momentous hoodie that he had gifted her before leaving last summer. A hoodie that held a lot in its threads for the two of them. For her, it now held a lot of silent screams and wiped away tears from the last year, but it still held their joint memories.

‘It originally had become Jack’s superstitious hoodie for a while. The lucky hoodie he would wear all the way up to when he would change for warm ups, then she would wear it. This superstition developed during the years of world juniors. The year he brought home the Gold, the superstition shifted. Jack had a “girlfriend” that entire season and she wasn’t fond of the idea of Jack and Y/n swapping clothes like they did. The games with the development program were when she noticed this happening. She confronted Y/n about having a useless crush on her boyfriend and she would be taking over wearing his hoodie from then on. Jack didn’t take lightly to it, that was his best friend, his biggest non-family supporter. So, he decided y/n would wear the hoodie the entire time, from the time they all got dressed for the day to after the game. Now, it’s hers entirely, his decision since he couldn’t be here for her and live out his dream. He wanted her to have a piece of him, but if be a piece of them. Once again, it has become her comfort item as it has been back then.’

She fiddled with the stretched out sleeves hanging over left hand anxiously as her right hand was still grasping the door knob.

"How was your meeting?" The words fell from her lips so fast she hadn't taken a moment to invite him inside. Y/n had sat out on the porch swing all morning waiting to hear from him. Seeing him now ignited her anxiety and her need to know.

Jack let out a simple laugh at her eagerness to know. He softly touched her side, giving a slight nudge as if to signal her to walk backwards into the house.

The coolness of the air conditioning kissing his skin. "It was... interesting," he said, his voice a mix of relief and dread.

Y/n raised an eyebrow, her curiosity piqued. She walked a few steps backwards with his guidance to allow him in, the old floorboards creaking under their weight. "Interesting as in good or interesting bad?"

Jack shrugged, his smile wavering as he let go of her and made his way into the living room. The same room where they had spent hours playing video games, watching movies, doing homework.

—Could he ask her to do this? What if it blows up in their faces and ruins everything. What if he ruins her? He’d never be able to live with himself for hurting her.

The couch looked inviting, but he knew better than to sit down without spilling his guts. "Well, it’s one of those ‘depends on how you take it’ interesting type situations..." he trailed off, his eyes wandering around the room.

Y/n looked at him, her eyebrows rising in a questioning manner. Her eyes were filled with a mix of concern and curiosity. She could read the hesitancy written all across him. Starting with wanting to open up about his meeting. Which is something he's never had an issue with, at least with her, to not wanting to sit down. Almost as if, if he got too comfortable he would tell too much.

Taking a hold of his hand, rubbing her thumb over his palm she leaned her head on his upper arm. A common gesture between them. “Jackers?” She whispered so softly, he nearly missed it. He hummed in response coming out from where he drifted off too. She took a hold of his hand and softly pulled him down to take a seat on the couch with her.

“Jackers, just tell me. Did they come up with something ridiculous?"

Jack let out a small laugh , the sound hollow and forced. "Ridiculous doesn't even begin to cover it," he whined, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. "They want me to start a fake relationship with someone who I know is not going to help me. Then my manager suggested someone who would be great and I was for it because we already know each other but.." He took a deep breath, bracing himself for her reaction.

Y/n let go of his hand, in an unnatural reaction as they have been platonically physical since high school, "A fake relationship?" she echoed that one snippet. “With.. With who? Since I’ll be living with you I should be prepared for a new girl even if she is a fake girlfriend.”

Jack took a deep breath and looked up at her, his eyes filled with a desperation she had never seen before. "Toots, I really don't know what to do about this. PR decided on Elena Petrov. B—”

“You mean the friend of the bitch who started this mess? No I’m sorry the two who started this mess? You’re going to pounce around all lovey with the girl who put you here?!” Y/n’s chest heaved up and down heavily. She watched Jack’s face twist in annoyance then soften.

“If you had let me finish… I flat out said no. I will not and am not going to do this plan with her. When I told everyone on the call right then that I wouldn’t, my manager suggested someone else. But I don’t know if they’ll do it. They seem pretty disappointed in me…” Jack kept his voice even and didn’t raise it. He knew how you felt about being yelled at and he couldn’t be the one to cause a panic attack because he got a little upset.

“Well, who did they suggest? Maybe I can help. As long as it’s not Elena..”

“They suggested you. They asked me if I thought you would do it or if I would like you to do it with me. But if you're upset or disappointed, I'll tell them no right now," Jack explained, his voice a low rumble of uncertainty. He started fishing his phone out of his pocket in case he had to call his manager.

Y/n felt her throat tighten as a knot formed, a mix of emotions swirling inside her. She had always been there for Jack, and he for her, but this was something entirely different. This was a line they hadn’t truly crossed, and she wasn't sure if she was ready to pretend to cross it again. "Jack, I..." she murmured looking down at her hands in her lap, her voice trembling slightly. "Yes, I'll do it."

Jack's head snapped to look at her, his eyes failing to meet hers as she’s staring down, though a spark of hope igniting within him still. "You will?" he asked, his voice filled with a mix of surprise and relief.

Y/n nodded, her throat tight with unspoken emotions. "Yeah, I'll do it," she said, trying to keep her voice steady. "For you, I'll do it."

Jack's shoulders slumped with relief. He reached out to lift her head hesitantly so that he could meet her eyes with his. His eyes searching hers for any hint of hesitation. "Are you sure?" he asked, his voice wavering slightly. "You don't have to if you don't want to, management can figure it out.”

Y/n forced a smile and nodding her head yes, her heart racing with a mix of excitement and dread. The thrill of being able to go and do things with Jack was nice, but the dread of being scrutinized by females she didn’t know was already gnawing at her. "Besides, it's only for a couple of months, right?"

Jack's smile didn't part to show his teeth, it stayed tight lipped, evident he wasn't as enthused as his tone of voice was letting on. "Yup! Just for a couple of months."

"Okay, we can totally pull this off. It will be like playing pretend, remember?" She nudged him with her elbow, trying to lighten the mood with a memory from their childhood. More so for herself than him.

"You mean like when we got married under that old oak tree at my grandparents' house in the summer between sixth and seventh grade?" Jack nudged her back.

"Yup when you only agreed to get pretend married so you could get your first kiss."

She let a little giggle slip out as she reminisced on the memory of her and Jack as kids under the oak tree.

A young Jack with his signature smirk standing at the ‘altar’ with the “preacher Luke”. Jack didn’t wait for Luke to do his part of the pretend wedding he skipped straight to the kiss. ‘Couldn’t wait tootsie I was just wanting my 1st’

"If I remember correctly that was your first kiss too, and you asked for another one because of the ‘belly flies’." Jack teased her enjoying seeing her cheeky smile and blush creeping up on to her cheeks.

Y/n’s laughter echoed loudly through the room. "Jack Hughes, you are such a jerk!" She said playfully, her eyes sparkling with amusement.

Jack laughed echoing her laughter. "So, do we have an agreement? You'll be okay with fake dating me, even though we never got fake divorced?"

Y/n shook her head yes once again, while rolling her eyes at the boy next to her. “Yes, Jackers. Even though you never fake divorced me, I will fake date you.”

If she only knew that Jack was silently and brutally beating himself up for this. They were in for a roller coaster of chaos and changes.

Now that he had secured one portion of the agreement, he has footwork left in figuring out how to get out of the hoops and twists. Like how to get out of that very public break up after a few months into dating. He wasn’t going to make her out to be some bitch she’s not.

And if Jack has it his way, they won’t be breaking up and it won’t be a “fake” relationship for long either.

Because Jack Hughes is hopelessly in love with his best friend. If he has any luck, besides puck luck, she loves him too.

notes 2.0: hello! welcome to my newest mini series, believe in me i hope you enjoyed the first part of the series. i am always open to kindly put creative criticism. i truly appreciate all of the continued support by reading, liking, & reblogging! thank you thank you!

[yellobb]

Sorted through the fucking WEEDS to make a playlist full of the songs they play at the theme park I grew up near instead of, ya know, doing my fucking dishes

[robinsnest2111]

these 2 books are singlehandedly saving my day right now

[b6d11f]

view of other worlds from our windowsills

[six-of-ravens]

need to remember that my preferred grocery store opens late on long weekend Sundays for some godforsaken reason. had to go to the more expensive store across the street (bc I was not driving 20 mins, thank you), and I didn't break my budget bc I didn't need a whole lot today, but was very much haunted by the unpleasant feeling of getting screwed over the whole time I was there.

[joelswritingmistress]

Neighbors With Benefits: Part 1 (Joel Miller x f!reader)

Part of the #hotdilfsummerchallenge (I will be adding more and tag the Masterlist) Thank you @hellishjoel for putting on this contest. It's a lot of fun!

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Word count: Roughly 5000

Warning: Dilfy smut, age gap (23 & 42)

Mid-June, 2024. The first summer back home upon college graduation. You knew there would be an adjustment period and while you didn't necessarily feel unhappy, there was a strangeness that left you with feelings you couldn't quite pinpoint. This was your childhood home, your hometown, your room - but still, somehow it felt foreign.

You hung up the maroon cap and gown that showed off the primary color of Texas A+M, the college where you had spent the last four years studying your ass off to get a degree in criminal justice. At twenty-three years old after spending the last few years in a little off-campus apartment with some friends, you were feeling both aggravated and nostalgic upon returning to your parents' house in the suburbs. They were great and you got along just fine; but the freedoms that had gone along with renting your own place were now reeled in a bit tighter. At the very least you knew your mother would likely stay awake on the nights you were out late. Still, you appreciated how much they cared about you.

You moved to your bedroom window and flung it open to let in some air to get rid of the stuffiness that lingered in the house. Immediately, your eyes landed on a man next door standing behind a grill as smoke filtered up above him in a faint, little cloud. He flipped a burger with a pair of metal tongs and took a sip from what looked like a bottle of beer.

"Hey, honey."

You jumped at your mother's voice as if you'd been caught doing something wrong. "Hey." You pressed your eyebrows together and motioned out the window as she entered the room. "Who's that?"

"Oh, I guess it never came up in conversation," your mother said with a shrug, "That's our new neighbor. He moved in back in January."

You glanced back out the window.

"He’s a bit too old for you,” she teased with a laugh.

You whipped around and made a face. "I'm not... I'm not checking him out. I'm just asking why there's a stranger in the Wilsons' backyard." You smirked and raised your eyebrows, "Maybe if my mother told me things I wouldn't have to play detective."

"Isn't that what you got your degree in criminal justice for?"

You chuckled, knowing she would most certainly outwit you in a verbal battle. "And I'm 23 years old. No one's too old for me anymore."

"Well, in that case I hear they just built a nice, new nursing home down the road with plenty of widowed men. I can drive you there if you'd like."

You let out a hearty laugh. “I’ll pass."

The two of you giggled and your mother continued, "Will you be joining your father and I for dinner tonight? We were thinking of just going to Chili's and then heading to a play at the little theater downtown. The kids are putting on Grease."

You smiled as your phone vibrated with a text from your best friend. "It's Holly."

"So, I guess the answer is going to be no," your mother suspected. She smirked and got the hint. “Keep in touch.”

"Okay," you agreed and then cleared your throat when she turned to go. "Mom, what's his name?"

"Huh?"

"The neighbor," you went on, "I should probably introduce myself since I'm going to be a resident of 45 Harding Drive again."

"Joel," her mother replied, "Joel Miller."

Your parents left soon after and so you wandered out to the back steps, waiting for them to take off first before popping open a beer. The ice cold beverage tasted better than normal because of the incoming summer heat that was supposed to really strike the following morning. With a content sigh, you leaned your elbows back on the top step of the set of four that led from the back door into the oversized backyard.

"Jennifer?" a deep, scratchy voice made you jump for the second time that night. You put a hand on your chest and glanced off to the side when you realized a man had called out your mother's name.

The neighbor, you thought, feeling your stomach knot up.

You cleared your throat and rose to your feet, leaving the beer on the top step. "No… I’m (Y/N)." You took a few steps in his direction though he made his way almost all the way to the steps.

"(Y/N)?" His features became clear when he stepped into a small, back light beside the door. The man flashed a friendly, boyish grin from beneath a trim beard. "Tim and Jen’s daughter?"

You looked down sheepishly and smiled before lifting your eyes to meet his stare. "Yeah."

He’s hot, your inner monologue informed you, as if your cheeks hadn't suddenly grown hot.

His eyes shifted to the beer and his grin widened even more before he extended a hand. "I'm Joel... your neighbor."

"Nice to meet you." You gave a closed-mouth smile and took in his appearance, consciously telling herself not to stare. His plain white t-shirt showed off his broad chest and shoulders

Joel cleared his throat. "I didn't mean to startle you."

"It's fine," you assured him and then cleared your throat, "Do you want a beer or something?"

A smirk twisted onto his face., "No thanks. I was actually just coming over to see if I could borrow some butter."

"Oh..." You glanced over your shoulder at the back door and then back to Joel.

"You don't have to," he said reassuringly, unable to keep the grin from his face. "You don't even know me yet so-"

"No.” You cut him off, "No, it's fine."

"Are you sure?" Joel's voice cut through you like a knife and he kept his eyes firmly locked on yours.

You nodded, unable to look away for a moment and then waved him inside.

"Don't forget your brew here, honey." He reached down and scooped up the beer as you flung the back door open.

You smiled again, "Thanks."

Joel nodded and followed you in, before glancing around at the modest but modern kitchen. "You, uh... you even old enough to drink this shit?" He motioned to the beer.

You rolled your eyes, "I can show you my ID if that makes you feel any better." You flung open the refrigerator, "I know my parents are going to treat me like I'm in high school again."

"Well... they're just trying to protect you," Joel said. "How old are you?"

"Twenty-three." You glanced over her shoulder at him, somewhat pleased to catch him staring - or so you thought. It prompted him to look elsewhere.

"Here." You removed a stick of butter and crossed the room to hand it to him. When the butter landed in his hand you decided to be bold and didn't immediately let it go, "How old are you?"

He chuckled before holding a wicked smirk and again held her captive with his playfully intense eyes. "How old do you think I am?"

You stared back, somewhat used to gaining control over the guys you had dated or been interested in in the past. Already, this time you felt a bit outmatched and part of it was your instant attraction to him. When Joel took one step in her direction, you swallowed hard and gave a random answer.

"Thirty-two?"

Joel laughed a little louder, putting a hand on his stomach. He ran the other hand through his messy brown hair and pointed. "You're so full of shit."

You smiled at him, "I was thinking more of thirty-eight, thirty-nine."

He sucked his teeth and gave you a look up-and-down before smiling wide again. When he didn't say anything in response you flat out asked, "Am I right?"

"Forty-two," Joel finally informed you after a long pause.

"Over the hill then?"

He snickered and then motioned to the fridge, "Ya know... I will have that beer if you don't mind."

You smiled before reopening the fridge to fetch one for him. When you placed a bottle of Bud Lite in his hand he used the counter to pop the top rather than twist it. When the dented bottle cap fell to the floor and danced in circles for a moment you glanced back up to find him continuing to stare as he took a long swig from the bottle.

Joel wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Your dad going to notice that a few of these are missing?"

"They're mine," you informed him, "And I'm not-"

"A kid, I know..." Joel rolled his eyes now and the two of you shared a laugh, "Believe me when you're my age you'll love that someone will accuse you of being younger."

"I'm sure I will."

He reached down and scooped up the cap from the ground and then held it out in his palm. When you went to reach for it he closed his hand and smiled playfully.

"I'll take it," Joel offered, "Don't want you to get caught drinking these things when your parents come home." He continued to tease you about your age.

"You know, I could've guessed you were fifty."

He laughed out loud. "Smart mouth on you," Joel flashed his index finger at her with the hand that held the bottle, "I like it."

You looked down and laughed again, feeling your cheeks grow hot again from his remark.

"Anyway, I should be getting back." Joel continued to smile, almost triumphantly and winked. "It was nice meeting you."

"It was nice meeting you too.”

He held your gaze for an extra second, forcing him to smirk a final time before heading out the back door.

"Thanks for the beer," he said casually, "I'll see ya around."

8:15 pm - the following evening

"Sorry I couldn't make it out last night," Holly said to you. The two of you sat side by side at barstools down at one of the local bars in town. "My boss can be a real pain in the ass sometimes."

"It's fine. I had the house to myself so I kind of just had some time to chill and binge watch some old shows."

"Sounds terrible."

You laughed and shrugged. "It was alright."

"Well, here's to... summer?" Holly raised her martini glass and you tapped her beer bottle gently against it.

"To potentially the weirdest summer of my life."

"Why's that?"

You shrugged, "I don't know. Being back home doesn't feel so 'at home' anymore."

"Give it time." Holly sipped her drink, "In a month it'll feel like you never left."

"That's what I'm afraid of."

"Hey, it's not so bad. I'm here." She smiled and raised her eyebrows, "Jill and Molly should be home within the week too. We can get the old crew back together before we all get real jobs and have to do shitty adult stuff."

"I'll drink to that," you agreed, taking a longer swig of the beer. You sighed and began to peel at the blue Bud Lite label, letting your mind drift to the night before with Joel. You envisioned him snapping the cap off the top of the beer bottle, using the counter. A smile crossed lingered on your face.

"Ooohh... someone's checking us out," Holly commented, "Or maybe they know you..." Her eyebrows pressed together and she motioned using her head toward a table in the corner of the bar.

"Oh shit." You couldn't contain your response but realized it must've sounded out of place.

"What?" Her friend asked, "Do you know him?"

"That's my neighbor," you informed her, "New neighbor."

Joel smirked and gave a wave but quickly entertained a conversation he was having with two other men at the small, corner table.

"He's kind of a Dilf."

You snickered and shrugged, unable to take your eyes off of him. When Joel glanced back in your direction you looked away and quickly took a sip of your.

"You think he's hot," Holly suspected with a laugh.

"What?" You shook your head, "No... I mean he may have some Dilf qualities or something like you just said but…” The sentence drifted off.

"Mm-hmm..." She continued to stare at her friend with playfully accusing eyes.

"Stop," you joked, "I just met him last night."

"Last night?" Holly perked up, "And..."

"And what?"

"You tell me."

You laughed again, "He came over to the house because he needed some butter."

"More like some sugar," she winked and glanced up toward a television that had a baseball game on in front of them.

You let out a hearty laugh and shook your head.

"He keeps looking over here." Holly’s voice perked out, "Oh! He's getting up," Holly whispered, stalking him for a moment with her eyes.

You glanced over and felt your stomach twist in knots when he headed in their direction.

"So you are over twenty-one," Joel cracked a wide smile and tapped the back of her chair as he continued to walk by.

"Twenty-three," you called after him, smiling wide.

He glanced over his shoulder, winking once before continuing on around a corner toward the bathrooms.

You let out a sigh and Holly turned back around.

"What the hell are you waiting for?" her friend asked. Before you could attempt to plead your case Holly went on, "He's hot... and he's totally flirting with you."

"He's not flirting with me."

"That was a Frank Sinatra-worthy wink."

You shook your head, laughing again. "Where do you come up with these things?"

"You're glowin. You're crushing on this guy. Who cares if he's your neighbor. Get on that."

"He's forty-two," you lowered your voice.

Holly raised her eyebrows and glanced toward the doorway where Joel had just walked through before returning her attention to her friend.

"Forget it." You sipped your drink and tried to pretend like you were nterested in the game on the television.

"At least admit you're crushing."

She turned to her and shook her head, "Fine... he's hot. Okay?" You focused on the screen for as long as she could and tried to pretend not to notice when Joel rounded back into the bar. You let out a deep breath as he crossed behind you and felt a rush when he came up beside you to flag down the bartender.

"Another round?" the middle-aged bartender asked, already reaching for a beer.

"Please,” Joel said with a nod, "You can put it on the tab." He turned to you, "Any interest in playing darts over here?" He nodded toward a dart board in the corner.

"Sure."

"Don't feel obligated." He forced your eyes back to his and continued to stare into them.

"I don't." You felt that intense paralysis again and couldn't turn away. When the bartender came back with the round of beers for Joel, you felt relieved and let out a breath.

"Get these two what they want," Joel added to the bartender, "Next round's on me when you finish those."

"Oh, you don't have to-"

"It's fine. I owe you one from last night." He headed back to the small table with his friends and Holly finally snapped you out of your daze.

"I thought you just gave him butter," she whispered with a giggle, "What was last night?"

You swallowed hard and rose to your feet, prompting Holly to do the same. "I offered him a beer and he took it," she said, "It was nothing... believe me. If I had anything interesting to share I would tell you."

Your legs felt heavy as you crossed the dark bar that was scattered with only a handful of other people. While the two other men began collecting darts and erasing the chalkboard to the side, Joel stood staring with his elbow on the table. For a moment everything else was in the background and you could only focus on him.

Shit... Any wit she had going for her had betrayed her. The instant, intense attraction you had to him was completely clouding your judgment. You felt like you were about to enter a wolf den, though you didn't at all mind playing the part of Little Red Riding Hood.

The anxiety-ridden feeling you had had leading up to the game of darts diminished as the night went on. You played a few games, swapping teammates several times, beginning with a 'boys versus girls' theme and then pairing off randomly when one game ended.

"He's going to fuck it up, you watch," Joel taunted as his friend lined up, closing one eye as he released the dart, only sending it clunking off the board and to the ground. "You didn't even hit the fuckin' board." His words drew laughter from everyone and the man that missed stumbled to retrieve it, chuckling as he went.

"I'm fucked up," Skip, the older robust man, remarked as he struggled to pick the dark up from the floor.

"Ya think?" Joel joked, continuing to sip on his beer.

"It's about time I get this man home to his wife and let her deal with him," the other man, Charlie, chuckled from behind a pair of alcohol-induced crimson cheeks. "Can't hold his liquor."

Skip huffed a breath and closed his eyes with a hand on his head. "The old lady's going to be mad at me. Especially when I tell her we've been hanging out with these lovely ladies." He motioned to you and Holly, laughing at himself and making the others do the same.

"I'd leave that part out if you knew what was good for ya," Charlie informed him with another laugh. "Come on Skippy. It's past your bed time."

"Game over?" Holly asked you.

"I guess so." You raised her eyebrows and smiled.

"Charlie, you guys to get home?" Joel asked.

"It's just a quarter mile down the road," Charlie waved a hand. He smiled, "Good night ladies."

"Goodnight," you both said at the same time before Holly turned to you.

"I'm heading to the bathroom. Be right back." She raised her eyebrows, noting it would give you and Joel a moment alone and you tried to play it off coolly.

"Okay." She watched a moment as Holly made her way down the bar and around the corner.

"Hope I didn't kill your girls night," Joel said.

"No." You turned back to him and leaned an elbow on the table, "We were just bored. Had to get out of the house."

"Mmm..." He slid back down into a seat and you took upon herself to join him as you waited for Holly.

Joel leaned both elbows on the table to straddle his beer, "You're probably used to night clubs filled with young guys just dying to buy you a drink. This has to be fuckin' lame."

"I was over that scene by my junior year," you told him with a laugh as you shook your head. "They were all the same with their cheesy cologne and gelled up hair."

Joel huffed a laugh and took a sip of his drink. "Sick of that shit huh?"

"Very." You mirrored his position and continued to sip on the beer you had been milking for the better part of an hour, "I'm kind of over the party scene... and the being at home scene."

"You've been home for one fuckin' day." He raised his eyebrows, "Get over it. You're saving money."

You nodded, "Yeah... yeah you're right."

"I know I am." He smiled, a charming arrogance radiating out of him.

When your phone buzzed in your pocket you jumped and quickly removed it, finding a text message from Holly.

I'm getting in my car. Snuck out the back. Have fun. You'll thank me later.

When you looked back up Joel was grilling you with his eyes. You wondered if he had managed to read the message or not. You cleared her throat. "Holly," you said simply.

"You guys need to go?"

You opened her mouth to speak, still unsure if he had seen what your friend wrote but decided to chance it and lie. "She... got sick. She's on her way home."

"She okay?"

You nodded. “Just a little embarrassed I think and decided to go." You took a sip to buy yourself some time in case he asked any more questions. When he didn't you tried to change the subject. "This place is dead."

"What's so bad about the college scene?" Joel asked.

"Huh?"

"The young guys, the night clubs..."

"Oh... nothing, I guess." You cleared her throat feeling like he was trying to read your mind. Again, your face felt flush with heat and you continued, "They're just... all the same. There's no appeal anymore. When I was eighteen I thought it was cool sneaking into bars and all that." You smiled and shook her head before looking him in the eye. "This is more my speed."

Joel stared back and didn't immediately say anything.

You almost couldn't take the quiet stalemate. The sexual attraction for Joel burned in your chest and in that moment, in the quiet corner of the bar, it was hard to fight it. All the same, you felt like you had to be reading his body language correctly in assuming he was feeling something too. Still, the fact that he was your older neighbor, who you didn't know very well, lingered in the back of your mind.

Getting involved with Joel would satisfy your instant craving for him but beyond that you knew it could only lead to making both of your lives more complicated.

"I'm going to go to the bathroom," you told him, when you couldn't contain your feelings any longer. It was the only thing you could say without leaping across the table and initiating a make-out session that played out animalistically in your mind.

"You gunna disappear on me too?" he joked, though you could see there was a hint of seriousness in his piercing eyes behind the wicked smile that hadn't left his face all evening.

"Not a chance." You felt embarrassed by the bold nature of your words, but took a deep breath and made the long walk across the bar into the restroom area. When you pushed open the door you felt relieved that no one else was in there and quickly made your way to the sink to pat some water on her face. You let out a breath, leaning both of her hands on the counter and then took in your appearance to make sure you was satisfied with the way you looked.

I'm being ridiculous, you thought. I'm too old to feel this out of control over a guy... or a man.

Joel was a man. He wasn't at all like the college boys you had been surrounded by who loved to crush beer cans on their heads, brag about how many consecutive beer pong games they'd won and worst of all when they threw the cheesiest lines at you and your friends to try to get laid. Joel didn't have to say or do anything in particular. He could simply look at you the right way and you found yourself ready to obey any request or demand he threw your way.

I’m in over my head, you thought, but I don't care.

You took in another deep breath and felt like you had the quick break that you needed to hold a sensible conversation with him without the constant interference of your out-of-whack hormones.

"Okay," you whispered to yourself and fiddled with your hair before pulling the door open to head back into the short, dark hallway. When Joel rounded the corner at the same time from the bar both of you stopped abruptly.

His eyes stalked the length of your body before finally re-settling on your gaze.

"Checking to make sure I didn't bail?" you joked, nervously laughing just after. Your tongue danced along your bottom lip, and you couldn't help but look him up and down the way he had just done to you.

Joel swallowed hard, tipping his mouth up into a half-smirk before walking past the men's room door in your direction.

You didn't have time to process all of the questions in your mind because he marched up and planted his lips against yours, immediately penetrating them with his tongue as his hands successfully shoved you up against the door to the women's room. It opened a few inches beneath the force.

You felt an explosion of adrenaline filter through your body as you kissed him back even more savagely than in your daydreams.

Joel pushed the door all the way open with one hand, not separating himself from you as he gripped your ass with his free hand and pushed his hips firmly against yours.

You tangled a hand in his hair, kissing him back with a heated passion that you didn't bother to try masking now that he had initiated the fantasy that had been playing out in your mind since you had him.

He moaned into your mouth before taking a breath and crushing his lips back against yours. Your back collided with the tile wall at the back of the bathroom, and you arched your neck as he began to ravage you, sliding a hand down the front of your pants while gripping your face with the other to kiss you hard again.

It all was happening so fast. You struggled to keep up but couldn't process a conscious thought when his first two fingers slid inside of you.

You bit down on your lip in a break in the kiss and spread your legs wider to give him more access.

Joel left a single kiss on her lips and spoke against them in a husky whisper, "Let it out honey," he kissed you again, "Let it out."

You knew the bar was nearly empty and there wasn't another woman that had been there. Even if there had been you didn't know that you would have cared. When his fingers twitched, arcing perfectly in his technique to make your entire lower body shiver with pleasure, you groaned.

"Fuck Joel," your whined his name, desperate for his tongue to dominate your again as he continued to finger you relentlessly until you felt like you were going to explode.

Joel's arousal heightened when he traced your lips with his thumb of his free hand, prompting you to take the tip of it into your mouth.

"God," he closed his eyes relished in the feeling, pushing his fingers deeper into you.

You whimpered again, writhing beneath his touch and attempted to reach for the belt buckle on his pants. "I want you."

He removed his hand from beneath your slick panties and placed his hands against the wall on either side of you as you managed to undo his buckle and shove his pants down off his hips.

Instinctively, you dropped to your knees, taking in as much of him as you could. Joel moaned and bucked his hips once as he grasped the back of your head with one hand. You looked up, watching his head fall back as his closed eyes pressed shut tighter. Joel allowed you to have your way with him as you continued to go down on him like you might never get another opportunity to do so. "Fuuucckk." He drew the word out, encouraging you to continue as he grabbed a fist full of your hair. "Ohh shit..."

Had anybody walked by the door there would have been no way to mask what was going on. Joel didn't hold back and felt an additional jolt of pleasure when you stroked him with your hand before quietly demanding him to come.

He opened his eyes, letting his mouth hang open as he glanced down, making eye contact with you as you engulfed him again.

"Jesus..." Joel's eyes closed and he felt an unmistakable buildup brewing below his waist. He couldn't ask you to stop, not when he was on the verge of exploding. "I'm gunna come." He shouted the words so loud that you thought for sure that someone had to have heard your encounter from somewhere in the bar. Still, you didn't let up and allowed him to push deep into you, gripping the back of your head with such force that you couldn't have separated your mouth from him if you tried.

He groaned, not attempting to hold back what he was feeling, alternating different curse words in between uneven breaths that ultimately left him panting as you finished him off. With a final breath he released your hair, letting his hand drop toward your face as you wiped a hand across your mouth and slowly rose to your feet.

Joel stood there for several seconds, breathing heavy with his pants at his ankles and a hand still on your face. When he finally came down off the high enough to speak, a chuckle left his mouth and ran a hand through your now-messy hair. "Shit honey... you didn't get yours." He let out another breath and then retrieved his pants from the floor and straightened out his appearance.

"It's alright," you told him with a sly smile, noting the heat that was still brewing between your legs.

He huffed another breath and adjusted himself over his pants before regaining your gaze. Joel smiled and drew his thumb gently under your eye, "Mascara's running. Sorry honey."

You closed her eyes as he continued to wipe the stray makeup away from your face. When you reopened them, Joel sported a half grin and he raised his eyebrows.

"Guess I fuckin' owe ya one."

You snickered, pleased to know that he wasn't at all expecting this to be your only encounter. "Yeah... you do."

Joel took a final, deep breath. "Well... you know where to find me."

"Next door."

"If you see me outside come on over to... borrow some butter or something.”

"Butter..." You snickered and then swallowed hard when he took a step toward her and slid a hand back down the front of your pants.

Joel touched his lips to yours as he spoke and this time gently began to massage up and down your wet center. When your mouth twisted up in a smile and you closed your eyes again he grinned and removed his glistening fingers. "It's a shame this is going to go to waste. Too bad you're so damn good at giving a blowjob. I had all the intentions of fucking you but I could just not ask you to stop.”

"Damn," she said quietly, but smiled, praying he might have it in him to continue.

Joel smiled, reading the disappointment on her face. "I'll be in and out tomorrow," he claimed, "You see me and you feel like bringing me over some butter…”

"I think you’ll definitely need some."

He looked down and made his way to the sink to wash his hands before turning to her with a smile. He ended the night the same way he had the night before, "I'll see ya around."

CLICK HERE FOR PART 2

[eddies-ashtray]

Falling asleep on Eddie’s bed in the middle of the day and the sweet things that ensue after.

(CW: g!n reader, Eddie calls reader ‘pretty’ once). |0.8k|

♡*♡*♡

Eyes still closed, you smile lazily as you tune into the rattling and whir of the yellowed fan. Basically all it does is push around warm air, but its gentle gust brushing your bare shoulders pleases you nonetheless. Sometime in the early afternoon when you’d first dozed off atop Eddie’s covers it stood, unplugged, on his side of the bed.

You know he’s next to you before you’ve fully woken from your brief slumber. The dip in the mattress, the quiet scratching of a pencil on paper. These signs not only alert you of his presence but encourage you to blink your eyes open as you draw in a deep breath.

Your gaze settles at his hip. The curled edges of Eddie’s cut up band tee rest just below his waist, exposing a sliver of pale skin.

“Mmh,” you grumble, squinting up at him as the sunshine casts a glow across the bed. “What time is it?”

Eddie’s eyes, appearing much lighter as they soak up the glowing rays, crinkle in the corners as they meet yours, a smile playing at his lips. “Hey, sleepy.”

“Dopey,” you greet in jest.

He smiles bigger, squeezing his eyes shut as a quick breath escapes his nose.

“Very original.” Eddie’s deadpan tone does not match the delight kissing his features.

You shrug with some difficulty (only one shoulder lifts as the other is pressed into the bed), as if to say ‘What did you expect? It was right there.’

Rolling over onto your back, you stretch out like a cat, your whole body lengthening as your arms reach above your head, and release an involuntary groan of pleasure feeling as your muscles stretch.

Outside, trees rustle in the breeze and children shout and laugh as they play in the summer sun. They’re such nostalgic sounds they make your heart ache for the briefest of moments, like they’d evoked a sweet childhood memory which melted away before it could fully resurface.

Sensing his eyes on you, you peek back up at Eddie as your right hand comes to rest on your stomach, the left one falling palm-up by your side.

“You look pretty when you first wake up,” he expresses, all warmth and love.

“No way.” No one does. He just loves you.

“Yes way,” He mocks lightly as he stares down at you, his hand coming to settle over your forearm as he rubs his thumb into your skin.

You concede because you know you could both go back and forth like that forever. And because you’re too warm and feel too much like jelly to argue.

Instead, you sigh contentedly before pushing yourself up so you’re shoulder-to-shoulder with Eddie.

Lolling your head onto his shoulder, you whisper, “Time?”

So apparently taken by your slightly puffy face, he’d likely forgotten you’d even asked.

Immediately, he extends his left arm out to you so you can read the watch settled on his wrist.

2:22pm.

Tugging his arm gently to your face, you press a quick kiss to his hand, “Thanks.”

He hums as you place your head back on his shoulder, the sound reverberating deep in his chest. Despite the warmth in the room the sound gives you chills.

“Watcha drawin’?” You sing-song, though you can see his sketchbook from this angle.

“Watcha think?”

You almost jest, say, feet, before you realize, “Are those my hands?”

They must be. You know it not because of how detailed the drawing is. It’s more of a sketch so far. You know it because of the ring on the middle finger.

Eddie had found it while thrifting and gifted it to you one day. It wasn’t a birthday or anniversary or holiday. Just a normal day in March. It was a particularly frigid day, all grey skies and icy window sills. You’d arrived at the trailer after your shift about 20 minutes before Eddie. But when he did arrive, he went straight to you, and he said, I got ya somethin’ with that charming smile of his, all fidgety and excited like he was about to open presents on Christmas day. And then presented you with that beautiful ring he’s so carefully sketching onto your graphite hands.

“Mhm. You’ve got nice ones,” he says, taking hold of one of yours and softly tracing the ridges of your knuckles before thumbing the silver ring. It never comes off.

Your heart aches in the best way. You feel so content being here with him. Napping on his bed and waking up to him drawing you, caring for you, loving you. You squeeze his hand in yours before tilting upwards to press a sweet kiss to his cheek.

“Keep drawing, please?”

You can’t believe you get to sit here next to him in the middle of a balmy summer’s day while he presses pencil to paper with that rickety old fan sitting on your side of the bed.

♡*♡*♡

Thank you so much for reading! If you liked this please reblog <3 & let me know what you thought!

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[solar-wing]

⚣ Too Late 💙

⚣💙 A/N → request for @alexanderstarhero! Hope you enjoy it! Also, I apologize for my extended absence. I have a job, I'm starting a new school program, and business-related things keep me busy, but I'm still here guys! I promise! Not sure how I feel about this one. I feel like I could've done better but we desperately need some more Clark Kent x male reader though so here you go. Which, by the way, if you haven't checked out @nouearth, his Clark fics and literally everything else makes me melt and feel unholy things. Churches beware. ANYWAY, Hope everyone likes it! WARNINGS: Magical Male Reader | Angst & Fluff | Childhood Friends To Lovers | SFW |

⚣💙 Summary → You know, one would think moving to a completely different city in hopes of forgetting your past life and feelings would be enough. But fate is a sneaky little bastard that just loves to play with your feelings. Is it too late for a do-over?

⚣💙 Words → 12.4K

REBLOGS & replies are greatly appreciated, please! 💙

⚣ ENJOY 💙

The city lights of Metropolis flickered through the windows of a small, cozy apartment, where the hum of traffic below provided a constant background noise. Y/N stood by the window, a glass of juice in hand, staring out at the skyline. Since moving to the city, he often found himself feeling nostalgic, with old memories of Smallville popping into his mind more frequently than he’d like. Most of those memories had a common thread.

A soft sigh escaped his lips as he took a sip of his juice, the cool liquid doing little to ease the anxious tightness in his chest. Moving to Metropolis was supposed to be a fresh start—a way to leave behind his past and focus on building a better, normal life for himself, free from the constraints of small-town life.

Since he was a baby, Y/N had been gifted with magical abilities. How he got these powers was a mystery to both him and his parents; they could never find any trace of magical ability in their ancestry. With no idea where the powers came from, and no one to turn to for help, his parents did everything they could to hide their son’s abilities from the outside world. They tried their best to teach him control, but without expertise, they were flying blind.

Growing up, Y/N barely knew how to control or use his powers. You’d think in a small town like his, people would have noticed or called in the town priest, but that wasn’t the case. In Metropolis, when something strange happened—something that often happened to Y/N—people would give him odd looks, but then they’d move on with their day as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred. In Smallville, though, everyone treated it as normal.

After the Kents arrived with their new kid, who seemingly appeared out of nowhere, the town acted as if every strange occurrence was just part of everyday life. They quickly shut down anyone who dared to question it, and that extended to both Clark Kent and Y/N.

Small towns were usually known for everyone knowing everyone’s business. Gossip was the native language. But not in Smallville. Y/N couldn’t help but smile a little at the memory of how the line between the ordinary and the extraordinary seemed to blur there. Most places would have been up in arms if they noticed the strange occurrences that happened in Smallville. But in that little Kansas town, people had an uncanny ability to overlook the impossible, shrugging off the extraordinary as if it were just another quirk of life.

Take Clark Kent, for instance. Anyone could see that something was different about him. He was stronger, faster, and able to do things most grown men couldn’t even imagine, let alone a small farm boy. But the townsfolk never questioned it. They simply accepted that he could do things no one else could and moved on.

It was the same with Y/N. He might accidentally cause a book to float off a shelf or a light to flicker when he was upset, but no one in Smallville ever made a fuss, something his parents were very grateful for. There were whispers—there always are in small towns—but they never left closed doors. The people of Smallville had learned long ago to mind their own business, especially when it came to the Kents and Y/N.

Even more so when a bunch of guys in black suits, glasses, and SUVs showed up one week, probing around town and asking strange questions. It had been after one of the more noticeable incidents—a moment when Clark saved someone in a way that couldn’t be easily explained. If there was one thing you could count on from a small town, it was that they weren’t saying anything to those types of Feds or government officials.

The memory was still vivid in Y/N’s mind: the way the town closed ranks, the polite but firm way the locals deflected every question, sending agents on wild goose chases until they finally gave up. His parents had mentioned that it was nothing compared to when that strange meteor hit the Kent farm and a bunch of government agents and scientists showed up—the same week the Kents got a new kid named Clark.

It was as if the entire town had decided, collectively and without speaking a word, that whatever was going on with the Kents—and by extension, Y/N—was their business and no one else’s. The unspoken rule in Smallville was clear: if you saw something strange, you didn’t see it. You didn’t ask questions, and you certainly didn’t talk about it. It was a kind of willful ignorance, a way for the town to protect its own from prying eyes. And in some strange, twisted way, it worked.

Y/N often wondered how much of it was a conscious choice and how much was just the way Smallville was. It was as if the town itself had decided to shield them, to create a bubble where the extraordinary was just another part of everyday life.

But as comforting as that was, it was also suffocating. Because even in a town that turned a blind eye to the unusual, Y/N couldn’t escape the feeling that he was different, that there was something wrong with him. He couldn’t shake the fear that one day, the bubble would burst, and everyone would see him for what he really was—a freak, an outcast.

At least he had a friend.

Imagine the two kids in town who both had episodes of strange, inexplicable things happening to them or around them becoming friends. Completely ironic, like something straight out of a story. Unless...

...

Nah.

But in a place where the extraordinary was treated with a shrug, having someone like Clark as a friend made all the difference. It was as if fate—or whatever unseen force governed the universe—had decided that these two oddities should find each other. And find each other they did, in the most natural, unassuming way possible.

Clark and Y/N became fast friends, drawn together by their shared experiences of feeling different, even if neither of them fully understood why. They never talked about the strange things that happened to them, never discussed how Clark could lift bales of hay like they weighed nothing, or how Y/N could sometimes make things move with just a thought. It was an unspoken agreement, a mutual understanding that whatever was happening to them was theirs to carry, together.

In a town that turned a blind eye to the impossible, Clark was the one person who made Y/N feel like he wasn’t alone. There was a quiet comfort in their friendship, a sense of belonging that Y/N had never felt before. They were both outsiders in their own way, but together, they found a place where they could be themselves, where they didn’t have to pretend or hide.

But as they grew older, that comfort became a source of anxiety for Y/N. The more time he spent with Clark, the more he realized that his feelings for his friend were deeper than just friendship. He cared about Clark in a way that went beyond the bond they shared, and it terrified him. In a town that could overlook floating books and superhuman strength, there were still lines that couldn’t be crossed, and Y/N knew that his feelings for Clark were one of them.

He tried to suppress those feelings, to bury them deep inside where they couldn’t cause any harm. But the harder he tried, the more they grew, until it became impossible to ignore them. He started to pull away, putting distance between himself and Clark, hoping that space would make the feelings fade. It didn’t.

Plus, Y/N still didn’t understand the extent of his abilities, and he knew sometimes his powers would react to his emotions. He didn’t want to risk doing anything that could hurt Clark. He didn’t think he’d be able to live with himself if something happened because of his inability to control his powers.

Yet, good old noble Clark, always perceptive and caring, noticed the change. He didn’t push or pry, but there was always that look in his eyes, a quiet concern that only made Y/N’s heart ache more. Clark didn’t know why Y/N was pulling away, but he never stopped trying to bridge the gap. He was always there with a smile, a warm word, or an invitation to hang out, never letting the distance between them grow too wide.

It was those small gestures that made it so hard for Y/N to keep his resolve. Every time he saw Clark, every time Clark reached out, Y/N was reminded of why he had fallen for him in the first place. Clark was kind, selfless, and endlessly patient—the kind of person who would give you the shirt off his back without a second thought. How could Y/N not fall in love with someone like that?

But that love was exactly what made Y/N so afraid. The more he cared about Clark, the more he feared losing him, either because of his uncontrolled magic or because of the feelings he couldn’t keep buried forever. He knew that if he stayed in Smallville, if he stayed close to Clark, something would eventually slip. Maybe he’d accidentally reveal his powers, or maybe his feelings would come spilling out in a moment of weakness. Either way, Y/N was sure that it would end with Clark looking at him differently, seeing him as something strange, something other.

Thankfully, the age of adulthood and high school graduation came, and Y/N took that as his way out. His parents were as worried as ever about him moving to a college so far away, but he reassured them he’d be fine.

He decided on college in New York, thinking the change from small town to big city was exactly what he needed. At least there, it made sense for people to turn a blind eye to whatever strange things were going on around them.

But even throughout his years of undergrad, Y/N could never shake the memories of Smallville, and more specifically, he could never forget Clark. No matter how much distance he put between them, the memories of their friendship lingered, haunting him in the quiet moments when he was alone. He would often catch himself thinking about Clark—wondering what he was doing, if he was still in Smallville, if he had moved on with his life the way Y/N had tried to.

Y/N thought that maybe, over time, those feelings would fade, that he would move on and forget the boy who had once meant everything to him. But they never did. Even in the crowded, bustling city of New York, where life moved at a breakneck pace and there was always something new to distract him, Y/N found his thoughts drifting back to Clark.

He tried dating other people, hoping that maybe if he found someone else, someone who wasn’t Clark, it would help him move on. But it never worked. No one else could compare to the boy who had always been there for him, who had seen him at his worst and never judged him for it. Every relationship ended the same way, with Y/N feeling like he was chasing something he could never have, like he was trying to fill a void that only Clark could fill.

Then, after graduation, Y/N was offered a job in Metropolis. It was a great opportunity, the kind of offer he couldn’t turn down. It wasn’t too far from where he was already living, but he figured a new change of scenery couldn’t be too bad.

Plus, he wanted to check out the rumors he’d heard of some sort of superhero who had started making headlines in Metropolis. The stories seemed almost too wild to believe—a man with superhuman strength, speed, and the ability to fly, saving people and fighting crime in the heart of the city. It was the kind of thing that would have been dismissed as tabloid nonsense anywhere else, but Y/N knew better. If there was one thing Smallville had taught him, it was that the extraordinary often hid in plain sight.

So, with a mix of curiosity and the desire for a fresh start, Y/N packed his bags and moved to Metropolis. He found a small, cozy apartment in a quieter part of the city, close enough to the action but far enough to avoid the chaos. The job was great—challenging, fulfilling, and exactly what he needed to take his mind off things. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t escape the feeling that he was still running, still trying to outrun the shadow of his past.

Despite his attempts to leave his old life behind, Y/N couldn’t completely ignore his powers. He had spent too long hiding them, too long fearing them, but deep down, he believed that if he had these abilities, he should use them for good. In Smallville, he had been careful, using his magic only when absolutely necessary, but here in Metropolis, he found himself with more opportunities to help in small, subtle ways.

He’d mend a broken bike chain with a whisper of an incantation or quietly heal a scraped knee when no one was looking. He’d use his magic to nudge a stray cat away from traffic or to coax a wilting plant back to life. He was always careful, always discreet, making sure that no one noticed the little miracles he performed. It was his way of giving back, of using the gifts he had been given to make the world around him just a little bit better.

But there were times when he couldn’t help but step in and do more.

One evening, he walked past a small, family-owned bookstore that he had become fond of. The owner, an elderly man who had run the shop for decades, was sitting behind the counter with a look of deep worry on his face. Over the weeks, Y/N had noticed the shelves becoming sparser, and the customers fewer. The man had confided in Y/N once, mentioning how the business was struggling, how the bills were piling up, and how he feared he might lose the store if things didn’t turn around soon.

Y/N couldn’t bear to see the man lose everything he had worked so hard to build. So, that night, under the cover of darkness, Y/N returned to the bookstore. He stood outside the shop, focusing his energy on the building, weaving a spell that would attract more customers and give the store a sense of warmth and welcoming. He whispered incantations for prosperity and good fortune, sending out waves of magic that would subtly influence the minds of those who passed by, drawing them in with an inexplicable urge to browse and buy.

Over the next few days, Y/N was delighted to see the shop bustling with customers. The owner’s smile returned, and the store was once again filled with the chatter of people and the smell of fresh coffee brewing in the corner. The shelves began to fill up again, and the old man even had to hire an assistant to help him manage the increasing business.

Another time, he found himself playing guardian angel when he was walking home from work one night and spotted a young woman on the opposite side of the street, her pace quickening as she noticed a group of men following her. Y/N’s heart raced, and he quickly assessed the situation. He couldn’t confront them directly—he wasn’t a superhero—but he could help in other ways.

A few thoughts and concentrated focus, and suddenly a series of events unfolded: a nearby street light flickered and went out, casting the area in shadow; a loud crash from behind pulled the men's attention away from her; a gentle breeze nudged her toward a more populated, well-lit area. With the streetlight out, it gave her natural cover long enough to slip out of sight and into the safety of a nearby diner, the sound of her heels muffled by Y/N’s magic.

Y/N watched from a distance, relieved when the woman was safe inside, her would-be attackers now lost and confused. It wasn’t the first time he had done something like that, and it wouldn’t be the last.

Recently, he visited a local hospital where a friend’s child was being treated. The doctors were worried; the illness wasn’t responding to treatment, and the prognosis was grim. Y/N spent hours by the child’s bedside, speaking softly to him, holding his hand. When no one was looking, he let his magic flow through him, just a touch, just enough to help the child’s body fight back.

The next morning, the doctors were stunned by the sudden improvement. They couldn’t explain it, chalked it up to a miracle or a sudden turn of fate, but Y/N knew better. He slipped away before anyone could question it, leaving behind only a whispered prayer of thanks for the child’s recovery.

Y/N never took credit for any of his acts. And while they weren’t grand, weren’t the stuff of legends, they were enough to give him a sense of purpose, a way to use his gifts without drawing too much attention. He was careful, always careful, to remain in the shadows, to let the world think these small miracles were just coincidences, nothing more.

But now, standing in his apartment, staring out at the city skyline, Y/N couldn’t help but feel like he was right back where he started. The memories of Smallville were stronger than ever, and the loneliness he had tried so hard to escape felt more suffocating in this big city than it ever had in the small town.

It had been years since he left, but the memories of that quiet town still lingered in his mind, especially the memories of Clark Kent. He just couldn’t figure out why they had suddenly become so strong. Maybe it was the time of year, or maybe it was because he had been thinking about how he used his magic to help people in Metropolis—something that Clark would surely approve of, even if he never knew about it.

Or maybe it was because, despite everything he had done to distance himself, Clark had always been there, a constant presence in his thoughts, no matter how much Y/N tried to move on.

He took another sip of his juice, the cool liquid doing little to ease the tightness in his chest. He hadn’t seen Clark in years, hadn’t heard from him since he left Smallville, but the feelings he had for his old friend hadn’t faded. If anything, they had only grown stronger, deepening with time and distance. And that was what scared him the most—how much he still cared, how much he still missed him.

Y/N set his glass down on the windowsill, running a hand through his hair as he tried to shake off the nostalgia. He had a new life now, a good life, and he couldn’t afford to dwell on the past. Clark was probably living his own life, happy and successful, just as Y/N was trying to do.

But the more he tried to push the memories away, the more they clung to him, like shadows that refused to disappear. He sighed, turning his gaze out the window, hoping that the familiar sight of the city would ground him, would remind him of the new path he had chosen.

The city lights twinkled in the distance, a sea of illumination against the darkened sky. Y/N’s eyes scanned the skyline absently, taking in the familiar sights he had grown accustomed to since moving to Metropolis. But something caught his eye, something unusual that made his breath catch in his throat.

High above the city, a figure streaked across the sky, moving with impossible speed and grace. Y/N’s heart skipped a beat as he recognized the red and blue blur—a sight that had become increasingly familiar to the citizens of Metropolis. It was Superman.

Y/N watched, mesmerized, as the figure soared through the night, his movements precise and powerful. But as he watched, a strange sensation began to creep over him, a feeling that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. It wasn’t just awe or admiration—though those feelings were there, too—it was something deeper, something unsettling.

There was something about Superman, something in the way he moved, in the way he seemed to command the air around him, that tugged at the edges of Y/N’s consciousness. It was as if some hidden part of him recognized the hero in the sky, even though he knew that was impossible. He had never met Superman, had never been anywhere near him. And yet…

Y/N pressed his hand against the cool glass of the window, his heart pounding in his chest. His magic, usually so controlled, began to stir, responding to the swirl of emotions inside him. The sensation was both familiar and alien, a strange mix of nostalgia and unease that made his chest tighten.

As he watched Superman disappear into the distance, Y/N couldn’t shake the eerie feeling that had settled over him. It was as if the presence of the hero had awakened something inside him, something that had been dormant for years. And with that awakening came a sense of foreboding, a nagging feeling that his past was not as far behind him as he had hoped.

Y/N tore his gaze away from the window, trying to dispel the uneasy feeling that had taken root in his chest. But even as he turned away, the sense of familiarity lingered, haunting him like a ghost from a life he had tried so hard to leave behind.

He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, but the image of Superman remained burned into his mind, along with the inexplicable sense that something—someone—was drawing him back into a world he thought he had escaped.

And deep down, Y/N knew that this was only the beginning.

The grand ballroom of the Metropolis City Hall buzzed with chatter, the clinking of glasses, and the occasional burst of laughter. The charity event his job was sponsoring was in full swing, a glamorous affair with the city’s elite mingling and donating to a worthy cause. Y/N stood near the edge of the room, awkwardly holding a glass of water and wondering how quickly he could make a polite escape.

This wasn’t exactly his scene. Networking? Sure. Small talk? Not so much. Especially with these tone-deaf, overly stiff airheads.  He glanced around, trying to locate the nearest exit, but the sea of people made it difficult. And just when he thought found a suitable path of escape, a waiter with a tray of hors d'oeuvres suddenly appeared in front of him.

“Crab cake?”

“Uh, no thanks,” Y/N mumbled, sidestepping the tray, only to nearly collide with a woman in a sequined dress who was clearly on a mission to get to the bar. He offered a quick apology and finally made it to a quiet corner, where he could breathe again.

As he scanned the room, his thoughts drifted back to last night and a certain caped superhero. His curiosity combined with the still overwhelming feelings of longing and nostalgia had the magic in him feeling antsy. And the last thing Y/N needed was to accidentally cause a chandelier to implode or a champagne glass to refill itself endlessly.

He closed his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath to steady himself, not wanting to make a big scene considering he wanted to make a hasty and sneaky exit. As he opened his eyes, Y/N forced his thoughts away from Superman, away from the strange connection he’d felt the night before. He needed to focus on the present, on getting through this evening without incident.

Y/N sighed, taking a sip of his water. This was supposed to be a fresh start. The past was behind him, and he needed to keep it that way.

But fate, as it often does, had other plans. Little sneaky bastard.

Just as he was about to make a break for the exit, Y/N’s eyes caught sight of someone across the room, and his heart nearly stopped. There, standing by the dessert table with a bemused expression, was Clark Kent.

Of course, Clark would be standing around looking lost with his cute little confused expression. Even now as a grown man, Clark managed to keep his boyish and innocent demeanor. Y/N’s mouth went dry as his eyes took in the sight of the male—older, more polished, and just as big as ever.

Since they were little, Clark always stood out among the other kids for his build and height alone. And it looks like that didn't change with the way he towered over everyone in the room and how his broad shoulders filled out his suit perfectly, the fabric clinging just right in all the places that mattered. Y/N felt a familiar flutter in his chest, a mix of nostalgia and something more complicated that he’d been trying to ignore for years.

Clark, as if sensing someone’s gaze on him, looked up from the dessert table. His eyes, those same bright blue eyes that Y/N remembered so well, scanned the room briefly before landing directly on him. Y/N’s heart skipped a beat, and for a split second, he considered ducking behind the nearest potted plant.

For a moment, neither of them moved. Y/N could feel his pulse in his throat, and for a second, he entertained the idea of hiding behind the nearest potted plant.

But then Clark’s face lit up with a grin that could have powered the entire room, and he started making his way over, weaving through the crowd with the kind of determined politeness that only Clark could pull off.

Panic set in, and Y/N’s mind scrambled for a plan, but his feet were rooted to the spot, his body betraying him. All he could do was watch as Clark closed the distance between them, that familiar grin never leaving his face.

“Y/N!” Clark’s voice was as warm and friendly as Y/N remembered, and before he knew it, he was being pulled into a hug that was just as firm and comforting as it had always been.

Y/N stiffened for a moment, caught off guard by the unexpected embrace. When Clark finally pulled back, still keeping a hand on Y/N’s shoulder as if afraid he might vanish, Y/N couldn’t help but notice the slight smudge of chocolate on Clark’s tie. It was such a Clark thing to have—always a little messy, always endearing.

“Clark,” Y/N managed to say, his voice coming out more breathless than he intended. “It’s been a while.”

Clark beamed at him, the smile reaching his eyes in that way that always made Y/N feel like everything was going to be okay. “Yeah, it really has,” Clark said, his tone filled with a warmth that made Y/N’s heart ache with memories of simpler times. “I almost didn’t recognize you without the Smallville backdrop.”

Y/N let out a small laugh, trying to keep things light despite the sudden rush of emotions threatening to overwhelm him. “Yeah, I guess we’ve both changed a bit.”

Clark’s gaze lingered on Y/N’s face, a mix of curiosity and concern in his eyes. It was clear that Clark had questions, but to his credit, he didn’t push. Instead, he gave Y/N one of those easy, reassuring smiles that had always been able to calm him down. “I’m really glad to see you again. I’ve missed you, Y/N.”

There it was—the punch to the gut that Y/N had been dreading. He had missed Clark too, more than he wanted to admit. But standing here, face-to-face with him after all these years, all those old fears and feelings began to resurface. The fear of Clark discovering the truth about his powers, about his feelings. The fear of losing the one person who had always meant the most to him.

“I’ve missed you too,” Y/N said, the words slipping out before he could stop them. It was the truth, but saying it out loud made the tightness in his chest even worse.

Clark’s smile softened, and for a brief moment, it felt like they were the only two people in the room. Y/N could almost believe that they could pick up where they left off, that everything could go back to the way it was. But deep down, he knew it could never be that simple.

His smile didn’t waver, but his eyes narrowed slightly, a familiar look of concern flickering across his face. “You okay? You seem a little… off.”

Y/N forced a laugh, hoping it didn’t sound as strained as it felt. “I’m fine, just—uh—surprised, I guess. I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Well, surprise!” Clark laughed with his usual shy manner that was somehow still charming for Y/N’s frayed nerves. “I’ve been working at the Daily Planet. Moved to Metropolis not too long ago. How about you? What brings you here?”

“Work,” Y/N answered quickly, trying to keep the conversation light. “Got a job offer I couldn’t turn down.”

Clark nodded, his eyes never leaving Y/N. It was as if he was trying to read him, to figure out what was going on beneath the surface. For a moment, Y/N was afraid that Clark could see right through him, could see the turmoil and conflict he was struggling with.

But then, the moment passed, and Clark was smiling again, his expression softening.

Y/N cleared his throat, forcing his thoughts away from the past and back to the present. "So, the Daily Planet, huh? That’s a pretty big deal," he said, trying to keep the conversation light.

Clark’s eyes lit up, and he nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah! It’s been a dream come true. And the best part? I get to work with some amazing people—Lois Lane and Jimmy Olsen. They’re right over there, actually," Clark added, his tone suddenly turning a bit more nervous. "You’ve got to meet them!"

Before Y/N could even process the idea, Clark grabbed his arm, leading him through the crowd with an urgency that caught Y/N off guard. He barely had time to adjust before they were standing in front of a petite woman with sharp eyes and a confident demeanor, who was mid-conversation with a young man enthusiastically fiddling with a vintage camera.

"Lois! Jimmy!" Clark called out, drawing their attention.

Lois turned first, her eyes narrowing slightly as she took in Y/N. Then her expression softened into a warm, welcoming smile. "Clark! Who’s this?"

Clark beamed, looking from Lois to Y/N with a hint of nervous energy. "This is Y/N. We grew up together in Smallville."

"Smallville?" Lois’s eyebrow arched with clear interest. "Now that’s a place with some stories, I bet."

Jimmy, now peering at Y/N through the lens of his camera, quickly snapped a picture before lowering it with an apologetic grin. "Sorry, couldn’t resist. It’s a habit."

Y/N chuckled, shaking his head. "No worries. I’m used to it."

Lois leaned in, her curiosity clearly piqued. "So, Y/N, what was Clark like back in Smallville? I can only imagine."

Y/N glanced at Clark, who looked both hopeful and slightly anxious. "Clark and I were pretty much inseparable growing up," Y/N said with a smile, trying to keep the conversation light. "He was always the guy you could count on, the one who’d help you out of a jam and then offer you pie afterward."

Lois’s eyes twinkled with intrigue, clearly not ready to let the topic go. "Pie and jam, huh? Sounds like you two got into some interesting situations. Any fun stories you care to share?"

Y/N felt his heart rate pick up. He could sense the inquisitiveness behind Lois’s casual tone, the way she was gently probing for more. She was good—really good. "Oh, you know, small-town stuff," he said, forcing a chuckle. "Mostly just boring farm work and school."

Clark, sensing Y/N’s discomfort, quickly jumped in. "Yeah, nothing too exciting. Just your average childhood, right, Y/N?"

"Right," Y/N agreed, a bit too quickly. He could feel Lois’s eyes on him, studying him, and it made his magic stir uneasily. The last thing he wanted was for her to start asking more pointed questions that might lead her to the truth.

Lois didn’t miss a beat. "So, you two must have been really close, then. I bet you know all of Clark’s secrets," she said with a teasing smile, though there was a hint of genuine curiosity in her voice.

Y/N’s stomach dropped. He forced another laugh, this one more strained. "Well, everyone’s got their secrets, right?"

Lois raised an eyebrow, clearly catching the subtle tension in Y/N’s voice. "True," she said slowly, her eyes narrowing slightly as if trying to piece together a puzzle. "But something tells me you’re not just any old friend from Smallville."

Clark, sensing that the conversation was veering into dangerous territory, let out a nervous laugh. "Lois, come on, don’t interrogate him on the first meeting!"

Jimmy, sensing the shift in tone, chimed in, grinning as he tried to lighten the mood. "Yeah, Lois, ease up! You don’t want to scare off Clark’s oldest friend."

Lois gave a soft laugh, raising her hands in mock surrender. "Alright, alright. I’ll back off… for now."

Y/N smiled, but there was a tightness in his chest that he couldn’t shake. Lois’s perceptiveness had always been one of her strengths, and it was clear she was picking up on more than he wanted to reveal.

"Seriously, though," Lois said, her tone softening as she gave Y/N a more genuine smile. "It’s good to meet you. Any friend of Clark’s is a friend of ours."

Y/N relaxed slightly, appreciating the warm reception despite his earlier nerves. "Thanks, Lois. I appreciate that."

As the conversation continued, Y/N found himself relaxing a bit more, though the earlier tension still lingered in the back of his mind. He knew he’d have to be careful around Lois—her curiosity and sharp instincts were not something to be underestimated.

Lois, ever the sharp-eyed reporter, leaned closer to Y/N. "So, what brings you to Metropolis? Work?"

"Yeah," Y/N nodded, "I got an offer I couldn’t turn down."

Lois nodded, impressed. "Well, welcome to the city. You know, we’re always looking for interesting people to feature in the Planet. Maybe we’ll run into each other more often."

"Maybe," Y/N said, feeling a bit more at ease. "It’s a small world after all."

Clark chuckled at that, his earlier nervousness fading as the conversation flowed more naturally. "I’m really glad we ran into each other, Y/N. We should definitely hang out more. I mean, if you’re not too busy with work."

Realistically, Y/N should have declined. He should have politely excused himself and gone home, putting an end to the whole thing. But when he looked at Clark, saw the hope and excitement in his eyes, he couldn't bring himself to say no.

All his nervous thoughts and reservations about what could happen if he allowed himself to get close to Clark again seemed to just fade to the back of his mind as he re-connected with him and got to know his two friends. A new familiar feeling also settled in place as well, but not so much nostalgia.

It was more of something he didn't even remember feeling. A sense of ease and comfort, his magic calm and feeling completely grounded. A feeling he hadn't experienced in a long time but something that wasn't new or unfamiliar, a very welcomed sensation and peace.

"I'd love to," Y/N said, his heart skipping a beat.

Clark's smile was brighter than the sun, and though Y/N knew he was in trouble just for that, emotions and impulse overtook his logic. Thus, he didn't really care.

As the night continued, Y/N found himself more at ease, the earlier tension gradually dissipating. Lois, ever the investigative reporter, kept throwing glances his way, but she seemed content for now, her curiosity temporarily satisfied. Jimmy, meanwhile, was snapping pictures of everything and everyone, his energy infectious.

Y/N had to admit, despite his initial apprehension, he was enjoying himself. The company was good, the conversation flowed easily, and for the first time in a long time, he felt like he was part of something. A small part of him wondered if this was what he had been missing—connection, camaraderie, a sense of belonging.

Clark leaned in closer, a warm smile on his face. "So, Y/N, how have you been? I mean, really been?"

Y/N paused, considering his answer. He could have brushed off the question, given a generic response about work being busy and life being hectic. But something about the way Clark asked, the genuine concern in his voice, made Y/N want to be honest.

"I’ve been… okay," Y/N said, the words coming out slower than he expected. "Moving to Metropolis has been a big change, but it’s good. I’m still finding my way, I guess."

Clark nodded, his expression softening with understanding. "I get that. Moving here was a big adjustment for me too. But you know, it helps when you’ve got friends around. People you can rely on."

Y/N smiled at that, a warmth spreading through him. "Yeah, it does."

Lois, sensing the shift in the conversation, jumped back in with her trademark curiosity. "So, Y/N, what exactly do you do for work? You mentioned an offer you couldn’t turn down."

Y/N hesitated, not wanting to reveal too much. "I work in consulting," he said, keeping it vague. "It’s a bit of everything, really. I help businesses with strategy, operations, that sort of thing."

Lois’s eyes narrowed slightly, clearly not satisfied with the lack of detail, but she let it slide, for now. "That sounds interesting. Metropolis must be a great place for that kind of work."

"It is," Y/N replied, grateful she didn’t press further.

Jimmy, ever the enthusiastic one, suddenly popped up between them, holding out his camera. "Hey, how about a picture? You guys look great together!"

Y/N barely had time to react before Jimmy was positioning them for a shot, his camera clicking away. Clark chuckled, clearly used to Jimmy’s antics, while Lois struck a pose with practiced ease.

As they waited for the flash, Y/N couldn’t help but feel a sense of surrealism wash over him. Here he was, reconnecting with an old friend, surrounded by new ones, in a city that was starting to feel less like a strange place and more like a potential home.

The camera flashed, capturing the moment, and Jimmy grinned as he checked the screen. "Perfect! This one’s definitely going in the album."

Lois nodded in agreement, a smile on her face. "Yeah, this is one for the books. You’re officially part of the crew now, Y/N."

Y/N laughed, the sound genuine and light. "Well, I guess there’s no turning back now."

Clark’s smile was warm, his eyes shining with something that made Y/N’s heart skip a beat. "I’m really glad you’re here, Y/N. It feels like old times."

Y/N nodded, feeling a mix of emotions swirl within him. "Yeah, it does."

As the evening drew on, the four of them continued to chat, the conversation flowing easily between light-hearted banter and more serious topics. Y/N felt a connection with Clark and his friends that he hadn’t felt in a long time, and for the first time since moving to Metropolis, he allowed himself to relax and enjoy the moment.

But as the night wore on and the event began to wind down, Y/N couldn’t shake the nagging feeling at the back of his mind. Lois’s earlier questions had been harmless enough, but he knew her type—persistent, sharp, and always on the lookout for a story. He couldn’t afford to let his guard down too much, especially with his magic always threatening to reveal itself.

Yet, despite the risks, Y/N found himself wanting to spend more time with Clark, to catch up on the years they’d missed, and maybe even find a way to make this new life in Metropolis work. It was a dangerous line to walk, but for tonight, he was willing to take that risk.

As they all said their goodbyes and made plans to meet up again soon, Y/N felt a sense of contentment settle over him. Maybe this fresh start in Metropolis wouldn’t be as complicated as he feared. Maybe, just maybe, he could find a way to balance the old and the new, to keep his secrets while building something real with the people who were quickly becoming more than just acquaintances.

And maybe, this time, since he was older and more aware and mature, he could keep his feelings for Clark in check.

Yeah, that hope didn't last long.

Y/N sighed as he stared up at the ceiling of his apartment, reflecting on how quickly things had spiraled out of control since reconnecting with Clark. It had only been a few weeks, but in that short time, his life had become a whirlwind of old emotions, new challenges, and unexpected complications.

He’d spent more time with Clark, Lois, and Jimmy than he had anticipated. There were coffee runs, after-work dinners, and late-night brainstorming sessions where Lois would excitedly discuss her latest scoop while Jimmy showed off his latest photos. Clark, ever the supportive friend, would listen intently, adding his own insights with that same gentle warmth that had always made Y/N feel at ease.

Lois and Jimmy were friendly and welcoming, but Y/N could never fully relax around them. He still had to always be on guard, constantly aware of the magic simmering just beneath the surface.

And despite the camaraderie, Y/N couldn’t shake the feeling of being out of place. It wasn’t just that he was trying to reintegrate into Clark’s life; it was the constant need to keep his magic under control, especially around Lois and Jimmy. The two of them were sharp—Lois, with her inquisitive nature, and Jimmy, with his keen eye for detail. They’d pick up on any slip-up, any sign that Y/N wasn’t just an ordinary guy from Smallville.

And then there were the moments of crisis—because Metropolis was never short on those. It seemed like every time Y/N was with the trio, something would happen. A runaway bus, a building fire, some random new villain on the loose—something always required Superman’s intervention. And every single time, Clark would disappear with a flimsy excuse, only for Superman to show up moments later.

The first time it happened, Y/N had been at a food truck with Clark and Jimmy, enjoying a rare sunny afternoon. They were laughing about something silly Jimmy had said when suddenly, the sound of screeching tires and panicked screams filled the air. Without missing a beat, Clark had mumbled something about needing to make a quick call and bolted, leaving Y/N standing there confused with Lois and Jimmy. Moments later, Superman was on the scene, saving the day like clockwork.

Lois and Jimmy had immediately sprung into action, Jimmy snapping photos while Lois started interviewing witnesses. They had been weirdly calm about the whole thing, a lot of things actually when Y/N thought about it. It was like Smallville all over again, things that should cause people to react with caution and apprehension, but instead, they barely blinked an eye.

It didn’t help that every time Clark returned, he looked winded and disheveled, and Lois would give him a knowing glance that made Y/N’s stomach twist with unease.

Meanwhile, he'd also been using his magic discreetly in these various scenarios to help keep people safe and minimize destruction and casualties. But in the chaos, he’d nearly been caught by Lois, who had turned around just as Y/N was subtly redirecting a beam of wood away from a trapped child.

“Hey, how’d you do that?” she’d asked, her sharp eyes narrowing in suspicion.

Y/N had stammered out a weak excuse, something about adrenaline and luck, but he could tell Lois wasn’t convinced. She’d given him that look—the one that said she wasn’t done with him yet.

And it wasn’t the last time, either. Every time something happened, Y/N found himself using his magic to help, and every time, he came dangerously close to being caught by Lois. She was perceptive, and it was clear she was starting to get suspicious. Her questions about his past, about his connection to Clark, were getting more pointed, and Y/N could feel the pressure mounting.

But there was another element to this that Y/N hadn’t anticipated—jealousy. The more time he spent with the group, the more he noticed how close Clark and Lois were. It wasn’t just their professional partnership; it was the way they interacted, the easy banter, the shared looks, the inside jokes. Y/N couldn’t help but notice the way Clark’s eyes lit up whenever Lois was around, how he seemed more at ease with her than anyone else.

It irritated Y/N more than he wanted to admit. He knew it was irrational—Clark was allowed to have close friends, and Lois was obviously important to him. But every time he saw them together, it felt like a thorn in his side, a constant reminder of how complicated things had become. It didn’t help that Lois was so naturally curious, always asking questions about his and Clark’s past, digging into their history with a relentless enthusiasm that made Y/N squirm.

And then there were the quiet moments—those rare instances when it was just Y/N and Clark, away from the chaos of the city. They’d talk about everything and nothing, slipping into the easy rhythm of their past friendship. But every time, Y/N felt the old feelings bubbling up, stronger than ever.

Like the night they’d gone for a walk along the Metropolis River. The city lights reflected off the water, casting a soft glow over everything. Clark had been unusually quiet, his hands tucked into his pockets as they strolled. Y/N had felt the tension between them, the unspoken words hanging in the air.

“I’m glad you’re here, Y/N,” Clark had said suddenly, breaking the silence. “It’s like… it feels right, having you around again.”

Y/N had smiled, but it hadn’t reached his eyes. He wanted to say something—anything—that would match the sincerity in Clark’s voice, but the words had caught in his throat. Instead, he’d just nodded, trying to ignore the way his heart raced every time Clark looked at him like that.

But every time they were together, every time Clark smiled at him or brushed against him accidentally, Y/N felt his resolve weakening. It was getting harder to pretend that everything was fine, that he didn’t still have feelings for Clark.

And as they spent more time together, Y/N couldn’t help but wonder—did Clark feel it too? There were moments, subtle ones, where Y/N thought he saw something in Clark’s eyes, a lingering gaze, a soft smile that seemed meant just for him. But then Clark would pull back, or Lois would step in, and Y/N was left questioning if it was all in his head.

But now, lying on his couch and staring at the ceiling, Y/N couldn’t ignore it anymore. The old feelings hadn’t just resurfaced—they were drowning him, pulling him under with a force he couldn’t fight.

It wasn’t just about Clark, though that was a huge part of it. It was the fear of what would happen if Clark—or worse, Lois and Jimmy—found out about his magic. They were all so caught up in their own world of secrets and dangers, and Y/N wasn’t sure if he could handle being part of it. He wasn’t sure if he could keep up the act much longer.

His phone buzzed on the coffee table, pulling him out of his thoughts. He glanced at the screen and saw a message from Clark: Hey, want to grab dinner with Lois and Jimmy? We’re thinking Thai.

Y/N hesitated for a moment before typing a quick reply: Sure, sounds good.

As he grabbed his jacket and headed out the door, Y/N couldn’t shake the feeling that he was walking a tightrope, balancing between the life he had built for himself and the one he had left behind. And with every step, he was getting closer to falling off.

As Y/N walked to the restaurant, he kept his hands stuffed deep in his pockets, trying to calm the unease that had settled in his chest. He needed to get a grip, to find a way to keep his feelings in check before they, and thus his magic spiraled out of control. The last thing he wanted was for Clark to notice—or worse, for Lois to start asking questions.

By the time he reached the restaurant, Y/N had managed to push his anxiety down, forcing a smile as he spotted Clark, Lois, and Jimmy waiting outside. Clark waved him over, his smile as bright as ever.

"Hey, glad you could make it," Clark greeted him with his usual warm and bright tone.

"Heh, wouldn't miss it," Y/N chuckled, trying to keep his voice casual.

As they ate, Y/N couldn’t help but notice the easy dynamic between Lois and Clark. There was a familiarity there, an unspoken understanding that made Y/N’s chest tighten with a mix of jealousy and longing. He wanted to be part of that, to be as close to Clark as Lois was.

But then Lois turned to him, her sharp eyes studying him with that same curiosity he’d noticed at the gala. “So, Y/N, what was Clark like back in Smallville? He never talks much about his hometown.”

Y/N felt his pulse quicken. He shot a quick glance at Clark, who was suddenly very interested in his pad Thai.

“Oh, you know,” Y/N began, trying to keep his tone light, “just your average small-town kid. We spent a lot of time getting into trouble and trying to keep out of it.”

Lois raised an eyebrow, clearly not satisfied with the vague answer. “Really? I find that hard to believe. Clark’s practically the poster boy for responsibility.”

Y/N forced a laugh, trying to deflect Lois’s probing gaze. “Yeah, well, even poster boys have their moments. We were just kids, you know? Doing dumb stuff like exploring abandoned barns or sneaking out to the creek after dark. Nothing too wild.”

Lois leaned in slightly, her eyes narrowing with that trademark inquisitiveness. “Come on, Y/N, you’re holding out on me. I want the juicy details. What kind of trouble did Clark get into?”

Y/N could feel the heat rising in his face, a mix of nerves, and the pressure of trying to avoid any slip-ups. “Honestly, it was mostly me dragging him into stuff. Clark was always the one keeping me out of serious trouble.”

Clark chuckled nervously, his eyes darting between Y/N and Lois. “Yeah, Y/N was always the adventurous one. I was just along for the ride.”

Jimmy, sensing the tension, tried to lighten the mood. “I don’t know, Lois. I think Clark’s just good at covering his tracks. Bet he’s got a whole secret rebellious side we don’t know about.”

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat at Jimmy’s words, the irony of the statement not lost on him. If only they knew just how many secrets Clark was hiding—or how many he was keeping himself.

Lois, however, wasn’t so easily deterred. “I don’t doubt it,” she said, her eyes flicking back to Y/N with a knowing smile. “And I bet you’ve got some secrets of your own, Y/N. You seem like the type who’s good at keeping things under wraps.”

Y/N’s smile faltered for just a second before he forced it back into place. “Who doesn’t have a few secrets?” he replied, trying to keep his tone light and nonchalant.

Lois’s gaze lingered on him a moment longer, and Y/N could practically feel her trying to piece together the puzzle she was sure he was hiding. He shifted uncomfortably, desperate to change the subject.

“Anyway,” Y/N said, his voice a bit too loud in his haste to redirect the conversation, “what about you guys? You’ve all been working together for a while now. Any crazy stories from the Daily Planet?”

Clark gave him a grateful smile, clearly relieved at the change in topic. “Oh, you know, it’s mostly just chasing down leads and trying to stay out of trouble ourselves.”

Lois smirked. “Mostly. There have been a few close calls, though. Like that time we were covering that gala and—”

But before she could continue, there was a sudden commotion outside the restaurant. The sound of screeching tires and shouting filled the air, followed by the unmistakable sound of something crashing into a building.

Clark’s expression immediately shifted to one of concern. “I’ll, uh, be right back,” he mumbled, already moving toward the door.

Moments later, Superman was on the scene, and Y/N found himself once again in the midst of a crisis, trying to discreetly use his magic to help those around him. He directed falling debris away from pedestrians, subtly reinforced a crumbling wall, and calmed panicked civilians—all while trying to stay out of Lois’s line of sight.

As Y/N moved through the chaos, he couldn’t help but keep one eye on Lois. She was already pulling out her phone, likely trying to reach out to sources or start documenting the scene for the Daily Planet. But more than once, Y/N caught her glancing his way, her sharp eyes narrowing as if she were trying to figure something out.

It didn’t help that every time Y/N used his magic, Lois seemed to notice something was off. Like when he subtly redirected a falling streetlight away from a group of bystanders, Lois had been nearby and had whipped around, her eyes narrowing as she spotted Y/N standing there, his hand half-raised.

“Where, how did you—” she started, but Y/N cut her off quickly.

“Uh, just lucky timing,” he said, flashing what he hoped was a convincing grin.

Lois didn’t look convinced, but before she could press further, another explosion rocked the area as Superman swooped across the sky in a fight with some new villain. Lois’s attention was immediately drawn away as she dashed off to get closer to the action, leaving Y/N with a brief moment of relief.

But it was short-lived. He could feel the weight of his secret bearing down on him, the fear that at any moment, Lois would start putting the pieces together. She was too perceptive, too determined to uncover the truth, and Y/N was running out of excuses.

Y/N’s heart pounded as he watched Lois dart away, her focus now on Superman’s battle overhead. The city block was in chaos—buildings crumbling, cars overturned, and terrified civilians running for cover. Y/N could feel the familiar tingle of his magic, urging him to act, but he hesitated. He was too exposed, too close to Lois and Jimmy, who were both still in the thick of things, trying to stay safe while getting their story.

But then he saw it—a mother and her young child, trapped beneath a fallen piece of debris, their terrified cries cutting through the noise. Without thinking, Y/N moved. He knew he couldn’t just stand by and do nothing.

Darting through the chaos, he reached the trapped pair, his heart racing. The chunk of concrete pinning them was far too heavy for him to lift on his own, but that didn’t stop him from trying. He pretended to struggle with it for a moment, glancing around to make sure no one was watching too closely. Then, with a whispered incantation, he let his magic flow, lifting the debris just enough for the mother to pull her child to safety.

“Go! Get out of here!” Y/N urged them, and they didn’t need to be told twice. They scrambled to their feet and ran, not looking back.

But as Y/N released his grip on the concrete, allowing it to crash back to the ground, he felt a prickling at the back of his neck. He turned just in time to see Lois standing a few feet away, her eyes wide with a mixture of shock and suspicion.

“Y/N…” she started, her voice barely audible over the sounds of destruction around them. “How did you—”

Before she could finish, a loud crash interrupted her, drawing their attention to the ongoing battle above. Superman was locked in a fierce struggle with the villain, who was wielding some kind of energy weapon that was tearing through the city with reckless abandon.

Lois hesitated for a split second, torn between confronting Y/N and rushing to cover the story. The journalist in her won out, and she turned to run towards the action, but not before shooting Y/N one last look, a promise that this conversation wasn’t over.

Y/N let out a shaky breath, but there was no time to dwell on what Lois had seen. The battle was escalating, and the destruction was growing worse by the second. He knew he had to do more, had to use his magic more openly if he wanted to save lives. The fear of exposure warred with his instinct to help, but his desire to help won out.

As Y/N wove his way through the chaos, he could feel his magic surging within him, responding to his need to act. With each subtle spell, he could feel the pressure mounting, the risk of being discovered growing with every passing moment. But he couldn't stop, not when so many lives were at stake.

As Y/N moved through the chaos, helping people where he could, he lost himself in the urgency of the moment. He pulled a child out of harm's way, extinguished small fires with a flick of his wrist, and used his magic to steady a teetering scaffold that was threatening to collapse onto a group of bystanders. Every action was instinctual, his focus so intense that he didn’t even notice how close he was getting to the epicenter of the danger.

Meanwhile, Superman was engaged in a fierce battle with the villain, their clash sending shockwaves through the city. Clark’s attention was divided, trying to subdue the threat while keeping an eye on his friends below. But in the midst of the fight, he noticed Y/N inching dangerously close to the conflict.

“Y/N, get back!” Superman shouted, his voice strained with panic as he saw Y/N unwittingly step into the path of a collapsing billboard that had been dislodged during the battle.

Time seemed to slow as Clark realized he wouldn’t reach Y/N in time, especially with his opponent actively trying to block his way. His heart pounded in his chest, fear gripping him like a vice. But just as the massive billboard was about to crush him, Y/N’s instincts kicked in.

Without even thinking, Y/N threw up his hands, and a powerful force field erupted around him, deflecting the billboard away and sending it crashing harmlessly to the ground. The magic burst out of him like a tidal wave, raw and unfiltered, saving him in the nick of time.

The impact of what had just happened hit Y/N all at once. He stood there, breathless and trembling, staring at the spot where the billboard had fallen. His heart raced as he realized how close he’d come to being crushed—and how easily he had saved himself with powers.

Superman, who had seen the entire event unfold, hovered in the air, momentarily stunned. His mind raced, trying to comprehend what he had just witnessed. Y/N had powers—real, undeniable powers. And in that instant, a dozen memories from their time together in Smallville flashed through his mind, moments that suddenly made sense in a new, startling way.

The villain took advantage of Superman’s distraction, launching one final attack. But Superman, fueled by a surge of determination, quickly regained focus. With a swift, powerful strike, he knocked the villain off his feet, sending him crashing to the ground, unconscious and defeated.

The battle was over, but the tension in the air was far from dissipated.

Superman landed softly on the ground, his eyes never leaving Y/N. The adrenaline from the fight was still coursing through him, but now it was mixed with a cocktail of emotions—shock, confusion, and something deeper, something more personal.

Y/N looked up, locking eyes with Superman for the first time. The two of them stood there, surrounded by the remnants of the battle, but it felt as if the world had narrowed down to just the two of them.

“Y/N,” Superman began, his voice uncharacteristically shaky. He took a step forward, but before he could say more, Lois and Jimmy rushed over, their faces a mix of concern and relief.

Superman took a step toward Y/N, his mind racing with questions, but before he could say more, Lois and Jimmy rushed over, their faces a mix of concern and urgency.

"Superman," Lois called out, her voice edged with urgency as she glanced around. "We’re in the middle of the street. People are starting to notice."

Jimmy nodded, his camera hanging by his side as he scanned the area. “Yeah, maybe we should take this somewhere a little less… public.”

Superman blinked, realizing the gravity of the situation. There were indeed a few onlookers, phones out, capturing the aftermath of the battle. The last thing he needed was more attention, especially with Y/N’s secret now out in the open.

He turned to Y/N, his eyes filled with both concern and determination. “Y/N, we need to talk. But not here. Do you trust me?”

Y/N, still shaken from everything that had happened, hesitated for only a moment before nodding. “Yeah, I trust you.”

Superman gave him a small, reassuring smile before glancing back at Lois and Jimmy. “I’ll explain everything later, but right now, I need to get Y/N out of here.”

Lois gave a curt nod, understanding the need for discretion. “We’ll cover for you. Just… be careful.”

Jimmy shot Y/N a quick thumbs-up, though his expression was tinged with curiosity and concern. “We’ll handle the crowd. Go.”

With a final nod, Superman wrapped an arm around Y/N’s waist, holding him securely. “Hold on tight.”

Before Y/N could fully process what was happening, they were airborne, the ground falling away as Superman lifted them into the sky. The wind rushed past them as they soared above the city, the chaos of the battle below quickly becoming a distant memory.

Y/N clung to Superman, his heart racing not just from the flight but from the whirlwind of emotions and revelations that had just unfolded. He had always admired Superman from afar, but now, being so close, knowing that this was Clark—it was almost too much to take in.

They flew in silence, the cityscape sprawling out beneath them, until finally, Superman began to descend, landing gently on the rooftop of the Daily Planet building. The iconic globe loomed above them, casting long shadows in the setting sun.

Superman set Y/N down carefully, stepping back to give him space. For a moment, they just stood there, the weight of everything unsaid hanging between them.

Clark, still in his Superman suit but with the familiar warmth of his old friend in his eyes, took a step closer. “I know. It’s a lot to take in. For both of us.”

Y/N nodded, his mind racing with a thousand questions. “So, you're Superman?”

A faint blush along with his nervous smile appeared on his face, a glimpse of the boy Y/N had known. "Yeah, I guess you could say that."

A moment of silence passed before Y/N spoke again, "I really don't get how people don't catch on faster. The only visible difference is the glasses," he said, gesturing to the frames on Clark's face.

Clark looked confused for a moment, "Wait, huh? Did you know?"

"Well, not for sure. But I had my suspicions. I mean, the glasses, the timing of your disappearances, the fact that you were never around whenever Superman showed up... it wasn't exactly hard to put the pieces together. But, I didn't know until I saw you up close. Until now, whenever you were Superman, I wasn't close enough to get a good look. Then, you were right in front of me, and well, it was like, 'Oh yeah, that makes complete sense,'" Y/N admitted, rambling a little.

"Oh," was all Clark could manage, a sheepish look on his face.

"Why did you never tell me?" Y/N asked, his voice soft.

Clark sighed, his expression conflicted. "I wanted to, believe me. But it's not exactly something I can just go around telling people. And after everything that happened back in Smallville, I didn't want to put you in any more danger. I guess, we were both keeping secrets."

Y/N paused for a moment, now realizing the irony of the situation before laughing under his breath, "Sneaky little bastard strikes again."

"Huh?"

"Nothing, just a little joke to myself," Y/N explained, before pausing and looking at his friend, taking in his entire superhero appearance, "Wow, looking at you now, and thinking back to everything, everything now makes so much sense."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you being able to stop cars without getting injured. Or people always calling your parents to ask for you when their tractor was broken down. And that time you and Suzy were playing in Old Man Ferris's field and he almost mowed her over with the shredder but you saved her and broke the shredder in the process. I always thought it was weird, but now, it's obvious," Y/N said, his tone a mixture of amusement and disbelief.

"I mean, it could've just been weak metal," Clark tried to argue, but the blush creeping up his neck betrayed his embarrassment.

"Clark, no offense, but anyone else verse that shredder would've been minced meat. And yet, one run-in with you and it had been totaled with no chance of repair. Which, did he ever get a new one?"

"Yeah, the town all chipped in to get him one while my parents got him insurance on it for a year as an apology."

"Hmm, you know for the amount of weird things that have gone on in that town between you and me alone, you'd think someone would've said something or freaked out," Y/N commented, shaking his head.

"Yeah, well, Smallville is a weird place," Clark chuckled, a hint of nostalgia in his voice.

"That it is," Y/N agreed, a fond smile tugging at his lips.

Clark cleared his throat while rubbing the back of his neck, "I guess things also make sense for you too. All those times that lights and power in school went out after you got angry, things disappearing and reappearing in random places, and that one time you got in an argument with a squirrel. Can you talk to animals with your powers?"

"Okay, first of all, we didn't have to bring that specific instance up. You remember everyone made fun of me for like a month after that happened. And either way, that squirrel had it coming," Y/N said, a slight pout on his face.

"It was a squirrel, Y/N."

"And it was a jerk!"

"How was it a jerk?"

"It kept throwing acorns at me and always running at me like it wanted to fight. I can't understand animals naturally unless there's a spell for it that I just haven't figured out, but they do seem to gravitate towards me for whatever reason. But, that squirrel had it out for me since freshman year and I was just trying to defend myself," Y/N argued, his voice taking on a slightly whiny tone.

"By arguing with it?"

"Well, yes," Y/N said, crossing his arms, "But, it was a very heated argument."

"If you say so," Clark laughed, his eyes bright with amusement.

Clark's laughter filled the air, and for a moment, it felt like they were back in Smallville, two friends joking around like they used to. But the reality of their situation quickly settled back in, and the weight of everything that had happened—everything that had been revealed—hung between them.

"So, magic," Clark said after a beat, his tone more serious. "I can't believe you were hiding that all these years."

Y/N shrugged, looking down at his feet. "It wasn't exactly something I could just go around telling people. Especially not in Smallville. I barely understood it myself, and my parents were terrified of what might happen if anyone found out. They were always worried that some government agency would swoop in and take me away if I ever slipped up."

Clark nodded, his expression thoughtful. "I get that. My parents had similar fears about me. We were both trying to protect each other, in our own way."

"Yeah," Y/N agreed quietly. He glanced up at Clark, a hesitant smile on his face. "It's kind of ironic, isn't it? Both of us with these...abilities and we never knew about each other."

Clark smiled back, but there was something in his eyes—something that made Y/N's heart skip a beat. "I wish I had known," Clark said softly. "Maybe things would have been different."

"Maybe," Y/N echoed, the word hanging in the air between them.

A comfortable silence settled over them, the kind that only old friends could share. The sun was beginning to set, casting a warm glow over the city. Y/N found himself getting lost in the moment, in the quiet presence of his friend, the tension of the past few weeks slowly ebbing away.

But then Clark spoke again, his voice filled with an emotion that Y/N couldn't quite place. "You know, I've always felt like there was something more between us. Even back then."

Y/N's breath caught in his throat. He looked at Clark, his eyes searching his friend's face for any sign that he might be joking, but all he saw was sincerity. "What do you mean?"

Clark hesitated as if trying to find the right words. "I mean... I've always cared about you, Y/N. More than just as a friend."

The confession hung in the air, and Y/N's heart pounded in his chest. He had dreamed of hearing those words for so long, but now that they were here, he didn't know how to respond. His feelings for Clark had been buried deep for years, hidden away to protect both himself and their friendship.

"Clark, I..." Y/N began, but his voice faltered. He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. "I care about you too. A lot. But this—" He gestured to the city below them, to Superman’s suit, to everything around them. "This is complicated. Our lives are so different now."

Clark stepped closer, his expression earnest. "I know it’s complicated. But maybe we can figure it out together."

Y/N looked into Clark's eyes, seeing the hope and the warmth there, and for a moment, he allowed himself to believe that maybe, just maybe, they could make this work. He thought about all the things they had been through, the secrets they had kept, the bond that had never really broken despite the years and the distance.

He smiled softly, his heart finally settling into a steady rhythm. "I'd like that," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Clark's smile was brighter than the sunset behind him, and Y/N felt a warmth spread through him that had nothing to do with the fading sunlight. For the first time in a long while, things felt right. Complicated, yes, but right.

But before they could say anything more, the door to the rooftop burst open, and Lois and Jimmy came rushing in, both looking out of breath and a little frantic.

"Clark! Y/N!" Lois called out, her eyes wide as she took in the scene before her. "You guys okay? We’ve been looking everywhere for you."

"Yeah, we’re fine," Clark said, quickly stepping back from Y/N, though he couldn’t quite hide the smile on his face.

Jimmy glanced between the two of them, a knowing smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. "You know, you guys really should be more careful. The paparazzi would have a field day if they caught Superman having a heart-to-heart with some random guy on a rooftop."

Lois rolled her eyes but nodded in agreement. "He's right. We should get off this rooftop before someone spots us."

Clark looked at Y/N, his expression a mix of reluctance and agreement. "Yeah, you're right." He turned back to Y/N, his voice softening. "We'll talk more later, okay?"

Y/N nodded, feeling a strange mix of excitement and nervousness about what that conversation would bring. "Yeah, later."

With that, they all made their way back down to the city, where the chaos of the day had finally settled. But even as they stepped back into the world, Y/N couldn't shake the feeling that something significant had shifted between them.

And for the first time, he was ready to see where it would lead.

☀️ | Clark Kent/Superman | ☀️

☀️ | Masterlists | ☀️

[hannibals-favourite-meal]

30k follower celebration for Hannibal Lecter please prompt 3 “I never thought I would see you again.”

.⋆｡Won’t Let Go Again｡⋆.

Hannibal Lecter x plus size reader

implied Hannigram x plus size reader

Moving to Baltimore was supposed to be a fresh start, to escape the ghosts of your past but a budding new friendship with an FBI profiler leads you back to the man who left you behind

Warnings: european!reader, DARK, usual Hannibal warnings (implied cannibalism, kidnapping, drugging, manipulation), childhood lovers, needles

WC: 1.2k

Minors DNI

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

Halloween Celebration

America confused you, everything was big and moved so quickly, you considered it a miracle that you didn’t constantly get lost. But it was such a beautiful place, especially Baltimore. The mixture of old and new architecture that lined the bay was so reminiscent of your old home but also gave you a whole new world to explore.

With a paper map in your hands, you wandered down a mostly empty street, your small heels clacking softly against the pavement. You were determined in your search for a new coffee shop to try out on your day off but so far, you have been unsuccessful. Head down and concentrated, you didn’t notice an equally distracted man walking straight in your direction.

You bowled into each other and you both fell down. You winced and the man yelped as you crashed onto the cold sidewalk. “Oh god! I am so sorry, I should’ve seen where I was going.” You apologised quickly, ignoring the way the skin of your knees burned with pain.

The man shook his head at you, causing his brown curls to tumble over his forehead. “No it’s my fault, sometimes I just wander and forget my surroundings.” He pulled himself to his feet and offered you a hand, although he would not meet your eyes.

“I suppose we are both at fault then.” You chuckled and allowed him to help you to your feet. Your long skirt fell back over your legs, concealing the small cuts on your knees. You took note of the way he made sure that you were all right before he appraised his own body for any injuries. 

He suddenly ducked down and grabbed something from a puddle on the side of the street, and when he popped back up with your now destroyed and waterlogged map, he smiled sheepishly at you. “How about I get us some coffee as a sorry for ruining your map?”

He finally met your gaze with the most beautiful pair of blue eyes you had ever seen. Then his stomach growled loudly and he looked away, pink dusting over his high cheekbones. “Then let me buy some sandwiches for us both.” You offered.

——————

Your friendship with Will Graham was like how you viewed the states, both nostalgic and brand new, filled with mystery and comfort. You learned quickly that he was not a very reliable friend given that he frequently disappeared into cases and his own mind but he was also an incredible friend when he was around.

He showed you all of Baltimore and taught you some tricks to navigating any city so you wouldn’t get lost. And now, he was inviting you to dinner- at his therapist’s house. 

“I would hardly call this romantic, Will.” His eyes flicked to you as he reached to ring the doorbell of the townhouse in front of you.

“I never said this was going to be romantic.” He snipped but he still squeezed your hand tightly.

You rolled your eyes playfully. “You said that you were taking me to dinner somewhere nice, I assumed it was a date.”

“You’re teasing me, I don’t like when you tease me.” He muttered but you could clearly see the way the corner of his lips turned upwards in a soft smile. 

Before you could retort that he did in fact love your teasing, the door opened and the breath was sucked from your lungs. “Hannibal.”

Amber eyes widened and the careful composure he possessed, fell away. “Mylimasis.” (Beloved) Your hand went limp in Will’s hold and suddenly your vision was blurry with tears.

“I-I have to go.” But your companion held tight, his own blue eyes staring at you with an apt fascination. You could see the way his brain was ticking over, analysing each and every part of you but you refused to give anything away. “Let me leave.” 

You tried to pull from his hold and instead you were pushed into another one. Hannibal was much stronger than you remembered and he easily pulled you into his home. Will followed close behind, shutting the door with a firm slam. You would later question why he so blindly obeyed Hannibal but in the moment, you were only focused on the way your heart was breaking all over again. 

His chest was firm beneath your touch as he tugged you fully into his arms. He was older, there was no doubt about that, but the longer you looked into those golden eyes you used to know so well, the more you saw of that boy who had stolen your very soul. “My mylimasis, I never thought I would see you again.” 

Your anger flared once more, setting your veins alight with a fire you thought you had extinguished long ago. “That tends to happen when you abandon someone.” He did not even flinch at your fight.

A large, warm hand cupped your full cheek as he gazed at you just the same as he had so many years ago- you wanted to punch that look off of his face. “Even more beautiful than I remember.”

Your eyes burned with unshed tears, memories unearthing from the deep graves in your mind you had buried them in.

The first time you saw him, you didn’t think he was real. He was so beautiful he had to have been some sort of fae. His regal features practically glowed in the spring sunlight as he smiled at you. You could never clearly remember what he said to you that day in the flower fields by your small home but you did remember the feeling of his words- love, comfort, warmth.

But the day he left, his touch only brought you pain. You could still feel the way that the gravel sliced into your palms as you fell at his feet, begging him not to leave. He promised you the world yet he took the world from you. His eyes were dark, his lips turned down in a vicious sneer.

No matter how hard you tried, you could not forget the expression of pure hatred and disgust he held on that day. 

“You know her?” Will finally spoke from behind you. Hannibal finally looked away from you and to his patient who still stood awkwardly right in front of the door. 

“She is my first love.” He answered simply as you scoffed under your breath. “It seems fate brought my two loves to each other and then to me.” 

Your eyes went wide. “Let me go!” You thrashed violently but his grip never faltered. “You’re fucking crazy!” Hannibal never even acknowledged your struggle, instead nodding over your head towards his lover.

So caught up in your struggle, you didn’t hear the opening and subsequent shutting of a drawer before the heat of Will’s body drew closer and his breath tickled the back of your neck. “Don’t fight it, it will only make this worse.” His voice sounded cold and so unlike the man who would call you in the middle of the night to talk about a new stray dog he rescued.

You tried to turn your head but Hannibal firmly gripped your jaw, keeping you still. There was a pinch in your neck then warmth suddenly flooded through you. “Fuck you.” Even as your words slurred, the malice in your tone didn’t escape either man.

“Just close your eyes mylimasis, we will never let you go ever again.” The darkness swallowed you whole.

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[seeingivy]

speak now

actor!eren x f!reader

**part of my method acting series

songs mentioned: the greatest by lana del ray and speak now by taylor swift! (minor mentions: daylight and forever winter by taylor swift)

an: LIGHTS CAMERA ACTION BITCHES!!!

previous part linked here

--

There’s something strange about showing Eren around an elementary school. Or strange about being around Eren at all. 

There’s an overarching hunch, a quiet fear that parrots in your mind whenever you’re with him, stuck in those quiet pockets of time that you feel like he can see right through you, that every secret thought ricocheting in your mind is one that he’s entirely cognizant of - and that he hates it for it.

It almost fills you with disgust. How badly you want to be around him all the time, to be able to read him the way you’re positive that he can read you, just so that you can know what he’s thinking. 

Is he upset with the way you reacted? Does he know how grateful you are towards him? Is he consoled by the fact that he’s fully forgiven? Does he care?

Does he think about you as much as you think about him? 

The elementary school makes it worse. Almost emotional. Because it’s the fact that even though it’s not your school, it’s exactly how you remember it - so nostalgic that it’s nauseating. Though the colors are less vibrant, almost too dull this time around. The desks are comically small, when they used to be so expansive that you could barely reach the front corners. 

“Did you ever collect Box-Tops?” you ask Eren. 

He looks at you, face wrinkled in confusion as he shrugs. And the second his eyes lock with yours, you quickly swallow down your gulp of shame - at the lost, almost pinched look in his eyes - as he quickly averts his eyes. 

Does he hate you for bringing it up? Does he want to berate you for rubbing in the fact that he had no semblance of a normal childhood? 

You take the little jar, the little cardboard slips secured in the glass, as you hold it up to him. 

“These are Box-Tops. They’re usually on the top of cereal boxes and granola bars and stuff. You can collect them and bring them to class and whoever gets the most in your grade usually gets a pizza party. It’s a charity-type thing where they get more funds for things like arts programs at your school by turning them into the foundation.” you murmur, placing the little jar in his hands. 

“You can’t just…fund the schools properly?” Eren asks, wrinkling his nose. 

“Are you crazy, Eren? Why would they ever do that?” you respond, voice dripping with sarcasm.

Eren smiles.  

“Figures. D’you ever win?” 

“Win what?” 

“The pizza party.” 

“Oh, maybe once or twice. They usually only buy two pizzas so you get a comically small slice so that it’s enough to go around for everyone. And I had Falco and Colt to share with - we had to split all the Box Tops we collected evenly between the three of us so I always felt lame turning like three or four in.” you state. 

Does he think your complaint is stupid? That you should be grateful that you even got to experience it in the first place? 

“What if there was an even number?” 

“Rock paper scissors. Then Falco started crying when he lost, so we ended up giving it to him anyway.” you state. 

“Very on brand.” 

Eren smiles - brightly this time - as he sets the jar back onto the top of the filing cabinets and the two of you continue to awkwardly pace around the room. Eren’s overwhelmed with the memory - of Falco sobbing at his first Canadian Christmas when he was asked what he was thankful for - and the consistency makes him warm.

There’s something unsettling about the room - about how foreign it is to him. There’s a weird echo panging in Eren’s chest, somewhat caused by how longingly you seem to be looking at every little detail of the room. Running your hand over the hardwood desks, picking up the box of crayons, almost frowning at the pictures.

The thoughts that run through Eren’s mind are almost paralyzing, that he can barely keep his beating heart collected in his chest, and more awkwardly, that you know and are choosing to ignore it for civility sake. 

Are you going to leave him when the show ends? Would you have left him if you lived a different life too?

Are you never going to end up together?

“Did you ever see Falco and Colt? When you were at school? S’that like a thing that happened?” Eren asks, poking around each of the little flyers on the bulletin board.

“Ah. Not really. Though sometimes when I was going to art class and Falco was going to computers or something, we’d kind of pass each other. We’d always be really excited to see each other. When we saw Colt, he always pretended like he didn’t even know who we were.” you state. 

Eren can't stop the thoughts.

Do you hate him for bringing up a life that was robbed from you? The security of a school, of a quiet life because he selfishly picked you to be at his side? 

Eren hums in response, as you head over to the last wall - the one left untouched by your inspecting eyes - as you fight the urge to smile. There’s little pictures of each of the students, Teddy right towards the top with a big toothy smile on his face. You point it out to Eren as you catch it before him, memorizing the soft look that spreads over his face when he finally catches light of it. 

“You ever see Zeke?” you ask. 

“Well, we technically watched a movie with him in it? So, that counts?” Eren shrugs. 

“That’s right. Having your own parents and your brother as your source material must be so crazy.”

The thought that follows your comment nauseates Eren.

Are you trying to point out how different you are, so much so that you’ll never be able to be together? 

“I can imagine exactly how you would be in elementary school.” Eren states, slinging his arm around your shoulder and bringing his face nearly flush with yours. 

“Oh yeah?” you ask.

“You’d be like…this girl.” 

You inspect the picture, rolling your eyes at the cop-out answer. Each of the little pictures is labeled with their hobbies or their interests, and naturally, Eren’s picked the girl who says she wants to be a songwriter. 

“You’re funny.” you respond, sarcastically. 

“S’nothing funny about it.” Eren responds. 

“You’d be like…this one. He seems like the type of kid who would pull on a girl's pigtails, which according to Mikasa, is something that you actually did.” 

Eren’s going to kill Jean. 

“That’s just how you get a girl's attention.” Eren responds. 

“Is that right? Had something you wanted to tell Mikasa really badly?” you smile. 

Eren’s almost embarrassed that you know. That he feels the need to defend himself, to prove his devotion to you even though there would be no reason for him to do that. 

“Ugh. Who told you?” Eren asks. 

You can’t help but laugh. 

“I can’t remember. Maybe Jean?” 

“It was two days!” Eren whines. 

You’re not sure how the topic came up, but Jean humbled you very fast when you claimed that you were the first person that Eren ever liked. Apparently you weren’t because Eren had sported a two day crush on Mikasa when they were younger, before he ever met you, which left you embarrassed - but also ready to tease him to oblivion. 

“Eremika…” you state. 

Eren clamps his hand over your mouth, as you quickly shove him off. 

“Shut up.” Eren states. 

“It’s funny! Mikasa’s getting married and you’re stuck at a five-year old’s piano concert. With seats all the way in the back, mind you.” 

Eren rolls his eyes, as he leans back and sits on top of one of the desks. You follow suit, ignoring the little creak, as your legs swing over the top of the desk. 

“What was your signature move in elementary school for the boys?” 

“Was I supposed to have game as a seven year old?” 

Eren scoffs. 

“Well, we can’t all be talented.” Eren teases. 

“I hardly qualify hair pulling as a game. That’s an annoying way to get attention.” 

Eren smiles, leaning forward and curling his hands around a lock of your hair, before he lightly tugs. His face is so close to yours that you can make out the tiniest wrinkles in his skin, marked around his eyes. 

“Annoyed?” Eren teases, his voice barely a whisper. 

You shake your head, ever so slightly. A jarring movement feels too loud, like he’ll move away at the smallest of breaths, like a deer in the woods. 

“Down to my very core.” you respond. 

Eren smiles, the wrinkles even more pronounced, as you almost lean your forehead against his, skin ghosting each others. The thoughts are racing at this point, so fast that Eren can barely feel his breaths. 

Is he ever going to be in love with someone who isn’t you? 

“I feel the need to clarify. It was two days.” Eren states. 

“Two days of hopeless pining.” 

“Nothing compared to the three years of it that I did with you.” 

You roll your eyes, cheeks burning. 

He knows. It's written all over your face.

“Nothing compares to a puppy-love childhood crush.” you state. 

“That’s where you’re wrong. I get the whole innocence of the puppy-love thing, but nothing pales comparison to the intensity of a teenage dream.” Eren states. 

Eren watches your eyes waver and feels his throat constrict. 

You know. It's written all over his face.

Thankfully for him, and less so for you, Sukuna ruins the movement. His shouting from the doorway breaks that quiet bubble, quickly pulling you both farther away from each other. 

“What the hell are you guys doing? It’s starting in five minutes.” 

--

You and Eren settle into your seats at the back, right by the door, as the lights dim in the little auditorium. They’re a warm golden, the smell of fresh paint tickling your nostrils.

Sitting all the way in the back has you and Eren weaving your heads around all the people crowded in front of you, the tiny cell phone lights illuminating each row. 

You catch sight of Lana and Sukuna are aggressively gesturing at Teddy on the stage from their cushy seats in the front row at your left - Sukuna trying to get him to smile for a picture while Lana tries to signal to him to fix his untied shoelaces. The coddling makes your heart burn.  

Eren digs into his coat pocket and pulls out a little camcorder that he hands to you. 

“For?” you ask. 

“Can you record it for me? I just…want to watch him in real time.” 

You smile. 

“Of course, I can.” you murmur, taking the little camera from him and flipping it open in your hands. 

“Don’t record the other kids. I don’t give a fuck.” Eren states. 

“Who knew you felt so passionately about kindergarten piano concert etiquette?” you jeer. 

“You would be shocked. Lana’s basically out of storage by the time she gets to Teddy.” Eren groans. 

You roll your eyes. 

“I think it’s sweet.” 

Eren wonders if there’s anything you can’t find the good in. His wavering suspicion is that it’s him - that you’re the worst thing he’s ever seen. So tainted that there’s barely any semblance of light left in him. 

Eren’s hanging onto the end of your words, wanting to hear the spiral of thoughts running through your mind. Your affinity to look towards the positive, to soak up all the good, to point out all the love in the room - it was something he found himself chasing even though he knew he was barely half deserving of it. 

“I just mean…when I was younger, my mom would tell me that my friend’s mom recorded me singing too and then sent it to her. And I was always really touched that they saw me and didn’t think god, it’s another kid I have to sit through. Like no, that’s Y/N! That’s my daughter’s friend.” 

Eren deflates. He figures that it comes so naturally for you - seeing the good - because he thinks the law of attraction is real; that like attracts like, that people find what’s similar to them. And that he always seems to be the antithesis to it. 

He’s always the exception to your rule. 

“And some parents are late. They’re running here from work, or…or they were late because they had another kid to take care of first and…and it still makes the kid feel special, even if they don’t know it.” you whisper. 

You twist the camera around in your hands as Eren gives you a lopsided smile, an underlying sentiment you can’t really place mirrored in his features. You’d memorize his expression just to agonize about it later, in the safe confines of your room, but your train of thought is cut off by a tapping on your shoulder. 

It’s a little girl - with dark skin and braided hair - barely the age of seven. Her little legs can’t even reach the tan colored floor, her sparkly purple shoes glittering in the dim light. 

“Hi.” she states. 

Eren leans over, a cautious arm on the small of your back, as you lean your head closer to hers and whisper. 

“Hi. Is something wrong?” you whisper. 

“Our dresses are matching colors.” she states. 

You look down - the white flowers printed on your dress matching her frilly pleats. It’s an painfully relieving breath, as you give her a smile. 

“My name’s Y/N. It’s really nice to meet you.” 

“Y/N? Like the pop artist?” 

You freeze, freezing cold ice shooting down your spine. 

“I wish my mom named me after someone cool. My name’s Grace. It was my grandma’s name.” 

You can barely muster out a response, Eren’s fingertips at your side squeezing shaking the shock out of your mind. 

“I’m sure your grandma was pretty cool.” you respond, barely registering the words as they leave your lips. 

“I mean, yeah. She was old. But no one’s as cool as Y/N L/N.” she responds, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. 

You can see Eren smiling out of your peripheral vision, giving a polite nod to the parents seated at her side, who’ve now caught onto the fact that their daughter is talking to a complete stranger. Eren’s quick to diffuse the situation, holding out a hand to them. 

“I’m Eren. This is Y/N. We’re here for Teddy. Curly blonde hair, big brown eyes?” 

“Yeah. Yeah, that’s right. I’m sorry…did you say your name was Y/N?” 

You give them a sheepish smile, bringing your hands to the coarse skin above your elbows and pinching. 

“That’s right.” 

“Our daughter’s a really big fan.” they state. 

You smile, looking back down at her dark eyes, this time wide in shock. 

“Is that right?” you ask, trying to give her the warmest smile you can. 

Her parents lean down closer to her ears, the overwhelming sense of a flowery perfume taking over your senses, as you watch them talk to her, softly. 

“Okay. Ask her nicely, okay?” they ask. 

Grace gives them an obedient nod, before turning to you and puffing her chest out to you. 

“Can I have a hug?” 

“Oh. You…you want a hug?” 

“Please? It’ll be quick.” she asks, her little voice shrill with a hopeful tone. 

There’s a soft sense of elation that spreads through you, your cheeks warm at such an innocent request, as you can barely stop your arms from shaking. You open up your arms to her, as she nearly jumps into your embrace, and you squeeze her little frame as tightly as you can. The smell of strawberries wafts off her hair, accompanied by a soft giggling sound in your ear that nearly brings tears to your eyes. 

You look up to find her parents, an awkward pinched smile in their eyes, as you give them a polite smile. 

“I promise, I’ll take a picture with her after the show, okay? And if I forget, please come find me and remind me.” 

The relief is apparent in their faces - their sickeningly grateful smiles over something as simple as a picture - as you let go and she settles back into the seat next to you. 

You have to settle for recording Teddy with one hand, a deathlike grip in the camera, only because Grace refuses to let go of your other hand for the rest of the show. 

--

Eren’s surprisingly really good with kids. Or really, not surprisingly at all, because you were finding it hard to identify something that Eren was really bad at. Because even the mistakes he did make were so painfully endearing, so warmly thoughtful that you could barely accost him for it. 

He's making jokes with all the kids - participating in their rock paper scissors contests, playing pranks on their parents, and stealing cookies for them when people aren't looking.

You guys are the last ones to leave the school. But it’s only because Eren’s so enthralled with talking to all the passing people - taking pictures, signing napkins, and making phone calls to all their loved ones - that it makes your chest swell. 

The narrowed eyes still make you nervous, an underlying feeling of inadequacy - of embarrassment for hiding out for so long - is all but nauseating, something Sukuna picks up on right after Eren. 

He lets Lana take the lead on the pictures and mingling with all the parents, apparently something that was Sukuna’s forté, as he keeps his arm linked with yours, backs cold against the cement wall.  

“You know, you can go make your rounds with Lana. I don’t want to ruin your son’s piano concert for you.” you state. 

“This shit is overrated.” 

You smile. 

“You’re lying.” you state. 

Sukuna looks over at you, brown eyes fixed on yours, as you watch a smile curl on his face. It’s almost boyish - and it’s the first time that you’re acutely aware of the fact that Sukuna’s probably the youngest one here - living a life so vastly different from yours. 

“I am lying.” Sukuna states. 

“Do you like it here, Sukuna?” you whisper. 

“I’m better at this than I was at the whole - award show, celebrity world thing. People here are really easily impressed.” 

“Is that right?” 

“I handed a woman a lemonade earlier and she said God bless you. Over a fucking lemonade.” 

“That’s just basic human decency, sweetheart. Were you raised by wolves?” you ask. 

Sukuna scoffs. 

“Basically.” he responds. 

You hum in response, watching Lana crouch on the ground and press her cheek to Teddy’s as Eren quickly snaps the picture for them. 

“Can I ask you a question?” Sukuna asks. 

“Is me saying no going to stop you?” you ask. 

“Probably not.” 

“Proceed.” you respond. 

“So, what did you really do for two years? And don’t give me the same shitty bullshit as last time. I want to know what it was that you did.” he responds, tone unrelenting. 

You pause, mulling over the question. You knew it would come soon enough, the utter bleakness of it all, but you suppose it's like ripping off a bandaid. That it'll become softer to talk about after you do it so many times.

“It’s not pretty.” you respond. 

“I’ve always thought you were really ugly. It’s hardly a difference for me.” 

“Lovely. In a world of boys, you really are a gentleman, Sukuna.” 

He grins, nursing the glass of lemonade in his hand. 

“To be a woman is to perform. Now, tell.” Sukuna responds.

The truth of the matter is that there’s nothing to tell. Because you didn’t do anything. 

“I got home from doing the interview and spent the entire week with Falco and Colt. I-I basically didn’t let them leave my side. Falco slept with me at night, Colt basically watched over me like a hawk.” 

It’s a crashing plate, worried eyes, and an embarrassingly debilitating loss. 

“And then Falco came into my room one day and told me that The Lucky One sold more vinyls than all of my other albums combined, in one week.” you state. 

“Non-fluff shit prevails. I’ve been telling you.” 

“I didn’t approve of that album being distributed as vinyl. For physical sales - at all. It wasn’t about the money or the records or- or any of that. And when Falco told me, I-” 

Sukuna looks over, at the lump in your throat. He knows the feeling too well - the sweaty skin, the heavy tongue, and slips his hand into yours at his side. 

“I broke his phone.” you state. 

“What?” 

“I took it from his hands and I smashed it. Then my own too. That’s partially why I never called you guys. I didn’t exactly memorize your numbers and I wasn’t in a position where I was going to just ask for them back.” you state. 

“Not like you would have called anyways.” Sukuna states.

“I only knew Mikasa was having an engagement party because she sent me a physical invitation. Only knew Marco died because of the news. I-I barely knew what any of them were doing when I was gone, still.”  

You bite your tongue, the tiniest metallic taste enveloping your mouth, as you pull the now warm, puffed up flesh away from your teeth. 

“I knew that if I came back, it would mean I would be sucked back into it. What’s your response going to be, hint at it with this song, come back like this and…I’d rather lock myself in my house then do that again. I love songwriting, but not enough to sacrifice my dignity. I enjoyed my career but it drained the life out of me.” 

Sukuna’s lip twitches. You choose to ignore it for the time being. 

“I took up different hobbies. Got a sewing machine, made sourdough from scratch, I even learned flower arranging. But, I could tell that I must have seemed like I was off my rocker or something. My parents and my brothers never really left my side, I could tell that they were always worrying about me, and-and I hated that because-”  

Sukuna stops you before you get too choked up, now standing in front of you, his back blocking the sight of you from any of the people milling around the courtyard. 

“I know that’s a shitty answer. That I should have been doing something worthwhile. But, but- I was fucking tired. I was done doing all this and I can’t exactly…be a functioning member of society or something. I can barely stand here without people giving me a second look or trying to get a discreet picture.” you whisper. 

“I just wanted to know. I’m not giving you shit for it.” he whispers. 

You frown. 

“You aren’t. But maybe you should.” 

You look over his shoulder, at Eren squishing Teddy’s cheeks with his fingers as Lana takes a picture of them - far too close to barely even get the two of them in it together. 

“He fought for me when I wasn’t even here anymore. I was moping in my house, breaking plates whenever I got frustrated, and he was still moving forward.” you murmur. 

Sukuna pauses. 

“Y/N. Don’t do that. I need you to be so careful with what the fuck you do after you leave here.” 

The sense of urgency in his voice catches you off guard. 

“What?” 

“Y/N. It won’t happen if you’re careless. You cannot wallow in your own pity about this, I need you to tread lightly, okay?” 

“What won’t happen?” 

Sukuna glares at you.

“You and him. You could spend years pointing fingers at each other, who didn’t do what. You won’t get him back if you stay there when he’s moved forward.” 

“I don’t want him.” you whisper. 

You barely believe it when it comes out of your mouth. 

“You disgust me, Y/N.” he states. 

“You’ve always had such a way with words.” 

“And you’ve always had a lack of critical thinking. Why wouldn’t you want him?” 

“Why would he want me?” 

“He just does. The same way you just do.” 

You swallow hard. 

“Fine. Be a fucking idiot for all I care. If you do ever knock some sense into that thick fucking skull of yours, just be careful. Eren knows that he has to prove he cares about you for you to come back to him. You need to know that he barely thinks he’s deserving of anything from you, so much so, that he won’t ever make the move.” 

Sukuna doesn’t mince his words. You wish he could have you through every important decision of your life just so you wouldn’t stumble and fall as much as you did. 

“Eren’s called the shots since you were fifteen. You’re going to have to call all the next ones. And for the love of god, really. I’m so tired of that fucking freeloader showing up whenever he pleases. And you look really ugly when you look sad, so just do it right please.”  

You smile. 

“Are you insinuating I’m pretty when I don’t look sad?” 

“I hope you fall off a bridge and never recover.” Sukuna responds. 

--

The sniffling cues Eren onto the fact that you’re crying. The air pressure of the plane is overwhelming in his ears, almost so loud that he misses it, but he counts himself lucky that you’ve always been an obscenely loud crier. He peeks his head over the division over your seats and reaches forward to poke your head. 

“Hey. You okay?” he asks. 

You give him a meek nod. You know for a fact that he doesn’t believe it for one second. 

“Can I come over there for a second? I don’t want to talk from so far away.” Eren asks. 

“Isn’t that like…illegal? Two people in one seat.” you murmur. 

“This is first class, the seat is basically a bed. And there’s no laws in the air.” 

You frown. 

“Eren. Laws still exist in the air. They’re just local.” 

Eren smiles. 

“Well, aren’t you a little genius? Scooch over.” 

You shift on the seat, pulling your blanket closer to you as Eren very precariously makes his way over to your seat, the two of you almost cramped in the small space. It’s almost funny how there’s barely any room, your foreheads pressed together from the lack of space. 

“Hey.” he whispers. 

“Hi.” 

“What’s wrong, Margaret?” 

You shake your head. His hands are warm on your sides. 

“Come on. Tell me. I’m really good at fixing problems.” 

“I know.” 

Eren can’t place what the tone is in your voice - but it comes out all strained and raspy - that it rubs him the wrong way. 

“I didn’t mean it in a bad way.” you clarify. 

“Which way do you mean it?” Eren asks. 

You sigh. 

“I mean. You handled everything considerably well, even if it wasn’t easier for you. You…you waited until I was ready to hear it, until I asked to be told your side of the story. And you put it all together, wrapped in a perfect bow with that documentary, and then took me to see Lana and Sukuna too because you knew I’d want to.” you mumble. 

“Wrapped in a ribbon. Who the fuck calls it a bow?” 

You roll your eyes, earning you a laugh from Eren that’s so loud it makes you laugh too. You reach forward to clamp your fingers over his mouth, muffling the loud sound, as you shush him loudly. 

Eren pauses. 

“I’m glad it worked. And I had a lot of time to think. You don’t have as much, but…we’ll help you. With whatever you want to do.” Eren states. 

You give him a nod, unsatisfied with the answer. 

“What were you thinking?” Eren asks. 

You fish out the little slip of your pocket, nearly smushing your face into his in the process, and place the little paper in his hand. 

“This is…Satoru Gojo’s phone number?” Eren asks. 

“Yeah. I got it from Sukuna.” 

“For what purpose?” 

You pause. 

“I’m going to bury Scott Clarkson into the ground.” 

Eren’s caught off by the answer. 

“You’re what?” 

“What answer were you expecting?” 

“I’m not mad at it. I was just thinking more…I want to write music again. I’m not a quitter.” 

You frown. 

“I thought about that. But it hasn’t exactly worked for me like that. I even tried when I was at the beach but I came up with nothing. But that’s not relevant, I don’t need to write music to end him.” 

“I mean, yeah, I guess. But it’s better that way. Using exactly what they tried to take away from you to get back at them.” Eren responds. 

You smile. 

“You’ll help me?” 

Eren rolls his eyes. 

“I’m pretty sure I made it clear that I’d do anything for you. Even this. Especially this.” 

You smile. You reach forward, placing a hand on his shoulder and squeezing hard. 

“Thank you. And I get what you’re saying about the music, but it just isn’t happening, so we’ll have to think of something else.” 

“I have an idea. When we get back to set, okay? I think it’ll help.” Eren states. 

You nod. 

“Okay. I trust you.” you respond. 

The sentiment sends a shiver down Eren’s spine. 

“I don’t know how it’ll go. I can’t promise that it’ll work out the way we want it.” Eren clarifies. 

You smile. 

“I was trusting you to help me get back into songwriting, not into bringing him down. I’m talking about help into being…myself again.” 

Eren’s eyes flicker, down to your lips, and then back up to your eyes. You almost swear that you imagined it. 

“Do you think I’m different?” you ask. 

“Yeah.” 

You pale. 

“Do you hate me for it?” you ask. 

Eren shakes his head. 

“I like you better like this.” he whispers.

Eren reaches forward, tucking the loose hairs back behind your ear, before his warm fingers are secured around the nape of your neck. He does it a second time, looks at your lips, and this time you swear the corners of his mouth are twitching too. 

“You weren’t very confident when I met you, almost like you didn’t think you were cut out to do this. Unsure of why you even had a place in the room. Then you went so far away from me, worked yourself so hard, that I barely remember you even smiling at any of us anymore. You were angry, then you were heartbroken, and apparently you broke a lot of plates when you weren’t with any of us?” 

You roll your eyes. 

“I’m going to kill Falco.” 

“Colt.” Eren corrects. 

You scoff. 

“No way. Eren, he kind of hates you.” 

“Kind of? Colt was ready to punch me in the face when he first got to set. Rightfully so.” Eren responds. 

“It’s actually not rightfully so. He didn’t even know what you did.” you state. 

Eren pauses. 

“I know. He got here and asked me first thing what it was I did to you. Then he wanted to punch me in the face when I told him.” 

You shrug. You can tell that Eren’s waiting for an explanation - green eyes looking at you expectantly as you give him a nod. 

“It felt wrong to talk to him about it. Falco knew you a little bit better, but even for him…they would just start bad mouthing you just to make me feel good. But that would just make me feel worse because…I don’t get it. Hating someone just because things went wrong.”  

You crack your knuckles. 

“It’s like Ricky. I can badmouth him. He was horrible. He’s a bad person and he literally left me out there to rot just to embarrass me. He did it to Lana, to Teddy. You…I just thought you didn’t like me. I couldn’t really fault you for how you felt. And I loved you. I don't get off on talking shit about you when you were my entire world.” 

Eren smiles. 

“You had every right to badmouth me.” 

“But that’s the thing. I just didn’t want to. Even if things ended badly, you still made me really happy. We still did this entire thing together and-” 

“We’ll finish it together.” 

You smile, giving him a nod.

“You know when you’re in a relationship and you feel like you get to see a different side of that person? Because you’re so close?” Eren asks.

“Yeah.” 

“That’s how you came back to us. Feeling close again. A fresh slate, back to what drew us all to you in the first place. So many things in this industry, in this job are so fake. I mean our job is to literally pretend. You are an overwhelmingly genuine person. Even more so now. You are different. We’re all going to love you for it.” Eren states. 

For someone who’s so convinced he’s horrible with words, Eren always seems to have the perfect ones for you. 

“Will you leave if things go south?” you ask. 

“No.” 

“Then we can do this. I’m positive.” you state. 

“What makes you so sure?” 

You squeeze Eren's hand three times.

“I don’t have anything to lose, Eren.” 

--

When you get back to set the following morning, you don’t miss Connie very loudly whispering with Eren behind you. You’re positive Jean and Mikasa are eavesdropping just as much as you are, their eyes fixed a little too hard waiting for Eren’s response. 

Did you guys kiss?

No, Connie, am I crazy?  

It makes your heart sink a little bit, but you ignore it as Eren comes up at your side, giving you a bright smile. He reaches for the little glass jar to your left and gives you a wink before he calls for everyone’s attention. 

“First things first, Falco. Good job on press. That was one of the funniest fucking interviews I’ve seen in my life.” 

Falco laughs, as you turn your head to the side, pretending to do a little bow as everyone pats him on the back, and you look at Mikasa. 

“What did I miss?” 

Mikasa smiles, pulling up the video at your side. 

“Levi’s direction was to not answer any questions about you. Naturally, that was all they asked about so we all decided to coordinate our answers and basically say that we didn’t know you.” Mikasa states. 

“What?” 

“It sounds stupid, but it was so funny. Some of them started actually believing it. And Falco took it so far, he started pretending like he wasn’t even related to you.” 

Mikasa hands you the phone as you play the video, barely containing your laughter at how stupid the video is. Falco’s so confident in his words, so self-assured that it’s making Gabi burst out into laughter, and obviously messes with the interviewer so bad that they can’t even continue. 

It makes you happier than it should - their first experience being so overwhelmingly positive.

“And we all wore ribbons in our hair, which didn’t help matters anyway.” Mikasa states. 

“Levi’s a menace. He’s milking this so much.” you state. 

“That was actually my idea.” 

“Oh. I didn’t mean-” 

“I know. I just want you coming back to be a big deal. It’s not an easy thing for you to do. You’re going to get every bit of hype for it.” 

You smile, reaching forward to link arms with her, as Eren makes a booing sound. 

“Are you done? Can I talk now?” 

You shove Eren. 

“Stop being rude.” 

“I’m not being rude. You guys interrupted me.” 

“Why were you talking before us? That’s so inconsiderate of you.” Mikasa states. 

You laugh as Eren rolls his eyes, handing each of them a tiny white slip and a marker, before he takes his spot next to you and gives you a big smile. 

“Y/N is going to write a song. Multiple actually. I want you to write down ideas for her and she’s going to pull one out every morning and read it to us. Then she has to play whatever she came up with, even if it was only one line, at the end of that day.” Eren states. 

“Eren.” you start.

“No buts. You guys know the drill.” 

You watch as everyone follows his instructions, excitedly whispering to each other as their pens move, and you look over at Eren. He drops his own slip into the cup, the first one, with his name neatly looped on the outside as he gives you a smile. 

“I’m not going to be able to write anything.” you state. 

“Well, you heard the rules. You’ll have to write something.” 

“Eren.” 

He shakes his head, handing you his journal, opening it to the marked page as you flip through the sheets. 

“I did this a while back, when I was getting back into it. It helps a lot more than you think. And you can ask the person who gave you the slip for help if you really need it, but that person only.” 

You take the book for him, watching everyone give you excited smiles as the cup fills up just as fast, and flip though the pages. 

“write a song about me and sukuna” And underneath, the lyrics to a song called Daylight. 

“write a song about connie’s one year anniversary of being sober” with Levi’s distinct handwriting and the lyrics to a song called Forever Winter scribbled messily on the page. 

And the last one makes your throat bob in your chest. 

“write a song about y/n”

You read over the lyrics, pressing your fingers against the ink, as you fervently read the lyrics. 

We didn't know that we had it all But nobody warns you before the fall Don't leave, I just need a wake-up call

I'm facing the greatest The greatest loss of them all The culture is lit and I had a ball I guess I'm signing off after all

You look up at him, his attention drawn away as he shuffles the cup in his hand to mix up the slips and then holds the cup out to you. Everyone’s watching, waiting for you to pull a piece, as you set the book down, and give them all a meek nod. 

There’s a resounding sound of cheers, and an obscene amount of screaming from Connie and Sasha, as you close your eyes and pull out the first paper. You open up the little slip, floored by how random the request is. 

“Write a song about upstaging someone's wedding. Connie.” you state. 

A resounding smack fills the room - as you look over to find Jean hitting Connie. 

“I told you not to put that in.” Jean yells.

“What? It’s funny! Eren said random stuff helps with this.” Connie defends. 

“Dumbass. You just had to write something about ruining a wedding?” Jean grates. 

“Who the fuck said it was about you, you egomaniac?” Sasha asks, reaching forward to flick his forehead. 

“Who else is getting married, dumbass?” Jean responds. 

“Why are you so mad? You’re clearly projecting your own personal issues.” Connie states, as Jean and Sasha follow him out of the room, their shouts filling up the quiet air. 

Eren turns to you, a bright smile on his face. You want to smack him.

“I’ll see you tonight. Fully written song and all.” Eren states, lightly shoving you as he walks past. 

You groan, leaning your head on Mikasa’s shoulder, as you hand her the little slip. 

“Eren’s so fucking annoying sometimes. How am I supposed to write a song about this?” you complain. 

“You’ll think of something. You’re amazing.” Mikasa states. 

“I um…actually got you something. And I had something I wanted to ask.” 

You took Sukuna’s words seriously. And had every intention to make amends. 

“Really?” she asks. 

“Yeah. It’s a keychain.”

You pull it out, the little penguin charm hanging off the end, as she takes it into her hands. It makes your heart swell - the way she carefully turns it over in her fingers, the excited smile on her face. 

“Thank you so much, Y/N.” 

“It’s kind of stupid but…it’s blue? Like something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue?” you state. 

Mikasa’s smile gets wider, her shoulders relaxing as she reaches forward to give you a hug. 

“Thank you. I love it.” 

“It’s just a penguin.” you murmur. 

“Maybe to someone else. But I haven’t forgotten that we watched Happy Feet at midnight the day we were supposed to film the Colossal Titan reveal and almost missed shooting that day.” she states. 

You can barely contain your elation this time. That Mikasa remembers the memory just as well as you do. You both laugh for a second before you muster the courage to ask. 

“Listen. I want to ask something but I don’t want to overstep so know that you can say no.” you state. 

“Okay.” 

“I know that we have our own rooms, but I wanted to ask if you wanted to share again? Colt and Porco always snore and…and you have your entire life to share a room with Jean but only a few more months to share one with me?” you mumble, voice nearly shaking. 

Mikasa brings her hands to your shoulders, squeezing hard as she can barely contain your smile. 

“Really? You really want to share with me?” she asks. 

“Are you crazy? You’re like the best roommate I’ve ever had.”

“Bullshit.” 

“No, really. Falco kicks, Colt smells, Porco snores, and Eren’s nothing compared to you. You're like a princess compared to them.” 

Mikasa smiles. 

“Deal. Lets go switch the signs - to their rightful places - right now.” 

“What if Jean disagrees?” you ask. 

Mikasa rolls her eyes. 

“He can choke for all I care.” Mikasa states, linking her arm in with yours as you both pound up the stairs right to the hallway. 

You take the marker, scribbling out Mikasa and Jean’s names (and Connie’s comments underneath) as you hand her the marker to do the honors. You both admire the little sign together, arms wrapped around each other, as Eren, Connie, and Jean join you two. 

“What the fuck?” Jean asks. 

You smile at him. 

“Sorry. Not your room anymore.” you respond. 

“One could argue that it was never really yours in the first place, Jean.” Mikasa states. 

“Dude, you guys are so annoying.” Jean states. 

“Did you just call your fiance, dude?” Eren asks, earning him a shove from Jean. 

Connie comes up at Mikasa’s side, taking the marker from her hands, and adding his signature comment to finish off the new sign. You look over at him and smile, tugging him into your hug with Mikasa - as you all admire the door. 

Y/N-MIKA FOREVER!!! 

And underneath, Connie’s lopsided handwriting: 

WE’RE SOOO FUCKING BACK

--

You understand why everyone was crowding you and Eren when they thought you were going to kiss in season two. It’s because you got to set early to make sure you got a good seat for Falco and Gabi’s love confession - so excited that you could barely eat your lunch.

You can’t help but watch them a few feet away from you, nervously kicking their legs on their chairs, as your notebook lays forgotten in front of you.

There’s a group of shitty lyrics on the page, so embarrassing that you shut the page as Eren approaches and takes the seat next to you and Mikasa. 

“I wasn’t going to read them, silly goose.” Eren states, lightly shoving you as you tuck the book under your ankles. 

“Good. I’d kill you before you tried.” 

“Wow. Standing up weddings has you that mad?” 

“The opposite actually.” you state. 

Eren rolls his eyes as he scooches closer to you, halfheartedly shaking Levi’s hand as he passes. You look over to Falco and Gabi again - the two of them increasingly nervous, Gabi more so for some reason, as you lean over and whisper into Eren's ear.  

“Ten bucks this pushes their real love confession ten years into the future.” you state.  

“What?” 

“Think about it. We had to kiss and it pushed things back basically a year and a half because we got all flustered and confused. Falco’s doing a whole bit, they’re going to be nervous about this for years.” you state. 

Eren rolls his eyes, reaching forward to elbow you in the side. 

“Bullshit.” 

“I’m right! The same thing happened with Hange and Levi.” you defends. 

“Rookie mistake, Y/N. Do I know your little brother better than you? He’s not half as pussy as you or Levi.” 

“Touché, asshole. If he likes her so bad, why hasn’t he said it yet?” you respond. 

“He’s a romantic. He’s waiting for the right time.” Eren responds. 

You look over at the two of them, splitting a box of Tic-Tacs, as Levi walks back to his cues and sets up the cameras. 

“Think about it. In a relationship, you’re either a Hange or a Levi. You’re either a Jean or a Mikasa. Falco’s obviously more like Mikasa and Levi. And Gabi’s like Jean and Hange. She has to make the move.” 

“You’ve got it all wrong. Gabi’s the Levi and Falco’s the Hange.” Eren responds, nearly offended at your statement. 

“Are you an idiot?” 

“Watch. I’ll prove it to you.” 

Eren pushes up off the floor, dragging Niccolo along with him, as they two of them approach Gabi and Falco. You’re not sure what they’re whispering - but you can tell that Falco and Gabi are flustered by the premise - and Eren and Niccolo are far too elated as Eren walks back over to you, this time with Niccolo in tow. 

“Hi Nico.” 

“Hi Y/N.” 

You look over at Eren, glaring at him, as he gives you a sheepish shrug. 

“Okay, guys. We’re going to start rolling. Falco, Gabi, you ready?” 

“Yeah.” they respond in unison, giving each other a little fist bump as they take their seats on the floor. 

“Was no one going to ask me? I’m in this scene too.” Colt complains, earning a fit of laughter from the crew. 

Everyone quiets down as the lights dim on the set, the group of you hunching forward, trying to contain your smiles as you look at each other. It’s only then that you’re reminded of how good Falco and Gabi are at acting, the painstaking agony in their voice almost making you shiver. 

“I helped make the attack on Liberio happen. I met a wounded soldier at that hospital, and without knowing it was Eren Jaeger, I sent letters from him to his allies using the mailboxes outside the zone.” Falco starts. 

Mikasa leans over to look at Eren, mouthing the words “fucking bastard” as you try to contain your laughs. Levi gives the four of you a warning glance, as you muster out an apologetic smile. 

“A lot of people died in Liberio. So….it’s my fault that Udo and Zofia died.” Falco finishes. 

“I see…” Gabi responds. 

Falco swallows hard, a pink blush on his cheeks, as you all excitedly smile. 

“Also, I love you. I didn’t want you to inherit the Armored Titan. That’s why I became a warrior candidate. So…so that we could get married…and be happy forever.” 

Gabi’s as red as a tomato. You almost feel bad for teasing the two of them so hard but it’s so endearing it makes your heart squeeze. 

“I wanted you to live a long life!” Falco shouts. 

“What are you saying?” Gabi responds. 

“I might turn into a Titan at any moment. I just wanted to get it all out there before I’m gone for good.” 

It's silent - leave for Gabi's tears before she quickly stands up. You watch as Gabi aggressively wrestles with Falco, pulling off the little black band secured around his waist, before she throws it on the ground, her chest heaving.

You sincerely hope Levi campaigns for them to win an award for this one. 

Levi calls cut, as Hange runs up to the two of them, excitedly cheering them both on as they avert their gaze from each other. Eren’s quick to jump up, grabbing you by the wrist as he pulls you up to the group of them, a devious smirk on his face. 

Niccolo’s quick to join his side, the two of them crossing their arms over their chest and smirking at Falco, as he sighs. 

“Really, guys?” Falco asks.

“Really. You agreed to it, little dude.” Eren states. 

Falco rolls his eyes, nervously eyeing Gabi - who is excitedly jumping up and down in front of a very unamused Levi - before he walks over to her and plants a big kiss on her cheek. The group of you all gasp, Gabi’s skin burning red, as Falco runs away, claiming he needs to go to the bathroom. 

Niccolo and Eren are fist bumping at your side and Eren’s turns to you, irritatingly positioned with his hands on his hips, as he smiles at you. 

“Told you so.” Eren states.

“What the hell did that prove?” 

“It’s simple. I asked Falco if he wanted to play a game of Truth or Dare. Then, I asked him to kiss his favorite person on the cast on the cheek after the scene was over. Told him to run right up to you and do it since I knew for a fact you’re his favorite.” 

“Eren, you little-”��

“Falco is most definitely the Hange or the Jean of the relationship. Would even go as far to argue that he might even be the boldest.” Eren states. 

You groan, the two of you walking past Gabi and Falco near the snack table, a sizable distance away from each other and nearly sweating in the presence of each other. You and Eren shoot them a thumbs up, and Eren continues to gloat all the way back to the house. 

--

At the end of the workday, Eren’s gathered everyone in the main room in a big crowd, doing nothing to help your nerves, as you give them all a smile and loop the guitar strap over your shoulder and sit on the bench. 

“Okay. Repeat the request, Y/N.” Eren guides, the group of them all giving you warm smiles. 

Mikasa and Sasha blow you a kiss, Porco and Connie with overenthusiastic thumbs up, and Eren’s smile pushing you on. 

“Right. The request was ‘write a song about standing up a wedding’ and it was from Connie.” you state. 

You swallow hard as you shut the book and place it under the bench and start strumming on the guitar to warm up. 

“Be nice to me guys. I called this one Speak Now.” 

I am not the kind of girl Who should be rudely barging in on a white veil occasion But you are not the kind of boy Who should be marrying the wrong girl

There’s a resounding sound of cheers, Connie and Mikasa clapping along with the sound as everyone else follows suit. You can feel your head pounding, your voice slightly shaking as you continue on and the guitar strings uncomfortably burning your fingers. 

I sneak in and see your friends And her snotty little family all dressed in pastel And she is yelling at a bridesmaid Somewhere back inside a room Wearing a gown shaped like a pastry 

Mikasa scoffs. 

“Are you trying to tell me something?” 

Everyone laughs, including you, as you shake your head and blow her a kiss before continuing. She makes the little gesture at you - like she’s catching the kiss in the air and tucking it into her pocket. You can feel Jean rolling his eyes at your side. 

Don't say yes, run away now I'll meet you when you're out of the church at the back door Don't wait, or say a single vow You need to hear me out And they said, "Speak now"

The rest of the song goes relatively smoothly, the excitement from the group of them making your heart soar, that block in your throat dissolve.

Sasha’s trapped Niccolo in her arms and has been aggressively swinging him around for the past minute, Porco and Gabi locking their fingers together to do a little swing dance, and Hange, Armin, and Eren bobbing their heads in unison at the side. 

The group of them all give you a deafening sound of applause when you finish, aggressive hugs and kisses being placed on your cheeks as they all applaud you - claiming your brilliance - as you feel your cheeks burn with excitement. 

Eren’s the last one to approach you, an almost too satisfied with himself smile on his face for the second time today, as you give him your most peachy smile. 

“Like it?” you ask.

“Loved it. You’ve still got it.” Eren states. 

“You know it.” 

“Can I give you one note?” Eren asks.

“Please.” 

“The last verse. You have to change it.” 

“What? Why?” you ask. 

“It’s a good repeat. But I’m more curious…did the guy from the song leave the altar for her?” 

You nod, giving him a smile, as you reach for the book, and gesture for him to sit next to you on the bench. You quickly jumble the lyrics onto the page, nearly misspelling half of the words, before you hand it to him for inspection. 

And you'll say, "Let's run away now" I'll meet you when I'm out of my tux at the back door Baby, I didn't say my vows So glad you were around When they said, "Speak now"

"Always a sucker for a happy ending. It's perfect." Eren states.

He gives you a glimmering smile, making your heart skip a beat as his hand brushes against yours. Eren pulls out the little slip from earlier today, taping it right above the lyrics.

He gives you a last pinch of the cheek before pushing off the bench, leaving your entire body burning at his praise. 

“That’s my girl. I didn’t doubt you for even a second.”

You pause.

"Eren?"

He turns back, eyebrows raised.

"Yeah?"

"Ask me who my favorite person on set is."

"What?"

"Ask me."

"Why would I-"

"Can you just do it?"

Eren turns back, hands at his side.

"Who's your favorite person on set?" Eren asks.

You walk up to his side, standing on your tip toes to press a kiss into the softness of his cheek. You hope that he understands - that you're overwhelmingly thankful for him. For the documentary, the days in Seattle, and the lifeline he always throws you. That you'll always be indebted to him.

"It's you." you whisper.

Eren's cheeks are pink.

"Is that right?" Eren asks, the tone in his voice teasing.

"Don't push your luck." you state.

"Wouldn't dream of it." Eren responds, as he gives you one last cheek pinch before leaving you alone with the piano.

Singing the song, strumming the guitar - it's almost like stretching an old muscle, flexing out the soreness. You're so excited that you reach for the cup on top of the piano to start writing the next one right away. But when your read the slip, you feel your mouth go dry.

you love someone with your entire being, and all they do is tolerate it

And at the bottom, a name scribbled in messy handwriting

Jean.

--

--

next part linked here

an: OK GUYS. WE'RE IN THE ENDGAME NOW!!! sorry its kind of boring but we die like men

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pls comment on this post or any of the chapters if you want to be added to the taglist <3

[cassie48]

𝓗𝓘𝓢 𝓔𝓜𝓟𝓡𝓔𝓢𝓢

𝖣𝖺𝗋𝗍𝗁 𝗏𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 anakin 𝗑 𝖿𝖾𝗆 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋

⋆ටᆼට⋆⋆ටᆼට⋆⋆ටᆼට⋆⋆ටᆼට⋆⋆ටᆼට⋆⋆ටᆼට⋆⋆ටᆼට⋆⋆ට

You were his prised possession. The very reason he lived. When he first met you on Tatooine as a boy he decided then and there, thatyou’d be his.

When he went back years later to seek out his mother, he met you again. 𝗜𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝘀 𝗳𝗮𝗶𝘁𝗵, he had decided. So he took you with him, despite what others thought.

Keeping you and him a secret was by far the hardest thing he had ever done. He was a very possessive man, and when anyone 𝗱𝗮𝗿𝗲𝗱 flirt with you, it would take everything in him not to kill them then and there.

Obi-wan was aware of your relationship with Anakin and knew it wasn’t just some childhood nostalgic friendship. He knew, 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝘄𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿𝘆𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴. So when he went to Mustafar to stop him, he brought you.

You, scared and confused out of your mind, stayed on the ship until he and Obi-wan had finished fighting. When your heard the silence you ran out spotting him.

“Ani?” You wept tears falling down your tanned cheeks.

“Sweetheart what are you doing here?” He asked pulling your smaller body into his and wrapping his big arms around your little waist.

“Obi-wan brought me. W-Where is he” She cried clinging onto him.

“He had betrayed us. He’s to weak to understand my power. I have defeated the emperor, I know how the power to rule” he smiled menacingly placing your little head in his hands.

“Y-You’re gonna rule the galaxy?” You asked shocked.

“Me and you, side by side. I can finally treat you like the queen you are. I would never let anything or anyone hurt you. Do you understand sweetheart?” He said pulling you closer to him, if it were at all possible.

You nodded slowly taking in the information. “Y-You’d never hurt anyone, right Ani?” You asked innocently, leaning your head on his chest, the days events slightly tiring you out as your eyes grew heavy.

“Princess, the only time I’d ever hurt anyone is if they were hurting you. You understand that’s why’d I’d do it right?” He lied, knowing you’d believe him. He had to, you belonged next to him.

“I understand ani” you barely whispered, as you leant your body weight against him, feeling sleep wash over you.

“You must be so tired sweetheart, let’s go back to the ship, you need rest” he lovingly told you, but you were barely conscious at this stage. He picked you up  bridal style and you leant your head on his shoulder drifting off.

⋆ටᆼට⋆⋆ටᆼට⋆⋆ටᆼට⋆⋆ටᆼට⋆⋆ටᆼට⋆⋆ටᆼට⋆⋆ටᆼට⋆⋆ට

Here you were, one month later since that night. Anakin was right, he took care of you, treated you like a princess. You and hun ruled the galaxy, the emperor and his empress.

You were sat in his lap, your little head leaning against his chest as he explained his orders to his men in front of him.

It wasn’t unusual for you to be sitting on his lap while he worked, he told you it calmed him down.

As you leant your head on his big chest, you tried your best not to let your eyes close, feeling tiredness come over you.

You let your eyes wander around the room, trying to keep them open. You looked to the right, your body freezing when you saw a man, one of Anakins me staring at you, with a disgusting smirk on his face.

You didn’t know what to do, your body didn’t move an inch. Anakin frowned feeling the nerves radiating off of you.

He leant down and placed his hand over your face, before asking “what’s wrong baby?” With a deeply concerned expression.

“He’s staring at me ani…I don’t like it!” You whispered burying your small face in his chest to escape the man’s stare. Tears slowly fell down your cheeks.

All the men stopped talking and looked towards the two of you. They were waiting for the emperor to kill or torture someone. They had been warned their first day

Anakin looked up, glaring at the man with a look that cannot be explained. He picked you up, placing your head away from the men.

“If any of you leave this room before I get back I will kill you all” he said simply before turning and walking back to your shared headquarters.

Once arriving he placed you down into your big bed, leaning down and giving you a sweet kiss.

You willed your tears and looked up at him. “I’m sorry Ani I don’t know why I’m so emotional lately” you whispered staring at his hand you were holding.

“I think I know sweetheart but we’ll discuss it in the morning. Try to sleep and I’ll be back in a little while” he told you as he went to leave.

You gripped his hand that you had been holding, your big doe eyes looking up to his own dark ones

“Y-Your not gonna do something bad are you ani?” You whispered with a slight pout on your lips.

Anakij smirked at you innocent look. “I’m only gonna have a stern word with the men baby” he told you, tucking you into bed and kissing your forehead tenderly.

You nodded before sleep came over you, and you closed your eyes.

Anakin smiled contently before leaving the room, his smile turning to a glare as he made his way back to the meeting room.

When arriving he saw all his men standing with an extremely nervous look on their faces, two men holding the man who was looking at you earlier.

Anakin walked directly over to the men with a knife in his hand, plunging it into his chest.

“What did u tell you about looking at my wife. She’s mine!” He yelled out, his face scrunched up in anger.

Eventuallu he pulled out the knife from the man’s now lifeless body, letting it drop to the floor.

Anakin looked at the two guards near him.

“Clean up this mess. Let all of you see this as a warning, of what will happen to you if you so much as look at your empress” he spat, with pure rage in his tone.

He made his way back to your headquarters, changing into clothes without blood. He then climbed into bed with you.

“Ani? Is that you?” Your soft angelic voice said, as you turned over rubbing your eyes.

“Yeah it’s me baby, go back to sleep you tired yourself out today” Anakin said his hands going about both sides of your waist before pulling you up a little into his embrace.

You hummed burying your face into his neck

“Did you have a talk with the mean man” You asked, your voice laced with a little fear.

Anakin noticed this and frowned.

“Baby, you know I would have never let him hurt you. He’s dealt with, this won’t happen again” he softly told you, pulling you in closer trying to ease your worries.

“Ok ani” you said before you drifted back off to sleep, your mind now at ease.

⋆ටᆼට⋆⋆ටᆼට⋆⋆ටᆼට⋆⋆ටᆼට⋆⋆ටᆼට⋆⋆ටᆼට⋆⋆ටᆼට⋆⋆ට

𝗔:𝗡:

𝗶 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗸 𝗶𝗺 𝗴𝗼𝗻𝗻𝗮 𝗱𝗼 𝗮 𝗽𝘁 𝟮 𝘁𝗼 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀!!

[zoropookie]

SWEET MELODY

☆ chapter four — gtfo watching madagascar (🎂)

You had high hopes for how this would go, at least.

Sitting in your car and mindlessly driving to the very house you spent a lot of your childhood in was daunting. The familiar road stretched ahead, winding through the streets on your journey like a thin ribbon of what you wanted to know well, but couldn't fully. You couldn't bring yourself to look on the sides of you just yet, not looking for any lack of preparation.

Your hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, knuckles white as you took a sharp breath in. You parked the car, and sat there in the daylight of the hour. Your eyes darkened, moving your head down as you slumped back in your seat. Your shoulders down, and your general disposition horrible.

You didn't want to look up, because it was just how you remembered it. And if you were able to remember that, then by that jurisdiction, there was a 95% chance that this was part of your life that you just dug up again.

You pictured it as clearly as it stood: a quaint, two-story home with the front porch that you had your first kiss on, adorned with hanging baskets of vibrant violets that were picked from the hanging nature of the home. Looking to be inviting, yet intimidating. Tree-lined streets with overgrown lawns, and kids bicycles scattered haphazardly on adjacent driveways, the scent of cut grass filling your sinuses. You found yourself in a both comforting and disconcerting mood.

You sat in your car, staring blankly at the dashboard with the glee you had from cleaning your shop wiped off your face. "You can do this," You exhaled. "You can do this."

The trees, thick with summer foliage and vines draped on the walls, casting dappled shadows on the seemingly new asphalt. You drove through that road for the first time today instead of walking, hoping in your head that the rapid beating of your heart would cease soon. The air was full with the smell of blooming nature.

Gathering your resolve that presented itself in small and opposing glass shards to you, you opened your car door and stepped out. The crunch of gravel on your feet as you hurriedly took the gift of well prepared strawberry pies made small enough to be bite-sized. The sun blazed on you promptly, but nothing could take the chills on your skin.

You walked up the path, the looming front door with its always new paint that seemed to never chip under Ei’s rule was waiting for you. Your eyebrows furrowed in total dread, you bated your breath only for exactly who you figured to open the door once you rang the doorbell.

“(Y/N).” Ei stood there beautifully, but it was still surreal seeing her look the exact same as she did years ago. Her warm, welcoming smile and her eyes twinkling, except this time, it was of nostalgic wonder. “Did you find it okay? I did a lot more work from when you were here last.”

“Yeah, no! It looks…” Your eyes wandered, trying to find the right words to say before giving up. “It looks amazing, Miss Ei. No wonder why I used to really like playing royalty here.”

Ei stepped back promptly. “Come in. You can set your treats on the table.”

“Thank you,” You greeted her politely, walking into the home with the familiar and faint scent of lavender and old wood corrupting your nose. You knew the years have gone by, justice how it hardly looks the same from when you were a kid.

“You’ll find a lot of old items in different places now, my apologies. A lot of my appliances needed updating, so the kitchen is quite different now.” She explained from the main hall, setting up comfortable pillows for you to sit.

“This is really lovely…everything’s exactly in your style.” You marveled to yourself, before snapping out of it and setting the treats on the counter. “I’m sorry, Miss Ei. I didn’t mean to wander.” You laughed nervously.

“My home is your home, to this day.” She still presented you the same adoring smile she did as you sat down. “Yae won’t be here for another hour. In the meantime, I suppose we should discuss what you’re comfortable doing at my wedding.”

You sighed in relief. “Oh, Miss Ei. I actually did come here as well to see if you could pull some strings for me too regarding that, but it looks like you were ten steps ahead of me!” You laughed, always seemingly nervous. “I just didn’t want to betray your wishes…you mean a lot to me.”

“As do you, which leads me to believe that…” Ei sighed to herself promptly. “I did get a little carried away in your honor. Being so excited seeing you and reliving what I once knew felt euphoric. But as it turns out…I’m doubtful things are able to be that way at all.”

“I don’t think that’s true, to be at your side at all is a really amazing request considering the circumstances!” You smiled. “Please don’t worry about the outcome, you should feel the most relaxed at your own wedding, okay?”

You tried to ignore the heavy weight crushing you.

The former shook her head. “It is not that I am worried about,” She paused, her tone a bit more sullen than what was normal. “By chance on that day he went to your home, did he say anything he shouldn’t have?”

You blinked, and as soon as you realized what she asked, you stopped moving. Instead of feeling like your limbs were attempting to make up for the lack of brain space you had, you felt like you were struggling to stay afloat. “Uh,” You stammered, feeling your body tremble. “I’m sorry,” You replied carefully before your voice dropped to a low murmur, “Don’t really remember a lot…I don’t think he did, though.”

“Is it truly that?” Ei’s expression softened, but there was something else that you couldn’t quite place before— she looked concerned, perhaps, maybe regret. “It’s very important that you’re honest to me.”

You were unease, but not because of her. There was something you weren’t letting yourself remember, and instead of mulling on it, you forced a smile for Ei. “Everything is okay with me, I promise, Miss Ei. The last thing I want is to burden you both…I plan to make your wedding perfect.”

The mothers nodded slowly, but her eyes lingered on you, as if looking for something else that your face betrayed of you. “I understand,” she replied softly, before sighing with a melancholy undertone. “You are a very selfless person, there is nothing to pinpoint about you that would make you a bad person. It’s unfair how life treats the wise, isn’t it?”

Before you were about to respond, the sound of the front door opening drew the attention of the two of you. You turned, and immediately everything that you ever said was forgotten the minute that the outstanding and intimidating presence of Ei’s very son, Kunikuzushi, was standing there with his suitcase. His presence ever commanding and rough.

“Fuck are they doing here?” He asked, as if you were a speck of dust he had no trouble in not paying mind to.

“They are here to help me plan my wedding. One that you have no interest in helping me in, so I’d suggest you keep your snide comments to yourself.” Ei’s tone was direct, almost like a warning shot to him. She stared at him with much more intensity than she ever would you.

“You have no business inviting non-family to your little event, you’re just interested in pissing me off.” His words dug into you like it was a knife plunging into your core. “I mean, what can they even offer you that isn’t equivalent to a fart in the wind?”

“They are family. It is my wedding, Kunikuzushi, and I may do what I please. I may invite who I please, and if you don’t like who I invite, you are happy to do clean up. Less chances of you ever having to see who you don’t want there, is it?”

“Family to who, a dead mom and probably an even deader brother?” He couldn’t help but chortle, before the sheer velocity of a slipper Ei strikes against the center of his nasion, groaning in pain as he stood there for a long time recovering.

“Go,” Ei’s voice was louder. “I had my doubts that you’d actually be civil, but this is ridiculous. It’d be in your best interest not to come out until the both of us are gone.”

Your heart burned in your chest, a fire that wasn’t to be put out. With each silent and shallow breath you took, the harder it was to grasp. Especially when his piercing eyes took a gander at you, before sizing you up quietly. You refused to look him in the eye, narrowing them down.

He could only scoff and wince from how much pain shot through his face, a small and aggravating smile appeared on his lips. His attention turned back to Ei, “Didn’t know you were interested in inviting the circus to your wedding. I would have brought better farm animals, if that were the case.”

“I’m not interested in your suggestions, you have severely agitated me. Go unpack, and leave us to our conversation.” Ei spat. “You should not even be back right now, it is hours before sunset.”

Your eyes never rang that much, the universe around you blurring and fading as the intense and high-pitched sound began dominating every sense you had. It had you feel like you were submerged in a deep and murky water, a muffled and distant echo of their conversation playing out.

Heartbeat echoing in your ears, a counterpoint to the endlessness of your own ears failing you. You squeezed your eyes in pain, finding solace in at least the darkness, your head wandering with thoughts that you didn't think you'd ever have. Vision wavering, the edges of your sight blurred as the ringing became even more insistent. Your own body was failing you.

Safe to say, you couldn't do this.

previous ☆ masterlist ☆ next

THERE ARE not many things that can sway your interest ever since the "incident", but in spite of that, you pushed forward. you are now the owner of the biggest bakery chain in your city, consistently seeing couples and catering to them as such. you've been a big host at weddings, events for celebrities, and even a big support for your friends and family. you've even earned yourself a niche following as well by how sweet you are to everybody around you. but, even with your kindness, you don't have a particular spark that keeps you going anymore these days. that is until one of your employees starts suggesting you write love letters to customers who request your services. at first you thought it was a horrible idea that could easily turn into trouble, but that was until you were tasked with writing one to your own (very very famous) ex-boyfriend.

taglist ☆ — @seternic @chemiru @coquettemaiden @1kio0o @emiixuu

@agaygothicmushroom @yomishen @jingyuan-wife-real @toruscorpse @whoooismkeee

@sketcheeee @st4r4ngel @xionri @scaradooche @lightyagamifan

@pwushizz @alatusorrow @eutopiastar @magica-ren @slu7

@vaxmpi @theyluvkatt @kyon-cherri @suzydarling @mimi3lover

@auroratumbles @vxcmx @yourfavoritefreakyhan @kunimylovee

@czerwka @little-honey-the-third @featuredtofu @simonisferal @justpeachyteastea

@liuaneee @skyoverkill1 @mellowberrie @lalalaloveallmydays @mostlymoth

@mtndewbajablasted @vernith @lovekeychains @danhenglovebot @elizshade

@balladeersflower @kazumiku @bananasquash @neversore @yevurin

@franaby @vicslz @kamiboo @thegalaxyisunfolding @morgyyyyyyy

[the-common-cowgirl]

Greater of Two Evils - Part 5

Summary: Reader returns to her childhood home only to move to a new home the next day. How will she cope?

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Dark! Modern Aemond x Fem!Reader

Warnings: DUBCON to Consensual, AFAB reader, Smut (p in v, oral sex f&m receiving, orgasm denial, teasing, creampie, Dom vibes, choking, food play?), verbal arguments, cursing, tension, feelings of anxiety, feelings of hate, manipulation, Aemond not being a total jerk at the end? Lmk if there’s any I missed!

Word Count: 4790

A/N: This was split off of part 4, then I added some smut. Enjoy!

Masterlist

Your childhood bed was warm and stiffer than you remembered but you slept well regardless. Something about being home, being safe, surrounded by familiar smells and sounds, allowed you to fully rest, but now, the sun had long since risen and it was time for a nostalgic breakfast. 

Pulling on some pajama shorts and a crewneck sweatshirt, you drug your sleepy self from bed, lumbering down the steps to the living room, rubbing your eyes. The smell of bacon permeated through the small cottage home  and as you neared the bottom of the steps, you heard your mother call your name from the kitchen as she had when you were growing up when breakfast was early ready; allotting you time to get out of bed and get downstairs before the food went cold. 

Sleep wouldn’t quite leave your eyes and you reached up to rub the drowsiness from them with your sweatshirt sleeve, yawning. Your mother scolded you lightly, “Dear, we have company, you should go upstairs and change-”

Your arm dropped from your face quickly to find that evading your nightmares wasn't an option in this personal hell of a life you were sentenced to. 

Silver hair. Eye-patch. Finely tailored suit.

Maybe that song your dad used to sing in the back garden was right, maybe the devil does in fact wear a suit and tie. 

“What are you doing here?” Your voice is flat and devoid of fear despite the fact you very much were filled to the brim with it. Maybe anger at him invading such a sacred place of yours took precedent… finally.

Your mom turned around with a hand on her hip, “That’s no way to speak to your-”

Aemond raised his hand, silencing your mother with a soft smile. The action made you nauseous; no one silences your mother so easily. “Please, it’s alright.” He turned to you, “I came here to meet your parents and ask formally, this time, for your hand in marriage.”

Your eyes widened and you looked at your mom. She shook her head with a sweet smile, “Honey, if you were running here because you were scared of marriage, you should have thought of that before you got pregnant. Now here, Mr. Targaryen is trying to make things right.”

‘Trying to make things right’ felt like a stab in the gut, fueled by betrayal. 

“Mom I-”

Aemond cut you off, “Perhaps we can speak alone?” He looks over to your mother with the smile of a snake and she returns it, mayhaps without the reptilian features. 

“Of course, I’ll be out in the back garden with your father,” she tells you before she wipes her hands on her apron and exits the room. 

You stare at Aemond as he stares back at you with his lone eye. He hears the backdoor open and shut before he speaks. “I told you to stay.”

You pull up a chair opposite of him. “Like a dog,” you bite back. “What did you tell my parents?”

A sly smirk pulls at his lips, “I think you understand the predicament we’re in.” He leans back, grabbing his teacup and bringing it to his lips, “your mother loves me by the way.” He sips, smiling like a Cheshire cat, lone eye studying his prey.

“She also prefers my brother over me so I’d take her approval with a grain of salt.”

He frowns slightly, bringing the cup back down to the table. “They know the baby is mine and they know I am planning on taking care of you, and it, financially.” His eye flickers up to you triumphantly, “And they also know that I proposed to you, my girlfriend of three years and you had your doubts and came to see them.”

You narrowed your eyes, “You told them we have been a couple for three years and they believed you?”

Aemond smirked, shrugging lazily. “Apparently you do not talk to your parents enough for them to know much about you.”

Anger rose within you, making you begin to sweat with loathing. How did Aemond seem to get away with every little thing? It was like he walked and the grass parted a path for him. He seemed untouchable; making your cause seem hopeless.

“Go upstairs and pack, we’re leaving.” HIs command was stern with no room for contest.

You shook your head despite this, “I’m not going with you. No.”

Aemond stood from the table slowly, towering over you. His hand snaked down reverently from the top of your hair, along your cheekbone, landing beneath your chin and pulled your face up to look at him. “I’ve done things in a quite unorthodox matter at the beginning of this relationship-”

“This isn’t a relationship.”

He barely contained a sneer, you felt the anger boiling just underneath his skin but he kept it from burning you…surprisingly. “Whatever you want to call it- relationship, understanding-”

“Containment-” you cut.

“-whatever,” his voice raised slightly, “you may call it.” He returned to his false softened hum, “I believe I can do better by you and our child. You have to give me that chance.”

Your eyes met his lone blue and you knew you had no choice….for now.

“Okay.”

He looked half shocked, probably suspecting more of a fight. “Okay? Okay. Yes,” he pulled his hand from you. “I will arrange for us to leave immediately. Go upstairs and pack what you need.”

You stood from the table, “All of my essentials are in Sunspear.”

Aemond pulled out his phone, bringing it to his ear. “Well, we aren’t going back to Sunspear so I’ll just buy new essentials unless anything cannot be replaced.”

You looked at him in confusion, “Where are we going then?”

Someone on the other end of the line began speaking so he mouthed what looked like ‘King’s Landing’ before he started barking orders into the phone.

Kings Landing.

The drive to the Crownlands took a few hours and every bit of that time was spent with Aemond on the phone, rearranging your life, unenrolling you from your college, and closing your account at your bank in Sunspear. With every call, you started to grow more and more anxious.

How is he able to do all of these things without my permission or consent?

At the final call, the one where he closed out your membership to the student credit union, he looked over at you. “We are close to my estate now.”

You remained staring out the back door’s window, “How were you able to do all of that without my permission?”

The car slowed and began to turn, Aemond leaned up to the driver, mumbling the code to the driveway gates. Once he leaned back, he looked sideways to you, “I thought you were well aware I had plenty of connections.”

A pit grew in your stomach as you drove through the gates of the estate. A large, white stone home sat proudly in the nicest part of King’s Landing; the homebase of Westeros’ rich, powerful and corrupt. A tall hedge bush ran along the property lines, behind it, you could see glimpses of an iron-wrought fence at least twelve feet high. Physically, there would be no escaping the property.

The car parked beneath the carport at the very front of the house, Aemond opened the door and exited his side, you followed; pulling the handle and exiting. Aemond rounded the car, grabbing your arm a little too harshly and leaning in next to your ear. “We are to be married soon, wait for me to open the door.”

His harsh scolding gave you chills as he pulled back from you with a smile as if nothing had happened. “Allow me to show you the manor.”

Red roses adorned the foundation of the home and when you stepped inside, the floors were marble. Nothing was out of place, everything was extravagant and lavish. Aemond had walked you through the entire first floor (where a butler or maid was scattered purposefully about every three rooms) before leading you upstairs. You had hoped the second floor didn’t have another random person who would pop out from behind a plant or tall vase just to add to your embarrassment as you were paraded through the home as its new captive; fortunately, there were none. 

Aemond led you to a set of double doors, pushing a single open and leading you through gently. “This is our room,” he stated plainly as day. 

You shook your head, “No. I want my own room.”

He fixed you with a look that scorched your skin. “Absolutely not.”

So you used his own logic against him with the words ‘be a river’ giving you the courage to do so. “Aemond,” you reasoned lightly, lighter than natural for you, “I uh, don’t want to assume anything but to my understanding… you want the image of a perfect life.”

His brow furrowed, immediately with shock and before it could resolve to anger, you spoke again.

“I see the white house, the roses, the perfectly manicured yard. I saw the butlers and maids downstairs alongside the decorations that I wouldn’t particularly attribute to your style - not that I know your style, we are just strangers whom you’ve decided should conceive-”

Aemond snorted, anger clearly beginning to rise within him but you continued on.

“I also saw the Seven Pointed Star several times throughout my tour. Decorations…books… and I know that’s the predominant religion of Westeros. You being a politician and all, I’m sure you want to look the part, even if you don’t believe in it, I can almost guarantee you don’t.”

“I do,” he retorted.

You smiled, taking a step toward him, “Interesting.” He looked at you with a thin veil of confusion. “Anyway, what I’m getting at is that it’s quite obvious that this house,” you gestured vaguely around you as you stepped closer to him, “is all for show. You moved me here,” pointing to yourself, “for show. I know your intentions, I understand what I am to you…so I ask you to allow me to have my own room until we are wed. If anything, it’s only for show.” You smiled up at him, feeling you aced him.

He simply smiled back, leaning down slightly. His smile made your triumph falter and fade. “I knew I liked you for a reason, you’re incredibly…perceptive.” His eye leveled you with a glance from your eyes, to your shoes and back up again. “Fine,” he straightened, “you’ll get your own room…until we are wed.”

You blew hot air through your nose, feeling anger festering in your pores. “And when is that?” 

Aemond turned from you, pulling his suit jacket off and placing it on the mattress. “Two weeks.”

Your blood ran cold, “Two weeks? How can you plan a wedding in two weeks?”

Aemond laughed as he loosened his tie, “I’ve had someone on it for a while now-”

“Show me my room please,” anger, resentment, hate boiled through your veins and ignited your heart. “I need some space.”

Aemond chuckled, “Take your pick.” He motioned toward the door, expecting you to find your own way out. You turned and began marching for the door when you heard him call out, “Just remember, you said the bedroom is ‘just for show.”

Turning back toward him, you glared. Of course he wouldn’t let you leave without an innuendo and threat. “Fuck you,” you spat and turned back for the doors, pushing hard. Before you were out of earshot, you heard him laughing to himself with a “soon enough” coming from his lips.

You picked the room furthest from his, on the other side of the second floor entirely. Locking the door as soon as you got into the room despite the fact that the door could be unblocked from the outside. So, for extra measure, you managed to push a dresser in front of the door, more effectively blocking yourself in. 

Safe.

The feeling of dread left you quickly and you felt safe enough to take a shower, wrapping yourself in your towel and laying in the soft bed. You check your phone for the first time today to see you have no messages or calls. You try to call your dad, explain why you left in such haste but your phone would not ring out. No phone service. No carrier.

The fucker turned off my phone too?

Bitterly anger turned into hopelessness which turned into tears. And like how most of your nights went recently, your tears lulled yourself to sleep.

A field of tall grass surrounded you as the soft wind blew your hair. You looked around you to see a river rushing along the base of the hill you were standing on. The river rushed proudly against the grey landscape pushing and pulling where it dared. Then suddenly, the river changed its course, pummeling straight up the hill for you. Sand and loamy clay was left dry where it ceased flowing. Now, at the bottom of the river lies the grass that surrounded you, held you, protected you. You had mere seconds to think before the river reached you and you had yet to think of anything but the cold waves approaching. Suddenly, the sky overhead was dark and thunder thumped hard against the sky. Thump. Thump. Thump.

You awakened to thunder, sitting up in bed. You look around the room in a daze from your previous slumber. The night is dark, starry, clear.

The room thunders again. 

Knocking.

Aemond calls your name from behind the doors. 

“Go away!” Your voice doesn’t tremble, you’re safe behind the doors with the dresser blocking you in. The sounds cease, you find sleep again with less ease.

In the morning, you stand staring at the doors after having moved the dresser, contemplating if your hunger is worth emerging from your hiding spot. The grumble in your stomach pushes you to open the doors and reassures you that Aemond won’t try anything stupid in front of his hired help. You walk to where you remember the kitchen is, bare feet padding against the cold marble floors, without seeing a single person. The sun has been up for a few hours now and you grow uneasy at the fact there aren’t people here to bear witness and pass judgment on Aemond if he were to do something inappropriate but the house is quiet…too quiet. You wonder if he is even home.

You stop in the middle of the kitchen, listening for footsteps or even life; all you hear is the ticking of a grandfather clock several rooms away. Aemond must not be home. 

Relief trickled through you as you opened the fridge, cool light flooding across your face. Picking the easiest thing, a yogurt cup, you closed the fridge then searched the multitude of drawers before you found the silverware drawer and plucked a spoon from it. Quickly, you headed back upstairs with your scavenged breakfast in case Aemond came back early. Opening the strawberry yogurt cup and dipping into it with a spoon, you ate a bite on the way back to your new room until movement stopped you dead in your tracks. 

Your eyes locked with Aemond as he was stepping out of your room. 

“What are you doing?”

A flash of a glare ran across his face, if you blinked, you would have missed it. “You’re not supposed to eat food outside the kitchen or dining room.”

You narrowed your eyes, reiterating, “What are you doing in my room?”

He challenged you, narrowing his own back. “Not. Your. Room. I own this house.”

“Sorry, my space in this hellscape you call a home,” you shifted your stance.

He took a step toward you from the door, “Don’t ever lock yourself in again.”

You laughed, “I’m not your free use slave. You can’t come in and fuck me whenever you want-”

Aemond shook his head, “I was worried about you last night, you had screamed in your sleep-”

“You good-for-nothing jackass…I don’t talk in my sleep, let alone scream. Quit lying and stay the fuck away from me.” Anger overrode your body as he took more steps toward you, causing you to fling the yogurt cup at him, splashing across his face and body. 

He was shocked for several moments, mouth hanging agape, before his eye settled on you; you trying to suppress your laughter behind your two hands clasped over your mouth.

“You little bi-”

Before he could finish, you turned tail and ran, gleeful you’d made an actual mess of him and feeling some sort of victory in doing so. You heard him swear behind you then, the thundering footsteps closing in quickly behind you. 

With nowhere to escape to, you ran into his bedroom, shutting the doors behind you with barely enough time. His pounding on the doors rattled the wood just after you had locked the handles. He called your name behind the wood and you just laughed again, feeling bested the beast in his own home. 

“You’re gonna have to be quicker than that- '' came your sing-song voice in a mocking tone. 

Immediately, the banging ceased. The speed at quick Aemond gave up his pursuit gave you an awful feeling in your stomach but thinking about it was short lived when you saw that in your valor of throwing the yogurt on Aemond, you had spilled a long drop down your shirt and thighs. Cursing to yourself silently, you made your way into the bathroom.

Flicking on the lights, in search of whatever vanity drawer Aemond stored his washrags in so you could wipe the pink yogurt from your only pair of clothes. You didn’t find it in any of the top drawers so bending down, you continued your search for something to wipe off the residue. Soon, you found the drawer containing the washrags and plucking one from the drawer, you stood, turning on the water and running the rag under it until it was fully soaked and warm. Only then, did you look up from the vanity countertop and into the mirror; jumping in fright.

Aemond was standing behind you, smirking. Like a cougar watching his prey from the trees.

You turned quickly, and tried to shove the wet rag in his face only for him to grab you and spin you around to face yourself in the mirror, your hands subdued tightly behind your back. You then noticed another door, slightly ajar, it looked like it led to a large walk-in closet that must have been connected to the hall. 

“That wasn’t very nice of you-”

“Leave me alone,” you struggled weakly in his grip. The pain in your wrist igniting once more.

He chuckled and pressed himself harshly against you, smearing the pink goo across the back of your shirt. “I think we need to clean up, don’t you?”

“Nope, all fine,” you gritted out as you struggled in his hold.

His nose came to press against your throat, you felt your heartbeat quicken as he inhaled your scent. “You, at least, need to clean me.” Without giving you time to process, he hauled you toward the shower, pushing you in and then stepping inside himself. You offered him only a quizzical glare before he turned the showerhead on and began soaking you through your clothes. You huffed and backed out of the water stream and he closed you in, water now drenching him and his clothes; he didn’t seem to care as he began to strip the wet clothes from his body. “Clean the mess you made and you’re free to go.” 

It seemed too easy, too simple. He definitely wouldn't leave it at that. 

Regardless, you began collecting water in your hands as he continued to strip. With trepidation, you moved your hands to his face, wiping a splatter of pink from his cheekbone; trying not to look at his smug expression. His skin was coarse against your fingers. Something about the action was intimate, close, you hated it; it made you feel at ease in his presence.

He bent down, stripping his underwear from his body, completely nude now. However, the rest of the mess was left on his clothes, his skin was clean now.

“I’m done,” you announced with no emotion, trying to conceal embarrassment behind impassiveness. 

He tutted gently, “You’ve made quite a mess of my cock too. You need to clean that up as well.” He glanced down to his member, returning his triumphant smirk to your face. 

You narrowed your eyes, “That’s your own doing. I’m not-”

He brought a hand up to your thigh, collecting some of the yogurt that hadn’t been washed away and rubbed it along his cockhead. 

“Seems like you did make a mess, sweet river, now be a good girl and this’ll all be over.”

HIs honeyed tone was laced with something addictive and once again, you felt yourself falling victim to whatever charm this snake held over you. When his hand came up to your shoulder and pushed you down, you found yourself falling to your knees for him while your glare never left his face. That was, until you were face to face with his manhood, tip smeared with pink. Your mouth watered against your wishes and your eyes glanced back up to him as water trickled down his toned abs, valleying around the base of his and his heavy sac.

Just do what he wants, a voice told you and you gave in.

Carefully, you stuck your tongue out, licking some pink from the bottom of his ruddy head. You heard him shudder at such a small action and it excited you; the thought of reducing him to your whim as he often did to you. So, your tongue swirled around his head again, taking just the tip of him into your mouth and sucking wet and slowly, letting saliva, mixed with yogurt and precum fall down past your lips to be washed down the drain with the rest of the water that fell off of him. You felt him buck against your mouth, releasing a small, barely audible whine when you pulled back from his charge. His hand flew to your hair, eye scrunched shut. He didn’t attempt to move you further onto his cock, rather, hold you steady. “Fuck- please,” he all but groaned as you continued licking and sucking just the tip. 

Smiling, you pulled off of him. “I think you’re clean now.” Your hands in your lap, his hand in your hair. He opened his eye and looked down at you with an annoyed, lazy glare. “Finish,” he all but demanded.

You shook your head. “That would make a bigger mess.”

He rolled his eye, “Okay, let’s see how you like it.”

And before you could process what he was doing, he pulled you up, pulling down your pajama bottoms and underwear in one swift motion, backing you against the cold, tiled wall of the shower and sinking to his knees before you. His mouth was on your cunt like a madman and he hiked one of your legs up with a strong hand, giving him freer access to your womanhood.

His tongue circled your clit like a vulture before he zeroed in, suckling gently. Your hands flew into his wet hair, entangling as you whined and threw your head back a little too harshly against the wall, making the back of your head sting in residual pain but you didn’t care, all you could focus on was the intense pleasure he was ripping from you.

His other hand came up to play with your entrance, lithe fingers dancing, teasing, but never acting in the way you wanted them to, needed them to. You ground down, trying to impale yourself on the fingers that played at your entrance to no avail. Aemond chuckled against your folds, pulling himself from them to look up at your ecstasy ridden face. 

“Don’t like it?”

You huffed, running a hand over your eyes, wanting nothing more than to hide yourself from his goading. “Shut up.”

“How about I grant both of your wishes while you grant mine?” He stood, pulling your top and bra off, depositing them in the heap of clothes at the bottom of the foggy shower.

His hands ran up your ribcage, stopping just below your breasts and cupping them. He placed tender kisses on each one, tongue running along the soft skin. 

“Which is?” Your breath was heavy. This is wrong but at the moment, it’s so right. 

“I’ll shut up and we both get to come,” he added a kiss to your collarbone.

“Are you actually asking me permission?” You could have laughed.

He suckled on the skin just below your ear, making you repress a breathy whine.

“I told you I’d treat you better.”

You chuckled this time, grabbing his wet hair and pulling him away from your skin so he could look at you. “Okay. Fuck me Aemond.”

His face cracked with a soft smile and he cocked his head, “Manners…”

You rolled your eyes and grasped his cock, stroking the velvety skin, pulling it closer to your aching core. “I think we’re long past manners…don’t you?” 

Aemond huffed a singular chuckle through his nose before he hiked one of your legs up and aligned himself, sinking into your core in a slow, purposeful thrust. You moaned at the feeling of him stretching you; how he made you feel so full. No one could make you feel like this and you were painfully aware that he knew it.

He began thrusting into you in earnest, chasing a high he had been denied by your lips and newfound victory in your cunt. He steadied himself with a hand on the wall beside your head as his rough pounding became faster, pulling and pushing against that delicate spot inside you that had you whining and wrapping your arms around his shoulders and neck. 

“Play with yourself, “ he commanded through rough thrusts.

Your brain was nearly too fucked out to comprehend he had even spoke.

He grunted, delivering a harsh thrust. “I said play with yourself.” He panted, “M’ Close and want you to cum on my cock to finish me.”

You obeyed a bit too quickly, moving a hand down between where you two were joined, rubbing your clit gently and sometimes, teasing him by moving further and caressing his shaft as if emerged and sunk back into your heat. 

“Fuck- fuck- don’t do that.”

You cocked your head to the side, bobbing with each snap of his hips, “Do what?”

Your playful ignorance ignited a more severe side of him and his hand came up and wrapped around your throat, “Don’t- fuck, you like that don’t you? You like it when I’m rough with you?”

It was true, the moment his hand wrapped around your throat possessively, you clenched around him and nearly came. You could be just as brazen though.

Before he knew it, your hands intertwined in his hair, pulling him close to you. Your mouth was on his lips, kissing him with a fever that took him off guard. Lips interlocking, you sucked on his plump bottom lip before forcing your tongue down his throat that he greedily took in.

Suddenly and without warning, Aemond thrusted forward, driving deeper inside you and groaning against your lips as he came harder than he ever had. You felt the hot spend coating your insides and nearly sent you over the edge as he pulsated, hot and heavy in your cunt.

His lips slowly fell from your own as he came down from his high and pulled back, looking at you with a strange reverie in his eye as if he was studying a new species of animal only he had just found.

His cock, still lodged deep inside of you as you ground yourself against him, making him break his trance and hiss in overstimulation; pulling out of you. “You lied,” you said simply as his cum started dripping down your thighs. “But I guess that’s all you ever do, isn’t it?”

His eye searched your own, a confused look on his face. “You said you’d shut up and we both got to come. Only you came and I didn’t. Oh, and you didn’t shut up. You talked a whole lot.”

He chuckled, turning off the shower and kicking the drenched pile of clothes off to the side, “Well, I know how I can fix that.” He took your hand and moved you to sit down on the shower floor. “Lay your pretty head on those clothes and spread your legs.”

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[shxtodxroki]

𝙽𝚘𝚝-𝚂𝚘-𝚂𝚎𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚝 𝚂𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚊

Summary: Your past friendship with Satoru Gojo is ancient history by the time you’re both well into your teaching years, the man a mere memory from your past you can’t help but reminisce on more often than you should. But when Christmas-time rolls around and you get roped into a faculty Secret Santa event alongside your sister school, your not-so-secret Santa causes old, unresolved feelings to resurface, and gives you a chance to finally rehash and truly release them. 

Warnings: Swearing, some angst, this fic was written as a gift so it’s a fem reader instead of my usual gender neutral reader! There’s also a few small descriptive details of the reader’s personality/likes since it’s targeted towards the person I wrote it for, but there are NO physical descriptions of the reader! Geto, Nanami and Haibara are also all teachers in this! (Nanami and Geto work w/ Gojo in Tokyo, while Haibara works w/ reader and Utahime in Kyoto!)

Pairing: Satoru Gojo x Fem! Reader

Word Count: 6.8k

Note: This fic is a gift that I wrote for @planetnini for this JJK secret santa event! :D Hi Nini, I was your secret santa! :D I had a lot of fun getting to know you and chatting with you through asks throughout this event, and I hope you like the final fic I made for you! I tried to take into account some of the things you told me and personalize it a bit, and I’d love to know what you think! <3 Happy holidays Nini and anyone else reading this, if you celebrate any holidays around this time of year then I hope you had a wonderful time, and even if not, I hope you’re having an amazing end of the year! :D

The scent of the town-famous bakery always managed to fill you with a bittersweet sense of nostalgia, memories flooding your senses as flashes of bright blue eyes and teasing grins flashed behind your eyelids in response to the familiar scent. It makes your stomach twist in mild discomfort, pushing the fond childhood memories that spring up back into the crevices of your mind where they belong as you feel a small, long-residing pang of longing.

He had always loved sweets.

Being friends with Satoru Gojo, the honored one who took Jujutsu society by storm from the very moment he was born, was an experience you reflected back on far more often than you’d ever admit out loud. Considering how long it had been since the two of you last had any significant contact, it would seem odd to admit just how often your mind still wandered to him, to the many soft moments and bright memories you shared in adolescence, and to the one true best friendship you had ever known. People have come and gone through your life in waves since then, and you’ve had dear friends who meant the world to you, but nobody could ever come close to the role Satoru had once filled, the way he made your heart feel so full of affection and love that it just might burst. It was the kind of friendship you felt you would only find once in a lifetime, and thus the kind you could never forget. Maybe it wouldn’t sound that ludicrous after all, but you still kept this longing to yourself, and most days, you managed to dull it to a gentle simmer beneath your ribcage as you went about your days.

You have other things to focus on now. A job and your loved ones and the upkeep of your home, all essential parts of your daily life that keep you from lamenting on the mere wisps of memory of the boy you knew. Knowing that he wasn’t far away, living a life far busier than your own but in the same profession at your sister school, did come with the occasional urge to reach out, to reminisce or catch up or ask why your whole friendship had fallen apart in the first place. But you’ve always managed to resist the urge, to fight back the desire to reach out and pry yourself away from the open yet long-ago unfollowed Instagram page on your phone (though not always without help, you had to thank Utahime for keeping you from your nostalgic urges every now and then). 

So with all the work you had put into moving on from a friendship you honestly should have long ago, you would admit (at least to yourself) that you were less than excited to find out that you’d be participating in a winter retreat with the sister school where Satoru now taught at. You were even less eager when it was revealed that there would be a staff-wide Secret Santa event between the two schools, and as the days counted down towards the trip, you found yourself wishing that the universe would cut you a break just this once and give you anyone else besides Satoru to buy a gift for. You knew so little about the person he was currently, now that so much time had passed between the two of you, and truthfully, you had no clue if he even remembered who you were at this point. The sting of realizing that he didn’t remember you was a pain you truly didn’t long to feel, and having to get a gift for your former best friend under such uncertain conditions was simply a fate you wished to avoid at all costs.

“Quit glaring, you’re drawing attention to you, and me by proxy.” You mutter to your best friend as she glares daggers into the back of the man you wished to avoid. Luckily for you, the interaction was anything but uncommon for the two, so it was unlikely to truly draw attention to either of you. Yet it still wasn’t a risk you wanted to take, not wanting to face even the slightest possibility of being forced to suffer through awkward small talk with the man who had once known all your deepest secrets.

“How did that idiot manage to become a teacher? His students would be better off with a fucking rock as an instructor, I swear to god.” Utahime grumbles back from beside you, paying no mind to your words as she continues glaring at the man from afar. Her disdain for the man was amplified when you told her of your shared past, but she had held a strong dislike for him from the moment the two had first interacted at school functions, leaving you hopeful that he wouldn’t be phased from the typical distant hostility and annoyance he received from your best friend. These days, Satoru Gojo rarely managed to spare you as much as a glance, and it had been years since he had uttered your name (a fact you were ashamed to admit you had been keeping track of, in the brief and meager conversations the two of you had shared over recent years). The feeling of being forgotten stung deep in your bones, but you outwardly portrayed the same level of unbotheredness and nonchalance he did whenever the two of you would be put in the position to briefly interact, so most of your colleagues (including Satoru himself) were hopefully none the wiser to your inner predicament.

“Alright, everyone come draw a name! And there’s no switching or re-draws unless you pick yourself!” You suddenly hear Suguru Geto’s voice echo through the room, sounding controlled and put-together as always as he drew you from your reverie and back into reality once more. It didn’t take long for the air to grow stuffy as all of the evening’s attendees crowded together around the bag of names, the small crowd still managing to tightly press together as everyone crowded in to select their recipients for this year’s secret santa event. 

Some were more eager than others, but the process was still able to remain somewhat orderly as everyone pressed together and took turns grabbing a folded up paper from the bag. The rotation went counter-clockwise, and you watched as your coworkers and fellow faculty went one-by-one until the line reached Utahime to your left. As she plucked a name from the bag, you blurted out a quip that wasn’t meant to particularly be hidden, but one which you really only intended for her ears as a small grin made its way across your face.

“Thank god Gakuganji’s off on business this year, imagine what a nightmare it would be to buy a gift for him.” You laugh at your own comment, watching your best friend’s face light up in acknowledgment of the joke before opening the slip of paper in her hand. The voice you hear responding to you, though, is much lower than that of your friend’s, and the sight of her mouth not moving causes your stomach to drop as you suddenly grow aware of the presence to your right.

“God, I think getting a gift from that geezer would be worse. He’d bring five dollar socks and expect ‘utmost gratitude’.” His voice felt like honey coating your ears, deep and smooth as the scent of his cologne suddenly engulfed your surroundings. You couldn’t believe you had let his presence slip out of your awareness, that you had been oblivious to him standing right beside you even if only for a few moments. You were so used to being tuned into his movements during gatherings like these, doing your best to avoid him whenever possible and to maneuver your way subtly through awkward small talk on the occasions where avoidance wasn’t possible. And yet here he was, appearing beside you without a shred of awareness on your part. And he was joking with you causally, as if the history between you meant nothing to him at all.

He may not remember your history at all at this point.

You could feel heat rising to your face at the thought, the painful stab of acknowledging that you may not have meant as much to him as he did to you causing your form to grow rigid where you stood. You knew you shouldn’t still be so affected by him, so in tune to everything he did and so easily reactive whenever he was near. His quick remark to you showed that he held no similar reservations when interacting with you, and it had been plenty of time to let go of the torch you had been carrying. But you were the one who left the friendship with unresolved feelings you never got the chance to express to him, with an attachment deeper than just friendship. And he obviously wasn’t, which was clearly why he had managed to move on so much faster than you had.

You were thankful as you realized it was your turn to pull from the bag, eager for a distraction so you wouldn’t have to think of a response to Satoru’s remark. You needed to calm down, and hopefully you could occupy yourself with thinking of potential gifts for your recipient through the rest of the night rather than putting so much energy into a man who wouldn’t reciprocate. Your hand plunged in and out of the bag in a flash, just desperate for any name that wasn’t Satoru’s, and you let out a soft sigh of relief as you read the name inscribed on the paper in your hand.

“Yu Haibara”. 

Thank god, fate seemed to be on your side this time. Not only did you not pull Satoru’s name, but you were close enough with Haibara, as you saw one another nearly every day, to comfortably pick out a gift you knew he’d enjoy even without the list provided to you. He was easily one of those you were closest to among the participants, second only to Utahime, and despite the melancholy that had been simmering within you throughout the evening as thoughts of Satoru filled your mind, you felt a sudden wave of confidence and excitement as you thought of what you could get him that you knew he’d love. Perhaps this was what you needed, to stop focusing so much on a long-dead friendship by instead putting that energy into pursuing closer friendships with those you cared about now. This was going to be the Christmas to turn around your attitude, you were sure of it.

And in the self-improvement spiral you sent yourself down in that moment, for once you missed the small, almost imperceptible yet genuine smile that crossed Satoru’s face as he pulled a name of his own from the bag.

The next morning, as you woke up and stepped out of your hotel room for the morning after dragging yourself out of bed at the sound of your alarm, you found yourself nearly falling face-first into the floor as you tripped on an unfortunately-placed object directly outside your doorway. The fall caused you to let out a shriek as you braced for impact, and though you were luckily able to catch yourself before you crashed, the event still left a small, tired scowl on your face as you pulled yourself up and took a glance at the item that had nearly left you bruised and sore first thing in the morning.

The sight in front of you, however, quickly melted your annoyance into curiosity as you saw a soft, pale yellow bag obstructing the walkway outside of your hotel door. Your mind was racing for a few moments as it tried to catch up with the morning’s events, and when you were eventually able to recall the secret santa exchange that you had signed up for the night prior, you felt a small giddiness bubbling within you as you grabbed the small bag by it’s handles and returned with it in hand to your room. Perhaps you could forgive whoever had left the bag in prime tripping position, as the excitement of receiving your first gift of the week outweighed any prior frustrations you held.

You opened the bag expecting a small gift to start off the exchange, maybe flowers or a nice snack. Your secret santa had only had hours between the choosing of the names and this morning, after all, and you would perfectly understand choosing to go light on most of the gifts even without the rushed nature of this first morning. So when you stripped the bag of its tissue paper only to be faced with a brand-new copy of a new game you had mentioned in your list of potential gifts, you couldn’t fight back the widening of your eyes in surprise. A brand new game surely wasn’t cheap, and to get it at such short notice felt like nothing short of a miracle. (Or incredible effort on your Secret Santa’s part). Taped onto the game was a note, short and simple:

“You’ve seemed extra stressed the past few days, so why don’t you take the day off and relax? Kick your feet up and have fun playing your new game ;)

- Secret Santa”

The note gave little away of the one who had left the gift, yet their kindness and effort was clear in both presentation and product as you grinned to yourself. Fate truly did seem to be on your side this holiday season, as you had seemingly been blessed with the loveliest secret santa in all existence. While the gift was much more than you had expected, and you had barely even gotten a chance to wake up that morning, you were quick to shoot a text over to Utahime telling her to come over to your room to share your excitement with someone. Though you unfortunately couldn’t play the game yet as your secret santa had advised, since you hadn’t brought your console with you on the trip to Tokyo, you still wanted to enjoy the gift in some way as you silently sent your gratitude towards your mystery gift-giver. You’d have to thank them when they finally revealed themself on Christmas eve, but for now you’d wait for your best friend to arrive so you could brag about your exceptionally generous secret santa and the gift you couldn’t wait to try out once you returned to your cozy home in Kyoto at the end of the week.

On the second day, you thankfully did not wake up to a tripping hazard outside of your door, leading you to assume your secret santa would drop off your gift later in the day. Honestly you were thankful that it wasn’t left first thing in the morning like the day prior, as you had accidentally overslept after staying out a bit later than usual picking out a gift and writing a fun note for Haibara for day one of your secret santa exchange. 

You had offered to chaperone a sightseeing day around Tokyo for the students (one the Tokyo students would also be attending, though more on the basis of shopping than sightseeing) alongside Utahime and two Tokyo instructors, and after sleeping through your alarm, you were already short on time as you scrambled to get ready and meet your students on time. Having a gift to open would have only added to your hassle, and now you could look forward to receiving one at the end of the day instead as you rushed to the meeting spot, just barely making it in time.

Utahime and all of your students were already waiting, and you watched as your best friend’s face drew into a small smile as she saw you approaching. Your eyes quickly caught sight of Satoru and Suguru standing beside her, seemingly the volunteers to chaperone the Tokyo students for the day, but you were determined to stick to your new outlook of no longer fixating on Satoru, so you forced yourself to brush past his presence even as he mocked and teased your best friend beside you. The four of you set out with the students in tow, allowing Suguru to lead the way as a Tokyo native (and out of a lack of trust in Satoru’s navigational skills), and you did your best to stop your mind from drifting to thoughts of Satoru as you tried to keep your students engaged and having fun, while also taking some time to chat with Utahime and scan the area for potential gifts for Haibara.

You made many stops throughout the day as you passed through various shopping districts and interesting stores, and it brought a smile to your face to watch your students interact and have fun with one another as well as their sister school peers as they spent the day shopping and chatting altogether. The poor kids were faced with the monstrosities of the Jujutsu world on a daily basis at such a young age, and it warmed your heart to at least be able to give them the chance to simply have fun and act like teenagers every once in a while. For today they weren’t Jujutsu sorcerers in training, they were just kids hanging out with their friends, and the thought made you smile as you, Utahime and Suguru hung back and watched the kids do their shopping and sightseeing (as Gojo had turned his attention from Utahime to Megumi Fushiguro for the time being, much to the young boy’s chagrin.

The day was long and covered quite a bit of land, taking you all through the streets of Tokyo as you reminisced on your youth and saw places you hadn’t visited in years, since leaving Tokyo for Kyoto to become a Jujutsu instructor and get away from your (admittedly not that dramatic) past. Sure, the nostalgia of it all did bring memories of your childhood with Satoru to the front of your mind on occasion as you passed a shop that the two of you used to always visit with your allowance money, or a favorite restaurant you would visit together on special occasions.

 But you managed to keep your focus on the students and enjoying the night out rather than letting yourself drown in the memories, and you were proud to say you even managed to be friendly and courteous to Suguru despite your usual awkwardness around your former other half’s new best friend. You were so focused, in fact, that you failed to notice when Satoru’s watchful eyes fell on you and refused to leave as he saw you interacting with his best friend with ease, or the way his expression faltered into an unreadable look at the sight.

As the sun begins to set, and all the adults begin to discuss plans to turn in for the evening, you catch a brief whiff of a scent that sends you hurdling back into your adolescence full-force, your common sense momentarily leaving you as you step out of the ongoing conversation and quickly make your way to a place which was once your sanctuary, your home away from home in your younger years.

Your favorite bakery, a small, family-owned shop whose delectable treats you hadn’t tasted in years was still standing in the same spot it always had been, and the scent of the pastry that had been your favorite since childhood made its way to you as your eyes widened at the sight. You were so caught up in trying to keep yourself from drooling at the delicious scent that you failed to hear your colleagues approaching behind you, nor the way Satoru’s eyes were trained on you once again with the slightest hint of guilt reflecting in them.

“Mmmm, looks yummy.” Utahime praises as her eye lands on the pastry you had been staring down, the two men beside her nodding in agreement. You allowed yourself another moment to stare at the delicacy inside of the shop before turning to face your comrades, though you felt your stomach do a small flip as you finally registered the way Satoru’s gaze seemed stuck on you, and the unreadable look on his face. 

“Yeah…. Sorry guys, I just got a bit distracted. We should be heading back to the hotel.” You mumbled out your apology as you returned to your spot beside Utahime, trying to ignore the way thoughts of Satoru once again flooded your mind as you tried to make sense of his strange expression, or the unusual silence he was now emitting. 

But there was no way that bakery brought back the same feelings for him that it did for you, and you weren’t even sure if he remembered the time the two of you spent there so long ago at all. You were sure he had long-forgotten your love of that specific pastry as the years had passed, or the way he used to always steal a bite from you whenever you bought one for yourself. Those days had long passed, and you forced yourself to shake off his sudden change in attitude and assume it was a coincidence as the four of you saw all of your students to their sleeping quarters for the evening, before parting ways to get ready for bed yourselves. 

Though you were a bit sad to see the sight of an empty doorway as you made your way back to your hotel room alone that evening, you felt your heart rate pick up a bit a your mood turned to something more hopeful when you heard a quick knocking on your door as you finished up your skincare routine for the evening. Of course, your elusive secret santa was gone by the time you opened the door, but the scent that practically smacked you in the face as you reached for another pale yellow bag suddenly had your stomach twisting and turning once more as you felt your suspicions begin to raise.

And as you suspected, inside of the bag you were met with the same pastry you had just been admiring less than an hour prior, the sight making you a bit less happy than it usually would despite your gratitude for the gift as you began to realize that your secret santa had to be one of the other three people you had spent the day with. And despite your hopes that things weren’t as they seemed, the note taped to the side of the bag only caused your heart to sink further as it practically spelled it out for you, so early into the week of secret santa exchanges.

“These have always been your favorite, and now you have a whole batch all to yourself, so you don’t have to share. Though, I wouldn’t mind if you’d be kind enough to slip me a piece ;)

- Secret Santa”

You spend most of the third day - another free day, thankfully - relaxing and trying to distract yourself watching all of your favorite movies and TV shows, doing practically anything to try and keep your mind away from your discovery last night. You did end up eating the pastry that you had received the night prior (at first the thought made you shiver, as the treat felt as if it weighed a thousand pounds with the loaded memories packed within, but the temptation had eventually been too strong to resist as it’s sweet scent bombarded your senses) but you were making it a point to stay in your room for the day unless one of your students needed you, determined to avoid Satoru as you ignored your emotions rather than attempt to process them.

The note he had left the night prior seemed to indicate that the self-depricating idea that you had clung onto for so many years of him forgetting your friendship was in fact false, and the thought alone had your head swimming with conflict and served to bring up more heartbreak than the reality you had created for the state of your relationship with him over the past ten years. 

If he had forgotten about you, drifted off to other friends and bigger responsibilities until your bond faded from his mind, it would at least be a pain you were used to. A pain you had desensitized yourself to through the years of pining and pondering of a friendship long lost within the seas of time. But the thought that he may still remember it all, could still recall the afternoons spent together and the secrets shared, seemed to hurt much deeper. Because that meant he had chosen something else over those memories, that they seemingly hadn’t meant as much to him even with the images still fresh in his mind.

It was a painful stab to the gut you weren’t quite ready to acknowledge, so you were content to play the fool for now as you distracted and tried to deceive yourself.

When another swift knock sounded out from the end of your room, late in the evening once more (just after you had returned from your brief venture out of your room to deliver Haibara’s gift for the day), you were truthfully hesitant to open the door at all. You were currently clinging on to plausible deniability that the note from yesterday may have somehow been a coincidence, that Satoru may not be your secret santa after all. But given how willing he was to completely give himself away as early as day 2, you had a feeling that you wouldn’t be able to live in denial for much longer once you saw what your secret santa had left for the third day. 

Nonetheless, you eventually worked up the courage to rise to your feet and slowly make your way to the door, staring down the baby-blue bag standing in front of you as if it were a weapon of mass destruction. A few minutes of deep breaths and self affirmations later and you were slowly, carefully removing the tissue paper from the small bag, only to be faced with a sight that instantly caused your eyes to sting with fresh tears.

A mint green DSI, and a small collection of games. An artifact you thought you had lost long ago, likely forgotten amongst some move between houses.

You barely even noticed the tears falling down your cheeks or the way your heart seized in your chest as you reached for the note, hand over your mouth in both awe and devastation as you read the inscribed words.

“Sorry this one isn’t new, I wouldn’t mind spending thousands on you but I thought you’d prefer this. You left it behind, and I haven’t quite found the time to return it yet. Figured you’d enjoy ;)

- Secret Santa”

This was a confirmation of every thought that had been spinning within your head over the past 24 hours, and as you held one of your favorite childhood toys in your hands for the first time in over a decade, you felt more conflicted than ever on how to handle your relationship with Satoru, or what your feelings for the man were at all any more.

The following days went by in a similar rhythm, though the gifts thankfully became simpler and less nostalgic as time went on. (You weren’t sure if you could handle another late-night crying session as the result of any particularly thoughtful gifts).

Day four had left you with some typical teaching supplies, as Satoru had heard you complaining about the lack of traditional lesson plans within the Jujutsu education system and your desire to teach your students at least some of the things they’d learn in a typical Japanese high school environment over a faculty-wide dinner. 

Day five, he had gifted you with some skincare products he noticed were running low after showing up unexpectedly at your hotel room in the middle of the day, pleading with you to let him use your bathroom since he had forgotten his room key inside and Suguru was asleep. The two of you hadn’t spoken much, as he was quickly in and out of your room, but he breathed out a silent sigh of relief once he was securely outside your door as he thanked the universe that you hadn’t thought too deeply into his excuse. It would look pretty ridiculous of him to be insistent on the chance to see you for a moment if you had realized that he didn’t need to stay in a hotel in the city he lived in, after all.

Day six had been the most difficult for you to process since the emotional roller coaster of the third day, and it had been the catalyst for you to finally cave and explain to Utahime what you had discovered about your not-so-secret santa, and what he had done since your revelation. You had done your best to keep her out of it, as you knew she wasn’t particularly fond of Satoru on his best of days and had listened to many of your previous venting sessions about your forgotten friendship with Satoru prior to this exchange. But when you saw what awaited you in your bag on the second to last day of the exchange, and the note that accompanied the gift, you threw your efforts out the window as you finally sought advice from your best friend.

In the bag you were greeted with a complete collection of the Haikyuu manga and a small collection of high-quality lip balms (a collection you had been growing well before you lost touch with Satoru), along with a note much lengthier than the others.

“I don’t know if you’re still all that into this series, but I know how much you loved it when we were younger. Figured this would be better than that body pillow I always threatened to buy you, hopefully you’ll read through them and get to ‘experience the story all over again’ or whatever it is you nerds say.

The lip balms I remember you loving for some reason, but I’m hoping tomorrow I’ll give you a reason to use them. We’re supposed to reveal ourselves anyways, and I’ve got some things I’d like to say. So if you’re willing to listen to an idiot like me blab on about feelings and shit for a while, meet me at our favorite bakery tomorrow night at 7.

- Secret Santa”

You knew that you’d have to face him at some point, as you did eventually have to reveal yourself to your secret santa and exchange a final gift to one another. Yet you were unsure if you should go to this meeting or not, if you were ready to face Satoru’s feelings and demand the explanation you deserved for what had happened so long ago, especially in a place that held such sentimentality to each of you.

You had expected Utahime to talk you out of it, almost hoping she would as you went to here and finally explained to her what had been going on throughout this secret santa exchange. Truth be told, you were terrified at the thought of all your feelings for Satoru possibly being laid out in the open, and were hoping she would give you an excuse to bail.

Unfortunately, she did the exact opposite of what you had hoped, and encouraged you to meet with him in the hopes that you’d finally find some sort of resolution for the feelings you had been carrying in your soul for so long, and that they’d finally either be laid to rest or be given a chance to flourish into something much better for you. Curse her and her rationality, and the way she always had your best interests at heart.

It took nearly a full minute of standing outside the small bakery, your heartbeat ringing through your ears like timpanis ringing through your bones, for you to work up the courage to open the door and step inside, pulling off your winter attire as you glanced at the cozy Christmas eve decorations lining the walls. The bakery was quiet on such a late hour the day before a holiday, and it was easy to spot Satoru (early for once, a fact that made your heart flutter the slightest bit in your chest) at a cozy table in the corner, the same table the two of you frequented throughout your pre-teen years. He didn’t even try to hide the way his eyes lit up at the sight of you, overjoyed that you had actually shown up as he waved you over to your table. His greeting, however, was incredibly lacklustre compared to the week-long build up of tension and emotions between the two of you as an effortless grin spread across his lips.

“Hey.” Was the only word that fell from his lips as you sat down across from him in the booth, the same careless attitude that had always emanate from Satoru’s very being coming off of him now. But this time you refused to play along, refused to ignore the way he had tugged on your heart strings all week long and make casual, meaningless conversation the way you always did. 

“Don’t ‘hey’ me, Satoru. You know why I’m here.” You start, face fixed in a stern expression as you fought hard not to let your anxiety peek through onto your features. “Obviously I know you’re my secret santa, but I think we have bigger things to talk about here. Specifically, the way our friendship fell apart.”

Satoru wasn’t surprised in the slightest by the way you jumped straight into the heart of the conversation, he had seen the tension building on your face all week long as you received gift after gift from him. Hell, his own feelings had been much more difficult to contain than usual, with his desire to be close to you, to have you back in his life once more growing by the day. But Satoru was nothing if not unable to admit his emotions seriously, so his relaxed grin remained as he did his best not to let his heart get the best of it.

“Yeah, you’re probably right. I did say I had things I needed to tell you.” He ponders gently, taking a bite of a sugary cream puff laid on the plate in front of him before meeting your gaze with his aqua eyes. “Look, I was an asshole teen, and everything that happened was on me. None of it had anything to do with you.”

Now it’s your turn to be shocked, completely amazed that the Satoru Gojo who had never apologized once as a child was currently admitting complete fault. You were stunned into silence at his words, though your face suddenly showed a layer of openness to his explanation as he continued on.

“When we got to high school I got so wrapped up in making new friends and advancing my technique and all that shit. Honestly, I was a total jerk back then, I dunno if you’d have wanted to hang around me anyways.” He laughs at the remark, but you could tell that this was the real Satoru, briefly peeking through his walls that seemed to melt so easily whenever he was around you. “Plus I had always kinda liked you, but it never really seemed like you felt that way about me. So I used my new friends and my status as a way to not have to talk to you, I was just hoping that it would give me a chance to get over whatever weird crush I had because it would just be pathetic for you to find out about it. But then it went on for longer than I realized, and by the time I figured out how much we had drifted, my pride wouldn’t let me admit why I stopped hanging out with you in the first place. Dumb, I know, but that’s really all it was.”

Satoru seemed so casual throughout his entire explanation, as if he was simply recounting his work day rather than delving into the intricacies of his thoughts and feelings and the reasons why your friendship had fallen apart. And his reasons were stupid, a part of you loathed the way younger Satoru had been so stubborn in refusing to communicate his feelings that he split the two of you apart as a result. Yet another part of you felt so incredibly thankful that the split hadn’t been because of something you did, or because he had stopped caring. It was the most idiotic behavior you had ever heard of, yet you were quick to find it in your heart to forgive him when you heard the next words that fell from his lips.

“I’m sorry.” He mumbled, though it was clear enough for you to hear amongst the white noise of the bakery as he tried to hide the bashful look on his face at his words. It wasn’t often that Satoru Gojo apologized, and in fact it was a sight you had never seen from the man in all your time together, and it took everything in you not to interrupt him with words of forgiveness as he continued on. “I considered doing something lame, like pulling a “your gift is me” or some shit, but I got you a real gift instead. I’m just gonna say that I know for a fact that I loved you back then, and I’m pretty sure I do now. So take this gift, and I’m just the bonus, if you’re willing to take it.”

You were practically on autopilot as you took the final gift of the week straight from Satoru’s hands, no longer hidden beneath any bags or bows as your entire body felt as if it were on fire from within. You were completely unable to muster words at the moment as you took in everything you had just heard, trying to fit what he had said into the puzzle pieces of your own emotions as you glanced at the two tickets Satoru had given you, tickets to a concert for your favorite artist. 

“Hopefully you’ll let me go with you, but if you decide to kick my ass to the curb and never speak to me again, then you can at least bring a friend.” He told you as he carefully watched your reaction to your final gift, though Satoru was unable to fully hide the way panic spread throughout his entire body like a plague when he noticed tears streaming down your cheeks in waves. Before he could get another word in or even ask you what was going on, though, your eyes met his once more as your voice wavered with emotion.

“You are a complete idiot, Satoru. I spent years missing you and breaking my own heart thinking that you had just forgotten about me completely, that you didn’t remember out friendship at all. I thought my feelings would just be stuffed down and elft unsaid forever.” You chide him as your tears pour out, though the way your hand sets the tickets on the table before reaching out for his indicates that you have more yet to say. 

“You’re just lucky that those feelings hadn’t been stuffed down into nothing yet.” You continue as you sneak your hand over to interlink your fingers with his, relishing in the genuine surprise that took over Satoru’s face at the warm feeling. “And the fact that you actually apologized to me for the first time helped too.” You add on, squeezing his hand gently in yours in order to prompt him to look into your eyes.

“.....Does this mean you do want the bonus?” The man in front of you mutters out after a moment, clearly feeling overwhelmed with how emotionally charged the moment is as he tries to lighten the atmosphere with a joke. And it makes his heart sing in his chest when he hears your sweet laughter in response, a sound he had missed most in all the years apart as the both of you began leaning in from across the table.

“......Yes, I guess I do want the bonus. It’s Christmas eve, after all.” You respond with a smile, before taking charge of the moment as you press your lips into his. The kiss is short and sweet, and you know you’ll have to take the relationship slow as you re-learn each other’s personalities and quirks now that you’ve grown into adulthood. Its’ obvious that it won’t be an easy process, that you’ll both have to put in the work to make the relationship work and move past the mistakes of adolescence. But you also know that there will be plenty more kisses to come, because if your childhood friendship with Satoru and the torch you still carried for him left you with anything, it was the knowledge that, to you, Satoru Gojo was worth the work if you could wake up to that gorgeous, smiling face every morning.

A/N: It’s kind of crazy to believe that it’s already the end of the year, and that this will probably be the last thing I write and post this year. I’ll release a longer post being all sappy over the new year later, but for now I just want to say that I’m so happy I found the motivation and excitement to return to this blog this year and branch out into so many fandoms, I’ve had so much fun writing and posting here and I look forward to continuing in 2024! Thank you all for reading this and any of my other works you’ve read this year, I’ve really appreciated the support and I hope I can continue posting good writing in the future :> 

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[retnym]

WORLD TOUR- .01

"Gosh, you just couldn't keep our names out of your mouth."

Flashing lights, loud talking, humid air, crowds full of paparazzi; all screaming to get you to look their way. My breath hitched as I stood up straighter, feeling the fabric of my dress finally move down as it had been tight against my torso. My manager thought it’d be a good idea to go with a tight red dress for the premiere of my new movie. Something I highly wanted to decline but I didn’t know until the last minute. 

“[Name]! This way!” A dark-haired lady calls me, her microphone in hand. This was someone that my friend, Emma warned me of. Heading over to her, she gives a quick side hug and has us stand so the camera sees both of us. “How are you, you look amazing!” 

How am I? Well to be serious, I am horrible. This dress is squeezing me in what feels like all the wrong places. The flashing lights, it feels like I’m going to go blind with only seeing dots for the rest of my days. The screaming, having to look everywhere all at once. And last but definitely not it, missing home for this movie. Missing my best friends in Germany for America. 

“I’m wonderful, seeing so many familiar faces, it’s great." Lying straight through my teeth here. "How are you?”  Obviously putting it back to her I start to space out, the loudness of it all being the cause of it.

I wonder what Bill, Gustav, and Georg are doing. Hopefully thinking about me. 

Glancing around the lights are still bright. I wonder if their fingers ever hurt from clicking that button repeatedly. 

“[Name]?” My eyes flicker to her face. 

“Sorry, everything is so overwhelming. The shouting.” I explain, bringing back a smile onto my face. A fake one, of course. “Oh, I totally get it.” She laughs an obnoxious laugh I’m sure everyone hears and finds just as annoying as I do right at this very moment.

“So, how does it feel being away from Germany?” This question makes me raise my eyebrow for the splitest second. It was like she read my mind. “Well, it’s pretty normal to be away just due to all my productions being away or my tours being in the United States. Only thing I will say is I truly miss my best friends.” I tell in a sad tone, at the end though I bite my buttom lip. Picking the dead skin off of it as a nervous habit that most of my fans have even caught on to. 

She does another phoney laugh for the viewers. Gosh, if Gustav was here he’d be subtly hitting my arm or squeezing it as he tried not to laugh. 

“And your best friends, aren’t they in a famous German band. What are they called again?” She questions the name of my best friend's band? If you’re going to interview me that’s the one thing you should know! It’s all I talk about, Jesus Christ, this lady lives under a rock. “Tokio Hotel,” I say in almost an irritated tone but I caught myself in time to stop it and not make her embarrassed or have this end up on MTV. 

“Right, I knew that.” And again with the laugh. Its excruciating.

“How do you know them?”

How do I know them!? It’s all over Myspace! Look on Twitter! Look on Youtube! We have repeatedly told people, over and over and over! 

“We’re childhood best friends! Mine and the Kaulitz twin's parents also grew up together. Bill is my absolute best friend, he literally knows everything.” I laugh, talking about them gives me so much happiness, a nostalgic feeling even though we’re still around each other.

“What about the other twin, Tom?” My face faulters a tiny bit.

“Oh, he’s a friend as well. Growing up together how couldn’t we be?” I save myself from a lecture from my manager. She never understood our hatred for each other and because of that both of our managers told us to keep it off screen. 

The rest of the interviews were just questions about the movie or about my dress. It was like almost every interview. Most didn’t ask about Tokio Hotel because if they did I’d probably sit there for hours.

By the end of the night, after watching the movie I had gotten into my limo by myself. 

I didn’t want to stay with everyone else or go to after parties. I was getting ready to go back to the hotel, change into some comfortable clothes to go back to an airport.

Heading back to Germany, it will sadly take almost 11 hours on a plane. I also get to go back to my kitty, Springroll or Frühlingsrolle. I couldn’t bring her this time since it was just a week's experience so I left her to the twins. Hopefully, Bill didn’t leave her with Tom for too long she might’ve been starved or neglected for too many hours.

Mentally rolling my eyes, we pulled up to the hotel. I lazily got out of the vehicle to another swarm of camera flashes and screams asking me about the night. This paparazzi you can not say a word to. They will twist everything you say. They’re nasty monsters. 

I just want to go back home. 

“I missed you guys so much!” I laughed, hugging my best friends as they were gathered outside the Kaulitz’s house. “Dude we missed you too.” Georg pulls back, all of us following suit. Bill was still grabbing onto my arm with a wide grin. “We saw every single interview. Gosh you just can’t keep our names out of your mouth?” He teases, the other two guys laugh. 

“Did you see-”

“Oh we saw, we saw the one lady.” Gustav cuts me off, and my eyes gleamed before bursting into a fit of laughter. “You guys have no idea how awful that was!” I shouted tugging on Bill as he agreed. We all talked about what I missed or what they should’ve seen while I was in America. It was all pretty wild.

My mother being from Detroit Michigan we go sometimes every now and then. The twins would join sometimes but they’ve never seen every state like I have. 

“We have pictures of Tom with Frühlingsrolle while he was sleeping. He will never admit it but they bonded quite well when you were gone?” Georg explains, pulling out his phone to show me the pretty blurry pictures of the other twin with my all-black kitty laying on top of his chest while he slept. His hat was in his hand as his dreads actually laid down.

I smirk, my eyebrows raised in amusement just as the angel of a man spoke, one of the devil's children came out with my cat in her crate. 

“Here’s your brat of an animal.” He grumbles, dramatically handing it to me causing all of us to snicker. “What?” He scrunches his nose in confusion. “My brat of an animal?” I repeat.

Bill was practically cackling at this point. 

“Yeah? That’s what I said.” He was not getting to what we were saying so Georg takes out his phone again and shows the picture. The boy's face slightly dropped as we all laughed.

“That doesn’t mean anything.” He crosses his arms.

“It doesn’t?” I frown in a sarcastic way making him punch my shoulder. “Aye, unnecessary.” I shove him back.

“It’s okay to be a pussy lover, Tom.” Gustav lays a hand on his shoulder, I shake my head and Tom just plays with his piercing to cover the noticeable smirk he has to attempt to hide his laughter. 

“Oh, I’m a pussy lover. Just not [Name]’s.” He flips me off, I nod. “You could never get it even if you wanted to.” I roll my eyes. 

“Oh really?” He comes closer and I straighten my posture. “Yup.” I glare at him. 

“Never say never,” He shoves me backward a little bit but Bill was behind me to make sure I didn’t stumble further than I could’ve. Before I could say anything else, Tom was making his way back inside. 

After he left it was a tad bit awkward. Usually how it goes. Either we go into full blown fights or tiny weird arrangements like that. We couldn’t stand each other if it saved our life. Surprisingly that was longest we’ve been in area together without cameras or outside people and didn’t fight until the last second but still. 

A World record for us.

Later than I wanted so I apologize for that. I will try to have the second chapter out tomorrow. I hope everyone enjoyed this, it's fun to get back into writing like I used to:) Also the chapters will be longer:) this is just the beginning.

[thediaryofaurora]

General HCs

𖧐Kate the Chaser (Kate Milens)𖧞

- 5’8. She’s not very tall, but she’s pretty lanky.

- Mixed! Her dad is Eastern Indian, her mom is Salvadoran and White.

- Actually had a great childhood. Both of her parents were amazing. She didn’t do anything bad, but Slender saw potential in her and her house was just too close to the mansion for comfort.

- To maximize her performance, her memory was wiped so it didn’t hurt as bad.

- Fairly reserved. Does talk to Nina, sometimes Toby or Cody. She mainly goes with whatever. If she’s on a mission with people she might small talk a little, but social interaction isn’t really something she craves.

- Pretty thick hair! It’s long and untamed, kinda frizzy. She doesn’t take care of it whatsoever, uses men’s three in one shampoos or bars of soap. Even though her hairs wild, it would be pin straight if she tried to tame it.

- Her room is kinda boring. She doesn’t really feel any need for decorations, but her bed is by far the comfiest out of anyone’s.

- Cat person. 1000%. Always pspspsping at strays while she’s on missions.

- Doesn’t think about relationships very much. There’s no one in the mansion she likes, so there’s no point. Definitely a lesbian, though.

- Her hands are always FREEZING, even in summer.

- Prefers to work alone, but she’s usually paired with Hoodie. Since they’re both quiet and know to do their thing and leave, they work pretty well together.

- Out of all the proxies, Hoodie’s her favorite since he’s efficient and easy to plan with.

- Doesn’t mind Masky, his strategies just don’t click with hers. Same for Toby.

- EXTREMELY STEALTHY!! Also definitely a klepto.

- Her favorite colors grey. (Boring 💔.)

- For someone so lame normal, she actually has a decent amount of hobbies. She carries a little notebook to write poetry/ sketch in, reads a lot of classical literature, and takes polaroid pictures around the scenic parts of the forest! She keeps all her pictures in a little box under her bed.

- Absolutely no one knows that she does anything her free time, they just assume she sits in her bare, bare room and does nothing.

- Loves Nina’s guinea pigs, but she’s so scared to hold them. She’s actually really gentle, just very cautious because she doesn’t want to hurt them.

- Farsighted! She needs glasses and has a VERY strong prescription. Usually she wears contacts on missions and in front of any other residents, but in private she wears her big bulky glasses.

- LOVES unsweetened tea. Any opportunity she has to get some she absolutely does.

- Winter girl!!! Never mentions it, but snow is her favorite thing ever. She finds it so calming the way it crunches and makes the wind all cool. Since she doesn’t remember any of her past she can’t place the feeling, but snow makes her feel very nostalgic. Also, she drinks cold hot chocolate, kind of weird.

- She’s my favorite, I love her.

𖧞𖧐𖧞𖧐𖧞𖧐𖧞𖧐𖧞𖧐𖧞𖧐𖧞𖧐𖧞𖧐𖧞𖧐𖧞𖧐𖧞